
Class. 
Book_ 



JA 



Goijyriglrt}^°_ 



Qo, r 



COPyRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



EUROPE 



>3^% 



IN STORM AND CALM 



TWENTY YEARS' EXPERIENCES AND REMINISCENCES 
OF AN AMERICAN JOURNALIST 



SKETCHES AND RECORDS OF NOTED EVENTS, CELEBRATED PERSONS AND 

PLACES, NATIONAL AND INTERNATIONAL AFFAIRS IN FRANCE, SPAIN, 

GERMANY, GREAT BRITAIN, HOLLAND, BELGIUM, AUSTRIA, 

HUNGARY, ROUMANIA, TURKEY-IN-EUROPE, 

SWITZERLAND, AND ITALY 



EDWARD KING 



AUTHOR OF "THE GREAT SOUTH, " FRENCH POLITICAL LEADERS, "ECHOES FROM THE ORIENT,' 

ETC., ETC. 

■U 



Over One IliinJicJ Ulifsirations from Designs made ex/ress/y for this Work 
hv Felix Regamey, Paris 



V^^^ 



Published by 
C. A. NICHOLS & COMPANY 

SPRINGFIELD, MASS. 
18S5 



Copyright, 1885. 
Bt C. a. NICHOLS & CO. 



AU riglitu reserved. 



r,^6 



^ 



C, 



INTRODUCTION 



IF tlie courteous reader will take the trouble to j^ass in review his memo- 
ries of 1867 he will probalily discover that it was at that period that 
the current of travel from America to Europe assumed large proportions, 
and tliat a consequent increase of interest in European afl'airs was felt ])y the 
whole American public. Up to the completion of the Atlantic cable tiiat 
public had but spasmodic fits of curiosity as to events beyond the seas, and 
it had been so passionately absorbed in the strengthening and asserting of its 
own national life in the midst of the throes of the great civil war, that it 
thought of Europe only as a stately pleasui-e-ground, filled with ancient 
castles, rivers fringed with picturesque ruins, and sovereigns wiio disposed, 
pretty much at their will, of the lives of soldiers who occasionally fought 
each other amid much pomp and pageantry. The amateur student, the nuin 
of letters, the painter, and the millionaire, who had lived for a few }'ears in 
Madrid, or Paris, or London, seemed to acquire in the eyes of their fellow- 
townsmen, wiien they I'eturned, an added romantic cluirm, from tl;e fact 
that they had ))een to Europe. Conscientious tourists have, perhaps, l)een 
less numerous and less painstaking in their observation in the past few years 
than in the days before I80O or 1848, when those who travelled at all 
travelled by packet and by stage-coach, and enlivened the accounts of their 
experiences with many references to their perils on flood and Held, and their 
vicissitudes by nights in country inns. But after the calile was laid, and 
the panorama of Europe's events passed under the daily notice of the most 
omnivorous readers in the wor^, there was an annual rush to Europe, and 
he or she who had not been across seas felt a certain lack in education which 
it M'as a trifle humiliating to admit. 

It seemed, also, to those who had been to Europe to study the movements 
of its varied populations, or to witness the strange march of its variegated 
history, as if the Old World had entered upon a new process of evolution ; 



VI INTRODUCTION. 

wherens it was merely jo2:<j:inj>' aloiia- as before : onl}- iiom- the events which 
hadheeii hut va<;uel_y heard of, or tohl of hnig after they had transpired, were 
at once recited for tlie l)enetit of Americans witli a niimitencss and attention 
to detail whicli were not accorded them even in the eonntries where they took 
place. Tiie cahle made tlie appetite for 01d-"\Vorld news so keen that the 
American jnihiic presently found itself better infoinned as to what was occnr- 
riny in Paris — e\eu as to the tittle-tattle of social circles — than al)Out the 
same class of affairs or y-ossip in Xew Yorl^ (u- Piiiladelj)hia. Whole colonies 
of newly enriched Americans settled in Londmi, in Paris, in Vienna, and iu 
all the cities which, by their historic prestige fir by their local charm, 
exercised powerful attraction upon tiiose wiio jiad large means at their 
connnand. The American, witli his open jiurse and genial manners, took 
the place in the respect of the foreign landlord and shopkeeper which was 
so long held l)y the English nobleman, -wilii his post-chaise and his passion 
for St. Juiien. Euro})e was pleased with its new visitors, flattered at their 
undisguised delight, and, while it now and then laughed at their easy atti- 
tude and their extreme frankness, it welcomed them as one always wel- 
comes those who bring jiroHt in their train. 

At this same jieriod, when the American had awaken(ul or renewed his 
interest in the |)arent lands from which his composite nationality had sprung, 
the Old World was entering upon a season of terrilde storm, interspersed, it 
is true, with fitful calm, but storm (juickly recurrent, violent, and sweeping 
in its results. Europe had apparently settled down, after the wars of 1S.")4— 
5."). and of l.S.')ll, to unintcrrui)ted enjoyment of the rest which the "party 
of order," in all the Continental countries, had endeavored to inaugurate 
after 1848. 

The era of conferences and expositions seemed almost to indicate 
the relinquishment of the old policy of [)lunder, partition, and political 
gambling. Secular enemies protested their future eternity of friendship ; 
emjiires talked of founding themselves upon peace; small nations smiled 
in their fuicied security; and the "balance of power" was still believed 
in even liy so clever a man as M. Thiers. 

But suddenly the face of the European world was changed. The gr^at 
movement of unification — the su])lime work of this last half of the nine- 
teenth century — was begun in earnest. Out of the sands of Brandenburg 
stepped the unifiers of Germany ; Austria lost her foothold in Italy, her 



c 



INTRODUCTION. Vll 

supreme influence in the Germanic States ; Sadowa was fought ; the l)alance 
of power was ahnost a forgotten iUusion ; the policy of compensation so long 
talked of was scattered to the winds ; the military strength of France was 
broken; the English in their insular fortress treml)led lest their own pecu- 
liar position might he changed ; the German Emperor was crowned in 
Versailles ; the kingdom of Italy took l)ack its rightful heritage of Rome ; the 
temporal power of the Pope was broken ; the Republic and its attendant 
reforms were declared in France and Spain ; and the Powers of the North 
appeared no longer shadowy, but gigantic and imposing real forms, 
asserting with emphasis and might their future supremac3^ England, 
with her vast domain scattered through the seas, seemed happily free 
from the entanglements of })olitics upon the Continent, and found consola- 
tion in the development of her so-called Imperial policy, waiting an early 
opportunity of asserting her ecjuality with these new masters of the 
European situation. The great storm of the war of 1^70-71, in wliich 
the French empire and the last vestiges of monai'chy in France disappeared ; 
the triumphs and the exactions of the Germans ; the swift uprising to im- 
portance of the Italians, — were things which upset all European calculations. 
The forward movement for the division into large States — movement so 
long checked by consummate statesmen, — ^ had ])egun in earnest, and was 
to be carried on with l:>ut trifling interruption henceforward. Then came 
the enormous cataclysm of the Connnune, — the final and terrible eflbrt of 
Socialism on the soil of France ; after which the gaunt spectre took up her 
northward march, soon to terrify the Germans, flushed with their victories, 
and the Russians busy with their ambitious plans for conquest in Euroi)e 
and Asia. After this there was a lull, soon succeeded hy another storm, — 
the great convulsion out of which were born new kingdoms, new nations 
in South-Eastern Europe ; and then it was that England, seeing her oppor- 
tunity, — perhaps using it with hesitation and too feebly, yet seeing and 
seizing it, — maintained the place which she might have lost. The ashes 
of national feeling in the scattered States in the South-East, which had 
so long l)een tributary to the Turk, were fanned into flames. The work 
of revolt was quick and hardy. The sympathy of England was keen, far- 
reaching, strong. There was a race between Russia and Great Britain for 
mastery and prestige in the Balkan peninsula. The revolution in the 
Herzegovina and in Bosnia, the successful war in Servia, the exposure of 



V i i i IXTR D UCTION. 

the outraires in PmliriU'w. were followed liv tiie (laiek descent of a i)owci-ful 
arm}' from the North. The oreat Eusso-Tiirkish war of LSTT was ))egiin; 
and tlien it was seen that the Eastern Question, whieh had been so long 
derided as an antique fossil, to he looked at, taken to pieces now and 
again, and relegated to the comfortal)le ol)seurity where it was tliought to 
belong, was thenceforth a vital, all-important factor in European politics. 
The hand of England was raised to prevent the complete triumpii of the 
conquering liussians ; Constantinople was saved from the invader; hut both 
those who wisiied to invade it and tiiose who desired to protect it recognized 
that its fate nuist soon be sealed. Bulgaria, so long prostrate, rose to a 
principality ; lioumania and Servia became kingdoms ; Roumelia, almost a 
— Russian i)rovinc(\ Greece sprang to arms, and took Thessaly from the Turks. 
The Emperors of the North already hinted at an alliance with the mysterious 
empire, whose name means the Empire of the East, "Anslria Ltfdix,'' — 
one day, periiai)s, to be " Fortunate Austria ; " and the Latin States, alarmed, 
disgustc<l, and amazed, felt constrained to spend their energy u})on internal 
reforms and imi)rovements. Beaconstield had shown a bold front at the 
Berlin Congress, but he passed away, and the milder demeanor of (iladstonc 
left liut little fear in the minds of the rulers of the North that their prestige 
would be wrested from them by any of tliosc alliances once so easily made 
and so easily broken. 

The changes thus achieved in a few short years : the unification of two 
great sets of States in Italy and Germany ; reduction to the second plan, as 
the theatrical architects say, of France and Austria ; the placing in doubt of 
the exact status of England in relation to general European affairs; the 
menace conveyed to the small Euroiu'aii States like Belgium, Holland, 
Switzerland, and others, which had long fancied themselves secure ; the up- 
rising of new States, and the release from barbarous despotism of all South- 
Eastern P^urojje, soon to be seamed Avith through lines of rail, and liy the 
opening up of its vast resources to exercise nev.- influence on European com- 
merce ; the scM'ure and jjatient progress of (ireat Britain towards those re- 
forms wiiic'h to-day even the highest in rank of her privileged classes admit 
as necessary and just, — these, with their attendant weight of romantic, 
picturesque, and pathetic occurrences, liave filled fidl with the wonderful 
and the thrilling a period of half a generation, some episodes from which the 
author has emlxulicd in his humble liook. For. without special assumption 



INTRODUCTION. IX 

of humility, it would ill become him to assume any other motive, in present- 
ing the following pages, thiui that of reviewing, here amjjly, there cursorily, — 
now with the confidence born of personal knowledge, now with the hesita- 
tion which accompanies hearsay, — this splendid succession of events, large 
and little, from 1867 to the present time. 

So he, without further parley, invites the reader to witness with him the 
downfall of the Second French Empire; the pageants of the great Exposi- 
tion ; to look in at a sovereign's palace or an Empress's boudoir ; assist at a 
diplomatic intrigue or the production of a famous opera-boulfc ; to be a guest 
at a royal wedding or a bull-fight; get under fire at a barricade ; "do" a 
revolution ; follow the track of contending armies and l)e incarcerated as a 
spy; see the declaration of a Ecpublic and the execution of a noted criminal; 
be besieged and l)esieger ; help at the coronation of an Emperor and at the 
flight of an Empress ; go through from Ijeginning to end the greatest and 
most sanguinary insurrection of modern times ; peep in f)n busy England, — 
on its sports, its industries, its politics ; see a Passion Play ; be mobl)ed at an 
Irish National Land League meeting ; go down across the fields and through 
the defiles of Bulgaria to the Balkans ; talk of the Sultan and the Emperor 
of Austria ; see Bismarck at home and abroad, on horseback and in his 
study ; eat roasted mutton in an insurgent camp with knives which have but 
lately served to kill Turks ; and, finally, to take a hasty glance at the great 
colonial game on which all European Powers have entered in the last few 
years. 

If the reader finds here and there too nuich of storm, let him turn to the 
pages in which is reflected some little of that serenity and repose for which 
European society is so much to l)e envied. If he will have it that the verdict 
on certain men who stood high, and dazzled while they stood, is too severe, 
let him reflect that the author but expresses the opinion which has come to 
be that of the majority in Europe ; for there is no doubt that, in the 
future, European majorities will be democratic, non-Imperial, progressive ; 
and it cannot be denied that, as in Vienna a new and beautiful capital has 
been built like a ring round an ancient, ])lack, and grimy town, so, spring- 
ing up all round European tradition and formula are the light and bright 
edifices of modern institutions. If Europe fights so much, she does not fight 
in vain. Each period of storm and thunder makes the sky clearer, the 
spectacle on the horizon moi-e impressive, more beautiful. 



PREFATORY NOTE. 



IN this volume the autlmr lias endeavored to embody the results of a 
lengthy term of sjjecial cDrn^spondeiKX' in Europe, during whit-h lime 
he has contributed letters and articles upon the political and general sit- 
uation. Dui'ing a large part of the epoch covered Ijy the narrative in 
this volume, the author enjoyed exceptional o])[)ortunitics for observing 
the conduct of affairs in the various Euroi^ean countries of which he has 
ventured to treat, and has endeavored impartially and faithfully to de- 
scribe events which are among the most important of tlie centur}-. 

In the task of this portrayal lie has been aided by the talent and 
skill of j\I. Felix Regamey, a distinguished Tarisian illustrator, ^^•ho lias 
contributed more than one hundred original sketches to the woik ; and 
to. the pencil of Mr. J. Welk Chamjiney, well known in the artistic 
world. 

It would lie impossible in the limits of a single volume to describe, 
even in the simplest fashion, all tlie great events which have taken place 
in Eur(_ipe from 1867 tf) tlie present time. The author has contented 
himself with embodying in his narrative those with whicli he was most 
familiar; and lie trusts that the public will aci^nit him of an}' attempt 
to be either prol'onnd or sensational. He has tried to tell a ^inlple story 
which may afford pleasure and proht to the general reader. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 



The Volcanic Shimmer. — Paris in IsfiT. — Tlio Second Empire at the Ileiglit of its Glory. 

— The Crowning oftlie Edifice. — The Festival of Peace. — The Prophecy of Evil. — 
Napoleon Receives Distinsruished Guests. — Attempted Assassination of Alexander 

II. — The Sultan in Paris. — The Luxembourg Panic. — • Tlie Hidden Forces at Work, 21 

CHAPTER II. 

The Imperial Court at Compiegne. — An Historic City. — Lu.xury and Splendor. — Napoleon 
III.'s Courtship. — -The Countess of Montijo. — What an Imperial Hunting-Party Cost. 

— Aping the First Empire. — The Imperial Family. — Parvenus and Princes. — The 
Programme of the Season at Compiegne. — How the Guests were Received. — The Im- 
perial Theatre. — What the People Paid for. — Prince Napoleon. — Princess Clothilde, 31 

CHAPTER III. 

What was the Second Empire? — -How was it Created? — The Perjury of the Prince Presi- 
dent. — The Plebiscite. — The Massacres of December. — General Changarnier, and 
his Fidelity to his Country. — The Protest of the Deputies. — Struggle of the Citizens. 

— The Reign of Terror. —The Imperial Eagle. — -.V Period of Absolute Repression . 40 

CHAPIIIR IV. 

The Imperial Reforms Come Too Late. — Uprising of the Inter natinnalc. — The Com- 

nuine Foreshadowed ............. 49 

CHAPTER V. 

Events in Spain. — The Outcropping of Revolution. — R6ie of the Tniernaiionale. — Brief 
Review of Spanish Politics. — Dona Isabel. — Prim and Serrano. — A Journey 
through the North of Spain. — Biarritz and San Sebastian. — A Wonderful Rail- 
way. — The Approach to the Escurial. — An Imprcs.sive Edifice. — Looking at a Dead 
Monarch ............... 55 

CHAPTER \l. 

In Revolution Time. — Saragossa. — A Quaint Old Spanish City. — The Protest against the 
Reestablishment of Monarchy. — A Vigorous Fight. — Tlie Church of the Virgin 
Del Pilar. — On the Way to Valencia. — Down to the Mediterranean. — .\lieante. — The 
Grao. — Getting into Valenci.a before the Bomliardment. ■ — An Adventurous Prome- 
nade. — Crossing the Streets under Fire. — A Barricaded Hotel. — Street Fighting in 
Earnest. — Republicans and Regulars 64 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER Vir. 

The Nine Days' Fight in Valoncia. — Alanienos and the Bombardment. — The Insurgents 
and their Tactics. — Departure of the Consuls. — Picturesque and Romantic Episode. 
— An Interrupted Breakfast. — Meeting of tlic Brothers. ^The End of the Struggle. — 
Scenes in the Market-place. — In the Cathedral after the Battle. — Castelar and his 
Endeavors for Liberty. — Spanish Politics since 181)9. — Spanish Characteristics. — The 
Religious Passion Plays. — The Sublime and tlie Ridiculous in Religion 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Ten Years After. — The Kingship Reestablislied in Spain. — Going to a Royal Wedding. — 
The French Gate of the Sea. — Marseilles. — Reminiscences of the Pestilence. — 
Napoleon III. and Marseilles. — Barcelona. — The Catalonian People. — From Bar- 
celona to Valencia. — A Retrospect. — A Spanish Bishop. — Tortosa. — In the 
Beautiful South. — In tlie Market-place of Valencia. — Out of the World into 
Church 81 



CHAPTER IX. 

Madrid and its Gloom. — The Royal Wedding in 1870. — Queen Christina and King 
Alfonso. — The Puerta del Sol. — The Church of the Atocha. — Memories of Doiia 
Is.abel. — Uoyal Rejoicings. — An Interview with Castelar. — Gambetta and Castelar 
Compared ............... 'Jl 



CHAPTER X. 

The Bull-Fight in Madrid before the King and Queen. — Eight Bulls Slaughtered. — A 
Strange Sport. — Excitement of the Populace. — The Matador. — Duels between 
Men and Beasts 101 



CHAPTER XI. 

The Famous Museum in Madrid. — The Palace of the Cortes. — Noted Tapestries. — A 
Visit to Toledo. — The Spanish Cloak and its Character. — A Fonda. — Beggars. — 
The Grotto of Hercules. — The Alcazar. — In the Ancient Church .... Ill 



CHAPTER XII. 

Dead Celebrities. — DonAlvaro de Luna and his Famous Chapel in Toledo. — The Ancient 

Gates. The Cloister of San Juan de Los Reyes. — Cordova. — The Mezquita. — A 

Relic of the Moors. — The Plain of Seville. — The Giralda. — The Cathedral. — Tlie 
Gardens of the Alcazar. —The Duke of Montpcnsier 121 



CHAPTER XIII. 

The French Empire in 1809. — Subterranean Throes. — M.anifestations. — The Assassina- 
tion of Victor Noir. — Pierre Bonaparte. — The RiUe ui Rochefort. — Two Hundred 
and Fifty Thousand Workmen singing the Marseillaise. — The Imperial Press Law, 132 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

The Emperor and hk Speeches from tlie Throne. — Opening Day of tlie Corps Legis- 
latif. — Tlie Opposition. — Sketches of the Leading Memljers. — M. Thiers and his 
Attitude towanls the Second Empire. — The Splendor of his Irony. — His Eloquence 
Characterized. — Berryer, Lanjuinais, Jules Simon, and Jules Ferry. — llocliefort 
and his Yellow Gloves 1-10 



CHAPTER XV. 

The Epoch of Unification. — Danger to France from the National Growth in Italy and Ger- 
many. — Napoleon III. and his Policy of Greed. — How He was Duped by the 
Northern Powers. — The King of Prussia at Compiegne. — The Coronation March. — ■ 
Bismarck in Paris. — The Lu.xembourg .\ffair. — Benedetti and Bismarck. — The 
Downfall of the Policy of Compensation • .148 



CHAPTER XVI. 

Prevost-Paradol and his Fatal Error. — A Journalist who Yielded to the Seductions of the 
Empire. — The Work which he had Done against Imperialism. — Danger of Riots in 
1870. — The Execution of Troppmann. — An E.xperience of the Secret Police. — Gus- 
tave Flourens. — The Arrest of Rochefort. — Flourens and his Insurrection . . 156 



CHAPTER XVII. 

The Intrigue of Marshal Prim and Bismarck. — The Events which Led to the Declaration 
of War. — The Protest of M. Thiers. — Personal Reminiscences of the Excitement in 
Paris. — Anecdotes of the Unreadiness of the Second Empire. — General Ducrot and 
his Troubles in Strasbourg. — The Corruption and Incapacity of the French Quarter- 
master's Department. — No Rations. — No .Vmmunition 165 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

Departure of the Emperor for the War. — Volcanic Throes Renewed. — Movements of tlie 
Internationale. — The German Workingmen's Address. — The Imperial Court at Blois 

— Foreshadowing of the Commune. — M. Rothan's Revelations. — Bismarck and his 
Views of the War. — Alarm of the German People. — Fears of a French Invasion. 

— Eniile Ollivier's Account of the Manner in which Hostilities were Decided upon. — 
M. Rothan and the Duke de Gramont. — The French Minister of War is Surprised.— 
Marshal Le Boeuf's Deceptions 174- 



CHAPTER XIX. 

The Race for the Rhine. — Von Moltke's Mysterious Journeys before the War. — C.apt.ain 
Samuel's Telegram. — The German .'idvance. — Scenes along the Historic Stream. — 
At Coblentz. — .\t Mayence. — The Road to AViesbadcn. — The Crown Prince at 
Speyer. — In tlie Pfalz. — The Bavarian Troops. — Their .Appearance. — The Fright 
of the Inhabitants 182 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTPm XX. 



The Spectacle in tlie Palatinate. — X Visit to Lamlan. — The Saxon Troops on the M.arch. 
— .V Niiclit Drive. — Echoes from Weissenhurj:;. — Tlirough the Glades to Kaiserslan- 
tern. — The Xarrative of Strange .Vdventnres which there hefell lis. — A Military 
Prison. — Challenging a Denunciator. — Arrested a Second Time ... . . VM\ 



CHAPTER XXI. 

Germersheini. — The lihine Heel. — Across the Frontier. — ■ AVeissenlmrg. — ( In to Woerth. 
— The Disaster to the French. — The German Descent of the Hill under Fire. — 
Charge of General Bonnemain's Cuirassiers. — The Valley of Hell. — MacMahon's 
D^'feat. — 'I'he Hftrrors of the Tietreat. — Frossard's Xegligence. — Bazaine's .lealousv, UHi 



CHAPTER XXn. 

The Great Battles in front of and around Met/. — Friederich Karl. — The Saarhruck 
Affair. — Folly and Incompetence. — The lirandenburg Cavalry. — The Fielil of 
Rezonville. — Gravelotte. — Saint Privat. — Mars La Tour ..... 20;! 



CHAPTER XXni. 

French and German Rumors. — The Jaumont Quarries. — Truth about this Incident. — 
The Wounded .at Frankfort. — Serving in an Extempore Sanitary Corjis. — Paris in 
Confusion. — The Spy Scare. — Dangerous to Speak the Truth. — .\ Ni'W Ministry. — 
Comte De Palikao. — Jules F'avre's Campaign against the Falling Empire. —The 
Excited Cro\v(l>. — The Empire Ends, as it began, in blood ..... 214 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

The Declaration of the Kcpublic. — Exciting Scenes on tlie Place de la Concorde and tiie 
Boulevards. — Invasion of the Corps Legislatif. — (Jamlietta Pronounces the Down- 
fall of tile Imperial Family. — Tlie Procession to the Hotel de Ville. — Tlie Fliglit of 
the Empress ............... 2i'i3 



CHAPTER XX^•. 

Sedan. — Tlie March to the Ardennes. — The Headstrong Palikao. — Tlie Crown Prince 
of Saxony's .Vrniy. — General De Failly at Beaumont. — The Ketreat to Sedan. — 
General De Wimptfen comes upon the Scene. — The Prussians Open Fire in front of 
Sedan. — Disaster to MacMahon. — Slaughtered liy Invisible Enemies. — The Battle 
at Bazeilles. — De Wimpffen's Forlorn Hope ........ 24) 



CHAPTER XX\T. 

The Quarrel between Ducrot and De AVimplfen. — The Interview with the Conquerors. — 
The Question of Alsatia Raised. — Divergence of C>pinion between Bismarck and Von 
Moltke. — The French Council of War. — Napoleon's Departure from .Sedan. — Na- 
poleon as a Prisoner. — Bismarck's Interview with Him. — Over the Battle-tield. — 
Siiigiihir Ajjpearance of the Dead. — King William on the Field. — His Meeting with 
Nai)oleon. — The M's in the Bonaparte History 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER XXVII. 

A Solemn Situation. — Return of tlie Exiles. — Tlie Spoils at the Tuileries. — Advance of 
the Germans. — The Military Strength of the French Capital. — The Sixteenth Siege 
of Paris. — Closing in. — Curious Sights in the Capital. — Gen. Trochu's Review. — 
A Visit to Asnieres. — ■ Prussian Prisoners. — The Fight at Chatillon. — The French 
Retreat. — The Occupation of Versailles. — The Crown Prince of Prussia Visits the 
Old Home of Louis XIV 2G1 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Enemies Face to Face. — .Jules Favre ami Bismarck at Ferrieres. — -Personal Character- 
istics of the German Chancellor. — His Notions about France. — A Portrait of Him 
by Favre. — His Opinion of Napoleon III. — He Deceived Everybody. — The Crush- 
ing Terms Demanded of Franco. — The Force of Caricatures. — -M. Favre Considers 
his Mission at an End ............. 2Gi) 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

The Army of Strasbourg. — General Uhrich and the Fortress which he had to Defend. — 
The Forts. — The Cathedral. — Fire and Bombardment. — The Tyr.anny of the Mob. — 
Immense Destruction. — Loss of one of the most Valuable Libraries in the World. — 
German Siege Tactics. — The Spectacle after the Surrender 



CHAPTER XXX. 

Through tlie Conquered Country. — Strasbourg after its Trial. — Railway Journeys under 
Prussian Military Rule. — Nancy. — The Bavarians. — Epernay. — The Story of 
Pere .Tean. — Getting up to Versailles. — The Voices of the Forts .... 289 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

The Period of Hope. — Splendid Improvisation of Defense. — What Paris did uniler 
Pressure. — The Forts and their Armament. — The Departure of Gambetta in a Bal- 
loon. — Outcroppings of the Commune. — Fights outside the Walls of the Capital. — 
The Defense of Chateaudun. — A Bright Piige in French Military Annals. — A Panic 
at Versailles. — Von Moltke saves his Papers. — German Prepar.ations for Defense . 300 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

The Siege of Metz. — Its Tragedies and its Humors. — Steinmetz the Terrible. — -Bazaine's 
Curious Indecision. — The Guerilla AVarfare around tlie Fortress. — The Poisoned 
Wells Legend. — Starving the Citizens. — The Odor of Death. — General Changar- 
nier's Mission 308 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 

The Surrender of Metz. — Tlie Siispicii>us Nature of Bazaine's Negotiations. — The En- 
voy from the Fallen Imperialists. — The Affair of the Flags. — The Prisoners in Front 
of Metz and in Camps in Germany .......... :il(! 



O CONTENTS. 

FAGS 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

The Desperate Battles at Le Bourget. — liemnrkable Valor of the Freneh. ^ Episodes of 
the Defense. — The Charge of the Marines. — Thiers and Bismarek. — The Insurrec- 
tion of the ;!lst of October. — Brilliant Conduct of Jules Ferry ..... 323 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

Life at Head-quarters. — The Parades on tlie I'hiee d'.Vrmes. — Von Moltke in Versailles. 

— King William's Daily Labors. — Bismarck's Habits. — The General .Staff. — The 
Hotel des Reservoirs. — .V .Journey around Besieged Paris. — The Story of Mont 
Valerien. — Maisons Laffitte in War Time. — Getting under Fire. — The French 
and German Pickets. — In the Foremost Investment Lines. — Montmorency. — The 
Fight near Enghien. — Saint Gratien. — The Day before Champigny .... 329 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

The Period of Despair. — The Final Effort. — The (ireat ^or^ie. — Champigny. — The 

Fight at ViUicrs. — Ducrot and liis Disaster. — Valorous Conduct of the French. — ' 

The News of the Defeat of tlie Loire Army 338 

CHAPTER XXXVH. 

Panoramic View of the German Investment Lines. — Margency. — Gonesse. — Clielles. — 
The Various Corps and their Appearance. — Pictures from Versailles during tlie Occu- 
pation. — The Snow. — The Landwehrsmen. — The Christmas Festivities . . . 347 

CHAPTER XXXVHI. 

The Point of View. — The Campaign in tlie South. — The Phantom Mobile. — New Year's 
Day. — Scene at the Palace. — The Bombardment of Paris. — Between the Fires. — In 
Front of Fort Issy. — In the Batteries. — Coronation of King William of Prussia as 
Emperor of tiermany at Versailles .......... 356 

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

Bonrbaki and Belfort. — The Final Sortie of the French. — Montretout. — -The Panic in 

\'i'rsailli'>. — Tile Treaty for Peace. — The End of the Siege of Paris . . . . 3Gt> 

CHAPTER XL. 

Personal lieminiscences of the Close of the Siege. — The " Neutral Zone." — Wonders 
and Comicalities. — Through tlie Pnrk at St. Cloud. — The Crown Prince's Redoubt. 

— Starving Parisians. — The Hungry Faces. — A Hundred People following a Hare . 376 

CHAPTEPv XLI. 

A Great Historic Occasion. — The Assembly at Bordeau.x. — Thiers in his New Jidle. — A 
Political Tragedy in the Theatre de la Coinedie. — The Protest of tlie Alsatians. — 
The Final Impeachment of the Emjiire. — A Strange .Scene. — Louis Blanc, Victor 
Hugo, and the Other Exiles. — The \'otes for Peace. — A Stern Renunciation. — The 
Mavor of Strasbourg Dies of a Broken Heart ........ 3.S4 



CONTEXTS. 



CHAPTER XLII. 

Garibaldi ami Ins Rile. — -New Italy- — The Upgrowth of her Nationality. — Causes that 
Hindered it and Conduced to it. — The Influence of Napoleon III. — His Fatal Mistake 
in Counselling the Alliance of Prussia and Italy. — Downfall of the Old French 
Monarchical Policy. —The Hesitation of France. — Occupation of Rome by tlie Italian 
Government. —The Pontifical Zouaves 396 

CHAPTER XLIII. 

The Great Pier between the Mediterranean and the Adriatic. — Brindisi and Naples. — 
The Revival of Commerce. — Industrial E.xliibitions. — Universal Progress. — The 
Struggle between Church and State. — Pius IX. and Victor Emanuel. — Tlie High 
Priest of European Conservatism. — The " Non Possumus "of the Vatican. — Familiar 
Traits of Victor Emmanuel 403 

CHAPTER XLIV. 

The Pope at the Vatican. — The Daily Life of Leo XIII. — Its Picturesque, Spiritual, and 
Political Aspects. — The Continuance of the War between the Vatican and the Quiri- 
nal. — The Aims and Ambitions of the Catliolic Party in Italy. — Evolution or Revo- 
lution. — Prophecies of the Catholics. — Unredeemed Italy . ..... 414 

CHAPTER XLV. 

The German Parade on Longchamps. — • Tlie Triumphal Entry into Paris. — • Sliadows of Civil 
War. — Outbreak of " La Commune." — Tlie Greatest Insurrection of Modern Times. 

— Its Cause and its Hopes. — The Assassination of the Generals. ^ The First Fights. 

— The Manifestation of the " Friends of Order" 425 

CHAPTER XLVI. 

Decrees of The Commune. ^ The First Important Battle. — -Flourens Loses his Life. — 
Notes on Communal .lournalism. — The Burning of the Guillotine. — Great Funerals. 

— An Artillery Duel. — An Astonishing Spectacle 437 

CHAPTER XLVII. 

Pictures of The Commune. — General Cluseret. — The Hostages. — A Visit to tlie Communal 
Ministry of Public Instruction. — The Armistice. — Touching Incidents of the Fratri- 
cidal Struggle 443 

CHAPTER XLVIII. 

Dombrow.ski in the Saddle. — The Foreign Chiefs of the Commune. — General Cluseret. — 
His Arrest. — Delescluze. — A Despairing Revolutionist. — Rossel. — Bergeret. — The 
Declamatory Period. — The Combat at the Southern Forts. — A Hot Corner Under 
Shell Fire. — The Women of tlie Commune . ........ 454 

CHAPTER XLIX. 

The Commune Suppresses the Conservative Journals. — Insincere Professions of Liberal- 
ism. — The Pero Duchesne. — The Unroofing of M. Tliiers's House. — The Commu- 
nistic Ideal of Society. — Invasion of the Convents. — Reminiscences of Aubcr the 
Composer. — His Death. — The Fall of tlie Vendome Column. — The Communists 
Rejoice over the Wreck of Imperial Splendor. — • Measures against Social Vices . . 4(53 



10 CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER L. 

TliL' Narrow Escape from a Reign of Terror. — Tlie Men who Composed tlie Communal 
Councils. — The Beginning of the End. — Tlie Entering of the Regular Troops. -- The 
Tocsin. — The Night Alarm +72 

CHAPTER LI. 

Street Fighting as a Science. — The Barricades. — ,4 Ruse de Guerre. — Looking down on a 
Battle. — The Burning of the Rue Royale. — The Defence of Montmartre. — General 
Domhrowski's Death ............. 478 

CHAPTER LII. 

A >.'ight of Fires. — The IVtroleuses. — The Execution of Women. — Paris in Flames . 486 

CHAFPER LIH. 

The New Fight of The Bastille. — The Hotel ile Ville. —The Picturesque and Dramatic 

Episodes of the Creat Battles 499 

CHAPTER LIV. 

The Retreat from the Chateau d'Eau. — Ruins of the Hotel de Ville. — The Burinng of 
Iiii]iortant Pajiers. — I'iquet. — The Third Period of the Great Seven Days' Fight. — 
.\t tlie Buttes Chaumont 504 

CHAPTER LV. 

Concessions i.f M. Thiers. — The Vindictiveness of tlie MidiUe Classes. — Massacre of the 
I'risoners. — English Comments on the Seven Days' Fight. — Last Moments of the 
Insurrectionists. — Testimonies of Eye-witnesses. — Statistics of the Slaughter. — A 
Ciiriiuis Photograph. — Out of Storm into Calm ........ 312 

CHAPTER LVI. 

Contrasts. — After the Storrn, Calm. — London and Paris. — Points of Resemblance and of 
Contrast. — London and Paris Cockneys. — Old Lomlou. — Contrasts in Manners. — 
Food and Drink. — .Sunday in the Two Caiiitals. — JIutu.il Respect and Comical ( 'on- 
cealment of it . . . . . . ... . . . . .519 

CHAPTER LVH. 

The Germans at Dieppe. — The English Channel. — .\n Effective Fortification. — The 
"Precious Isle si't in the Silver Sea." — The North Sea Coast. — English Seaside 
RescM-ts. — The White Cliffs of England. — The Great Commercial Highway. -^ George 
Peabody at Portsmouth ............. 527 

CHAPTER LVI II. 

England's "Silent Highway." — The Sinirces of her Greatness. — Her Protection of her 
Trade, — Woolwich the Mighty. — (ireenwich and its History. — The Procession of 
Commerce. — London's Port. — The Docks and their Revenues. — London Bridge. — 
Dore in London .............. 533 



CONTENTS. 11 



CHAPTER LIX. 



Up River. — The Historic Thames.- — The University Races. — ^ Oxford and Cambridge. — 
The Great Race of 1869. — Harvard vs. Oxford. — Putney. — Wimbledon. — Hammer- 
smith. — Mortlake. — Thames Tactics. — A Reminiscence of Charles Dickens. — His 
Powers as an After-Dinner Speaker 53!) 



CHAPTER LX. 

Richmond and its Romance. — Richmond Hill. — The " Star and Garter." — The Richmond 
Theatre. — The Thames Valley. — Twickenham. — The Orleans Exiles and their 
English Home. — Strawberry Hill. — Hampton ( 'onrt. — Wolsey and Cromwell. — The 
Royal Residence. — Windsor and its Ori^'in ........ 546 



CHAPTER LXr. 

English Royalty. — The Court. — Memorials of Windsor. — St. George's Chapel. — The 
Park at Windsor. — The Royal Palaces. — Drawing-Rooms at Buckingham Palace. — 
Memorials of Buckingliara Palace ........... 552 



CHAPTER LXII. 

St. James's Palace. — The Story of Kensington. — Its Gardens. — The Charges which 
Royalty Entails. — The Prince of Wales. — Xn Industrious Heir .Apparent. — Marlbo- 
rough House. — The Title of Prince of Wales. — National Views of Allowances to 
Royal Personages. — Sandringham 553 



CHAPTER LXIII. 

Fortunes and Incomes of Members of the English Royal Family. — Ancient and Hereditary 
Pensions. — The Invisible Court. — Its Functionaries. — Precedency. — The .Aristo- 
cratic Element in the House of Commons 566 



CHAPTER LXIV. 

The Parliament Palace. — History and Tradition. — The New Home of the Plutocrats. — 
The Victoria Tower. — Westminster Hall. — The House of Lords. — Procedure in the 
Hereditarv Cliamber. — The Force of Inertia. — Parliamentarv Calm . . . . 572 



CHAPTER LXV. 

The Irish Members. — The Hotise of Commons. — The Sjieaker. — The Peers and the Cre- 
ation of New Peers. — The Passion for the Possession of Land. — An Active Session. 
— Procedure. — Bringing in Bills 579 



CHAPTER LXVr. 

The Treasury Whip. — Parliamentary Forms. — Oddities of the House of Commons. — 
Authority of the Speaker. — The Home Rule Members. — Irishmen in Loiulon. — 
Anomalies of English Representation. — "Reform." — Tlie Reconstruction of Lon- 
don's Municipal Government ........... 585 



12 COXTEA'TS. 



CHAPTER LXVII. 



Page 



The Evolution towards Democracy. — Sir Charles Dilke and Mr. Chamberlain. — English 
Directness and Plainnes.s of Speech. — Lord Hartington. — Mr. Labouchere. — Eng- 
lish Sources of Revenue. — Tlie Land Tax. — How it is Evaded. — Free Trade in 
Land. — Taxing the Privileged Classes. — The Coming Struggle .... 591 



ciiaptp:r lxviii. 

Public and Popular Speakers. — Spurgeon in his Tabernacle. — The Temperance 
Question. — The Financial Reform League. — Facts for Rich and Poor. — Bradlaugh 
in the Hall of Science. — Republican Meeting in Trafalgar Square. — -Gladstone at 
a Funeral. — "Oh! how Dreadful!" — Public Meetings in England. — Tlie Lord 
Mayor of London. — Banquets at tlie Mansion-llouse. — The City Companies. — 
"Lord Mayor'.s Day." — The Procession ......... ,598 



CHAPTER LXIX. 

"Tlie City." — The Daily Pilgrimage to It. — Exact Limits of the City District. — Demo- 
lition of Temple Bar. — Tlie Griffin. — Fleet Street. — Chaucer's Battle in this Famous 
Avenue. — The Newspaper Region. — The Temple. — The Inns. — The Law Students. 

— St. Paul's and its Neighborhood. — The Crypt in St. Paul's. — The Publisher's 
Haunts. — Tlie Bank. — Lombard Street. — Christ's Hospital. — The " Times " . i;09 

CHAPTER LXX. 

The Smoke ami Dirt of London. — Temperature. — Poor People and Dirty People. — 
Tlie London Season. — What it Is, and Wliat it Means. — The Races. — The Derby. 

— Going Down lo Epsoni. — Tlu' Return. — Goodwood. — Ascot. — The Royal Acade- 
my. — .Tohn MiUais. — Sir Frederick Leighton. — Music and Musicians . . . (519 

CHAPTER LXXI. 

Queen's Weather. — The Coaching Meets. — The Flower Shows. — Simplicity of English 
Manners. — Eccentricity and Excellence. — Foreigners and English Society. — The 
London Theatres. — Ellen Terry. — Mr. Wilson Barrett. — English Comedy Writers. 

— In the Park>. — Rotten Row. — Some Noble Houses in London. — .V Town of Men. 

— Political Intluence. —The Clubs (528 

CHAPTER LXXH. 

The Strand. — \ Historic Avenue. — The City and Country Types. — English Love for 
Nature. — The Farmer and His Troubles. — Rural Beauty in Warwickshire and 
Derbyshire. — The Shakespeare Festival in 1879. — Stratford. — Birmingham, the 
"Toy Shop of Europe" ............ 635 

CHAPTER LXXni. 

The Lake Country. — The Home of Poets and Essayists. — Scotland. — Glasgow, its 
Commerce and its Antiquities. — The Great Northern Seaport. — Edinburgh and its 
Memorials. — The Home of Burns. — In the Footsteps of Sir Walter Scott. — Mel- 
rose. — Dryburgli Abbey (U2 



CONTENTS. 13 



CHAPTER LXXIV. 



Page 



Scotland and Ireland. — ■ The Scotch Hij;hlands. — Scenes of Scott's Stories and Burns's 
Poems. — Balmoral. — -Over to Belfast. — ^ The Irish Land League. — Imprisonment 
of Parnell and his Partisans. — .The Crimes Act and its Causes. — A Land Leasj^ue 
Mass Meeting. — The Wild and Savage Peasantry 648 

CHAPTER LXXV. 

Dublin and its Chief Features. — -The Irish Climate. — Trinity College. — The Environs 

of the Irish Capital. — The Great Western Gateways, Queenstown and Liverpool . 63S 

CHAPTER LXXVI. 

Lord Beaeonsfield. — Mr. Gladstone. — -Two Careers Entirely Different in C'liaraeter, 
Purpose, and Result. — Personal Description of the two Great Premiers. — Imperial 
Policy. — Tlie Eastern Question in 1875. — -Mr. Gladstone's Attitude. — The Slavs 
of the South. — Servia, Herzegovina, Bosnia, and Montenegro. .... 663 

CHAPTER LXXVn. 

A Day witli a Voivoda. — An Insurgent Leader. — Among the Kocks. — A Picturesque 

Experience. — Turk and Slav. — Ljubibratic and his Men ...... 675 

CHAPTER LXXVIII. 

The Montenegrins. — The Inhabitants of the Black Mountain. — An Unconquered 
Race. — Among tlie Rocks. — The Implacable Enemies of the Turks. — \ Valiant 
Little Army. — The Montenegrin Women. — T!)e Ghl Prince-Bishops of Montenegro, 688 

CHAPTER LXXIX. 

Prince Nicholas of Montenegro. — The Outpost of Russia. — The Montenegrin Capital. — 

Battle with the Turks. . — Legends of Tsernagora ....... 697 

CHAPTER LXXX, 

Danubian Days. — Hungarians and Slavs. — A Turkish Fortress. — The Footprints of 
Traj.an. — Orsova the Fair. — Gypsies. — Animals in the East. — Lower Hungary and 
its Peculiar Features. — Wayside Inns along the Danube. — Tlie Harvesters Coming 
Home at Eventide. — Gypsies at Drenkova. — ■ Through the Iron Gates . . . 702 

CHAPTER LXXXI. 

A Journey through Roumania in War Time. — A Khan. — Its Advantages and Disadvan- 
tages. — Primitive Life of the Villagers. — On the Great Plains. — The Water Wells. 

— The Approaches to Bucharest. — ^ Roumanian Legends. — The Frontier of Europe. 

— French Influence in Roumania. — Bucharest and New Orleans .... 71G 

CHAPTER LXXXn. 

Notes on Bucharest. — Streets and Street Types. — The Wallaehian Soldiers. — Con- 
scripted Peasantry. — Roumanian Independence. — Priests and Churches . . . 723 



14 COX TEATS. 



CHAPTER I>XXXII1. 

Tlio Onnk'ii of Horestreii. — Gypsy Music. — Uoumanian Amusements. — Prince Gorts- 
cliiil<c)ff at Bucliarest. — General Ignatieff. — Uoumanian Houses. — Ploiesci. — A 
Funeral in Koumania. — A Bit of History. — A Liberal Constitution. — King Charles. 
— The Upgrowth of Literature 7;!0 

CHAPTER EXXXIV. 

The Early Roumanians — The Language. — Greek I'lays. — Agriculture. — The Jlinor 
Towns of Rouniania. — Jassy. — On the Bessarabian Frontier. — Galatz. — National 
Manners. —Uoumanian Monasteries .......... 73'J 



CHAPTER LXXXV. 

Willi tlie Itussians in Bulgaria. — On the ])anulie. — Simnitza. — The Extemporaneous 
Lnpcrial Head-quarters. — The Early Cam[iai,;n in I'ulgaria. — Singing of the Rus- 
sian Troojis. — Sistova. — Bulgarian Men. — The Farmers. — Manners of the Russian 
Army Offleers. — The (iran.l Duke Nicholas. -- The Elder Skobclcff. — The Russian 
Emperor in the Field 7-iS 

CHAPTER LXXXVE 

General Radctzky. — Russians on tlie March. — Infantry Men. — Cossacks. — F>raginiirnff. 

— In Cani]i. — Reception of the Liberating Russians bythe Bulgarians. — Enthusiasm 
of the Women and Children. — Welcome by the Monks and Priests. — The Defile 
beside the Yantra. — Tlie Arrival atTirnova. — Triumphal Procession. — The Grand 
Duke Nicliolasin Churcli. — The Picturesciuc City on the Yantra. — The Greek Ladies. 

— Fugitives from Eski Zaghra ........... ".'jG 

CHAPTER LXXXVH. 

Previous Insurrection in Bulgaria. — A Retrospect. — . ,Servia's Aid to Bulgaria. — Russian 
Agents. — The Triple Alliance. — Rustcluik, its Defence. — .Turkish Transports. — 
The Road to the Balkans. — Gabrova. — Turkish Time. — Bulgarian Schools and 
their Varying Fortunes. — Renegade^. — The Passes of the Balkans. — Prince Tser- 
teleff. —The Sliipka Pass. —Mount St. Nicholas. — Suleiman Pa>lia and Radetzky . 70:5 



CHAPTER EXXXVHE 

The Mutilation of the Russian Wounded. — ^ A Convent of Women near Galirdva, and 
Bulgarian Monasteries.— Through the Balkans. . — Kczanlik. — - Rose Culture and the 
Rose Ciardens. — Eski Zaghra and the M.assacre. . — The Malice of Suleiman Pasha. 
— -The Vengeance of the Agas. — The Bulgarian Army. — Th.e National Life of the 
Bulgarians ............... 



CHAPTER LXXXIX. 

Plevna and its Influence on the Russian Campaign. — The Roumanians. — Their Valor 
in the Field. — Osman Pasha. — The Despair of SkobelefF. — Across the B.alkans. — 
The Descent upon Constantinople. — Hostility of iMigland to Russian Designs. — ■ 
The Berlin Congress. — Its Result. — ^The Partition of South-eastern Europe 



CONTENTS. 15 



CHAPTER XC. 



Paue 



Municli in its Stonj Plain by tlie Isar. — ■ The Cold Greek Arcliitectnre (if tlie Bavarian 
Capital. — The Monarchs of Bavaria. — -The Present King Louis. — An Eccentric 
Sovereign. — Wagner and Bayreuth. — Gambrinus in Municli ..... 792 

CHAPTER XCI. 

The Passion-Play at Obcr-Amniergau. — -The Theatre of the Passion. — Old Miracle 
Plays. — The Chorus at Ober-.\mniergau. — Bavarian Wood-carvers as Actors. — 
The Personator of the Saviour. — Caiaphas. — -The Figures of Peter and Judas. — 
The Women Interpreters of the Passion. — The Departure from Bethany, and the 
Last Supper. — -Comments of a Distinguished American Actor. — The Scourging and 
the Crown of Tliorns. — The Despair of Judas. — ^ Effective Portrayal of tlie Juilg- 
ment and Crucifixion. — A Beautiful, Holy, and Noble Dramatic Sketch of the Most 
Wonderful Life and Death TOO 

CHAPTER XCII. 

Vienna, where the East meets tlie West. — Tlie Emperor of Austria. — His Simple Life. 

— The Slavs and Hungarians. — Berlin and Bismarck. — The Aged German Emperor. 

— Startling Progress of German Inrlustry. — The Thrones of the North. — Nihilism 
and Socialism. . — • Colonial Schemes. — Possible Absorption of the Small Countries 

of Europe 812 

CHAFFER XCIII. 

The Storm of Europe Diverted into Africa. — How Great Britain was Drawn into 
Egyptian Affairs. —Tlie Revolt of Arabi. — Rise of El Malidi. — Gordon to the 
Rescue. — The Long Siege of Khartoum. — Fall of the Soudanese Stronghold and 
Reported Death of Gordon. — The Recall of Wolseley 821 

CHAPTER XCIV. 

The Death of Victor Hugo. — The Greatest European Man of Letters since Goethe. — 
Napoleon III.'s Irreconcilable Foe. — -His Obsequies. —The Pantheon Secularized. 

— In State Beneath the Arch of Triumph. — ^A Vast Procession. — -The Demon- 
stration of the French People ........... »36 

CHAPTER XCV. 

Laborers for Peace. — The New Territories given to European Powers by the Congo 
Conference. — ^Impossibility of Permanent Peace. — Believers in Arbitration. — M. 
De Lesseps and Mr. Stanley. — Tlie United States of Europe. — Victor Hugo's 
Dream. — Republican Sentiment. — The Strengthening of the French Rcimblic. — 
Will Storm and Calm Forever Alternate in Europe? 842 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



go 



down 



rraci' 



liiin 



TIk' Imperial Family 

Napoleon III.'s Guests in the Clianip ile Mars Pav 

The French Emperor am! Eni]iress at Compiegne 

Episode of the Coup d'fitat . 

A Parisian Journalist in Prison 

Proclaiming the Spanisli Kepublic . 

The Escurial, near Madrid 

Figliting at a Barricade in "Valencia 

Mountaineers Going Home after the Sie 

Wedding of Alfonso XII. 

Castelar at Home .... 

Bull-tight before tlie King and Queen 

The Bull iias the best of it . 

Alcazar and Walls of Toledo . 

The Puerta del Sol 

A Palio in Seville .... 

Beggars at the Cathedral Door 

The Murder of Victor Noir . 

Rochefort and the Working-men ridden 

Gambetta in the Baudin Prosecution 

The Speech from the Throne 

Thiers in the Tribune 

The Man of Destiny on the Tuileries T' 

Police breaking up a Republican Meeti 

Dispersing a Parisian Riot 

Head-quarters of Xapoleon at Chalons 

The End of the Empire. Assault by Police on Citizem 

The Imperial Police protected by the Republican Gua 

The President of the Corps Legislatif watching the Inv 

Invasion of the Corps Legislatif, Sept. 4, 1H70 

The Flight of the Empress 

Napoleon III. Prisoner at AVilhelmsliolie 
French Guard Mobile in the Carap of St. Maur 
Camp of the French Marines at St. Vitry 
Running away from tlie Siege .... 

The Old and New Regime. Republican National Gu 
perial Guard ....... 

Up the Hill at Villiers 

The Priests' Ambulance Corps at the Battle of Cliamp 
Episode in the Siege of Paris. No more Bread 
The French Troops abandoning the Plateau at Avron 
Arrest of a Supposed Spy ..... 

The Wall of Buzenval. Episode of the Siege of Paris 
Garibaldi at Bordeaux ...... 

Victor Hugo at Bordeau.x 



ard 



ird .■• 



gny 



lutin; 



ule 



rd B 



Rei 



if th. 



Im- 



Pacf 

2:! 

•11 

Ho 

47 

.51 

.li) 

(il 

73 

77 

!»5 

90 

105 

107 

117 

123 

127 

123 

1:1.-1 

i:i7 

141 

145 

l.-.:i 

ICl 

ii;;! 

207 
223 
227 
231 
233 
237 
259 
2(58 
301 
303 

339 
343 
344 
345 
359 
3G7 
3G9 
287 
391 



18 



L/.sr OF ILU'SITRATIOMS. 



instiilluil 



roups 



I W'luioIIR' 



Tlio Last Bt'iu'iliction of Pojio Pius IX. .... 

Victor Emmanuel and Princo Humljort at the Quiriual . 
Attendants and Officials at tlie Vatican .... 

Pope Leo XIIL in his Private Cabinet .... 

The Pope receives a Visitor ...... 

The Top of Montniartre, where the Conniiunist Cannon were 

Funeral of Charles Hugo 

Communist Troops going to the Front ... 
Thiers and McMahon meeting at Longchanips 

Death of Flourens 

The Itue Perronet at Neuilly . ..... 

Episode of the Commune. (Jen. La Cecilia reviewing his Ti 
Terrace at Meudon, occujiied liy A'ersaillcs Troops 
Connnunist Funeral at Niglit . ..... 

Episode of the Commune. The Fallen Ca'sar. The Column 
Fac-simile of a Title-page ...... 

The Prisoncr.s returning from Germany 
Children of the Communist Prisoners eating 8ouii with tlie Versailles 
Scene from the Commune. The Barricades of the Rue de Kennes 
Burning of the Hotel de Ville ..... 

The Last Placard of the Conunune .... 

Sunday Market in Pettii'oat Lane ..... 

The Scotch Volunteers at Brighton .... 

On the Sands at Brighton ...... 

Types of English Lower Classes 

Guardians of the Tower ...... 

Boat-race on the Thames ...... 

Departure of the Prince <if Wales for India . 

Interior (if the House of Connnons .... 

Recent Dynamite Explosions at tlie House of Commons in Lo 
Mass-Meeting on Trafalgar Square .... 

Lord Mayor's Day. Sailors in Procession 

Dimier with the Lord Mayor ...... 

The Thames, from the Top of St. Paul's. Westminster PaJa 

Archbishop Manning preaching Temperance . 

At the Punch and Judy Show ..... 

Saturday Night in Workman's Quarter .... 

Salvation Army . 

The Queen's Carriage 

The Queen conferring the Order of Kniiilithoo.l 

On the Road to Epsom 

Fox-hunting in England ....... 

Stopping the Hunting 

Deer-stalking in the Highlands 

A Land League Mass-Meeting 

A Familiar Irish Scene ....... 

The Western Gateway. The Landing Stage at Liverpool 
Montenegrins on the Watch ...... 

The Russians crossing the Danube in Front of Sistova . 

Hungarian Types 

Uoumanian Types ........ 

P>ulgarians ilefending a Mountain Pass .... 

Ejiisode of the Siege of Plevna 

.Signing the Treaty of San Stefano .... 



Soldic 



ndon 



in. tli( 



Distance 



AOK 

4011 
+ 1! 
'17 
418 
41',» 
427 
4211 

4:!.-. 
4:!i» 

411 

tt'.l 
4.",:) 

4(11 
470 
471 
4S'.i 

4:)3 
.->oi 

.■)13 

.'.2:! 



.■>3() 
,-)3.-. 
.-)3,S 
.-,43 

.-,i;4 



(101 
G03 
(!().". 

i;o7 

(Ids 

i;ii 

(113 
(-.18 
(■.2(1 

(:2i 

(-.24 
()2.'> 

(;37 
(:i7 
(;."..", 
(;,",(; 
(iiii 

(1811 

7u:'. 
7i.-> 

7:; I 
77(1 
781 



LIST OF lljLUfiTRATlONS. 



19 



The Berlin Congress ........ 

The Radzi\vill Pahieo, in wiiieli the Herlin Con^jress was liehl 
Constantinople anil the Islands ...... 

Palace of the Sultan at Constantinople ..... 

Embarkation of Troops for Eiiypt ...... 

Departure of Troops for Egypt ..... 

The End of a Romance. Napoleon HI. on his Death-bed . 



787 
788 
780 
790 
8.30 
883 
847 



POKTK.AITS. 



Bismarck (Military), 1S7I) 






27", 


Bismarck (Civilian), 1S84 






270 


Von Moltke 






:',;n 


Queen of Italy . 






422 


King of Italy 






42H 


Victor Hugo 






,531 


Queen Victoria 






r>:u', 


Prince of Wales 






.501 


Princess of Wales and Family 




.503 


Right Hon. John Bright, M.P. 




577 


Joseph Chamberlain, M.P. 




5!)3 


Iiol>ert Browning 




034 


George Eliot .... 




041 


Lord Beaconsiield . 






005 



Right Hon. W. E. ( 
(Jeneral Skoljelefl' 
Emperor of Austria 
Emperor William of 
Emperor of Russia 
El Mahdi . 
Gen. C. G. Gonlon 
Lord Wolseley . 
King of Belgium 
Henry M. Stanley 
M. Ferdinand De Li 
King of Spain 
.Tules Grew 



ladst 



one, MP. 



Gerii 



lany 



sse])s 



007 
755 
814 
810 
818 
823 
825 
831 
842 
843 
H44 
840 
84!) 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



CHAPTER ONE. 



The Volcanic Shimmer. — Paris in 1867. — The Second Empire at the ITci^'ht of its Glory. — The 
" Crowning of the Edifice." — The Festival of Peace. — The '* Pi-ophecy of Evil." — Napoleon 
receives Distinguished Guests. — Attempted Assassination of Alexander the Second. — The Sultan 
in Paris. — The Luxembourg Panic. — The Hidden Forces at Work. 



THE traveller who climbs to the sum- 
mit of Vesuvius on a day when the 
great volcano is apparently at perfect 
rest, and at a period when no manifesta- 
tions of its wrath are expected, will ob- 
serve, as he looks down into the vast 
bowl of the crater, the delicate shimmer 
caused by rising heat. The transparent 
air is tremulous, and although the scene 
upon which the visitor gazes from this 
strange mountain is one of e.\(juisite 
beauty and tranquillity, hecannotrestrain 
the feeling of foi-eboding, as he thinks 
of the tremor in the atmosphere. It is 
the perpetual menace of the hidden forces, 
re.ady to break forth, overturning all the 
barriers iuter|)osed between themselves 
and liberty ; and, in the mad rush of their 
escape, likely to transform the smiling 
landscapes, historic villages, and teem- 
ing cities, into a chaos not unlike the 
primal one. 

In Paris, in 18(57, the Second Empire 
had reached the height of its glory and 
renown. From all corners of the world, 
from the most brilliant Oriental capitals, 
from northern cities, from Asia and from 
America, the chiefs of State and the 
celebrities of the moment came to the 



Queen city to offer their tribute of praise 
and admiration, and to join in the cele- 
bration of a festival of peace. To the ..-as- 
nal observer the beautiful French c apital 
in this year of splendor and gayety at first 
seemed to offer a perfect example of the 
wise results of sound administration and 
willing devotion to the arts of peace ; 
but, in looking attentively, day by day, 
upon the scene, it was easy to discover — 
it was impossilile in fact not to see — 
the menacing volcanic shimmer, which 
indicated a coming outbreak of forces too 
long repressed, too certain to break forth 
in wild disaster. 

The Second Empire in France had 
passed into a proverb. It was no longer 
the fashion to speak of its creation as 
a crime. The passionate pages of 
Kinglake, the stinging denunciations of 
Hugo, were almost considered as partisan 
and ungenerous. The French people 
were condemned, .as the punishment for 
their culpable supineness, day by day to 
hear it said of themselves that they were 
unfit for self-government, and that the 
Empire had been for them an unmixed 
blessing. It impresses one now, half a 
generation after these last brilliant 



22 



EUROPE IK STORM ASD CALM. 



moments of the Second Empire, ciiii- 
onsly, to remcmbei- that from the United 
States came a great part of the moral 
support accorded to Napoleon III. : 
not only did he succeed in grouping 
about him potentates, who, fifteen years 
liefore, had considered him the most 
wretched of purveinis; not only did lie 
invite to jiis Court, and instal in 
his palace of tlie Tuilories. the Czar 
of all the Russias, and the Sultan of 
Turkey ; but lie wooed from the ad- 
miring bosoms of the fair Repulili- 
cans of the West a homage which they 
would never have paid to a iKirvenu at 
home. 

At this particular time the Repub- 
licans in France were half inclined to 
lower their bucklers for a while, and to 
pause in their attacks upon the govern- 
ment which they had so long detested, 
irresolute as they were in presence of 
the numerous experiments and reforms 
so loudly announced by the Imperial 
agents. The year of the great " Exiio- 
sition" was ushered in with a wonderful 
flourish of trumpets by the Imperial 
ministry. It was said and printed, for 
the first time since the coup d'Etat, that 
the hour for a cessation of repressive 
measures had arrived ; that the long 
period of personal government, rendered 
necessary by the so-called anarchy of 
1848, had come to an end. The 
"crowning of the edifice," as the 
political jargon of the moment had it, 
was soon to take place. If one could 
credit the assertions of all who were 
interested in the support of the Imperial 
dynasty iu France, the one wish of the 
Emperor was to give with liberal hand 
as much freedom to his long-oppressed 
people as they could conveniently digest. 
He and his were to be the judges of the 
quantities of liberty to be dispensed, 
and they confidently invited the judg- 



ment of Europe upon their wisdom in 
taking otf some few of the screws. 

Each foreign State vied with the other 
in its endeavors to be agreeable and 
flattering to the Em|)ire. A Parisian 
was perhaps pardonalile at this time for 
his supposition that Paris was the sun 
around nliicli the society of the world 
revolved. Paris fashions, Paris comic 
music, and Parisian hric-a-brac, were 
famous throughout Europe, and had 
made their way into the remotest 
regions of Asia, Africa, and America. 
It is true, that when one turned to the 
soberer domains of literature and high 
art, it was found that the French Empire 
had fostered the production of little or 
nothing within them. The great artists 
were not to lie found at the Court. 
They were voluntarj' or involuntary 
exiles. The theatre had become so 
frivolous that it was the scandal of 
Europe, and among the few painters of 
eminence who basked iu the Imperial 
sunshine were many who did not hesi- 
tate to satirize, in the most liitter man- 
ner, the ri'ijiiiif under which they lived. 
The social corruption had reached such 
a height that it could be paralleled 
oul^- by the corruption which was no 
longer concealed in politics. Paris was 
filled with a throng of adventurers, or 
newly enriched people, aristocratic iu 
income, though not in bi'eediiig. They 
came from everywhere, and at the first 
whiff of smoke of the war in 1870 they 
disappeared like ilemons in a pantomime. 
Few of them have returned. They 
seemed to belong to the especial epoch 
which closed wifli the fall of the Empire ; 
to have had their day as certain flics 
have theirs, and at its close to have 
finished their existence. 

However various might have been the 
judgments passed upon the P^mpire and 
the Emperor, there was no variance of 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



23 



opinion as to the Exposition. It was it had really lost by the co?/p rf'Sto/ ; and 
a grand festival of art and industry, it kept up this policy faithfully until it 
upon wiiich the Imperial party had S])cnt was no longer of nnj' service. 



M 




THE IMPKRIAL FAMII-Y. 



much time and labor. The Empire 
tiioroughlj' uuderslooil the science of 
diversions. It began by giving the 
public splendid shows, military reviews, 
and the glitter of foreign expeditions. 



The Exposition of ].S()7 \va,s imagined 
Ijurely as a diversion. In ISC') the 
Empire had already liegun to decline. 
The formidable Republican Opposition 
grouped against it as long ago as 1857 



hoping to divert its attention from what had at last become extremely powerful. 



24 



EUROPE LV STORM AND CALM. 



aiul ill 18G4 and ISCifi was decidedly 
aggressive. Tliis oppusitiou was led b\' 
IK^litioians of the exjieiieuee and impor- 
tance of Thiers, Berryer, Lanjuinais, 
Jnles Favre, Ernest Pieard, Jules Simon, 
Garnier-Pagi^s, and Pelletau. Gaui- 
betta's voice liad not yet been heard 
outside the rufix of the Latin Quarter, 
or tlie narrow l)oundaries of the court- 
room. Emile Ollivier was a prominent 
figure in tliis opposition to tlie govern- 
ment and tlie majority in the Chamber. 
lie, like one or two other politicians 
who were Kepnblican in name, listened 
to the specious jiromises of tlie Im[)eri- 
alists, and allowetl himself to be won 
over to their cause of pretended libcial 
relorm. Napoleon had said that •• the 
Enipii\' was peace," at the outset of his 
Imperial career; but ho had until this 
year's first months been contradicting 
himself by maintaining, against even 
the opinion of the more enligliteued of 
his own party, the shattered reninants 
of the French expedition in Mexico, and 
was daily exi)ecting to hear news of the 
disaster which could no longer be avoided 
there. 'I'lic iuimensc and cordial wel- 
coiiK' acciirdcil to tiie Exliiliition wlien it 
opened, in the spring of l.StiT, was a 
veritable godsend to the Empire. It 
undoubtedlv put back the clock of fate 
by many himis. 

Ijiit tlit^ clock of fate was not to be 
stopiied, nor yet cracked or broken. It 
went on witli remorseless " tick," and it 
was with greater vexation and restless- 
ness than he li;id n.anifested at any 
j)i'e\ ions time in his career lliat the 
Ein|>eror began his large and splendid 
series of festivals. He had been from 
his youth too acute an oliserver of j)olit- 
ical indi<-ations not to have perceived 
that the position of France in Europe 
luid greatly clianged. It was tlie fasli- 
ion at his Court to deny that the events 



in Schleswig-IIolstein, and the brisk and 
astounding campaign which cuhniuated 
in the defeat of Austria at Sadowa in 
1800, had one jot shaken French pres- 
tige ; liiit Napoleon III. knew better. 
lie was wiser than the [leople whom he 
had grouped around him. The insin- 
cere, the corrupt, persisted in their 
theory that France W'onld only have 
to put forth an atom of her ancient 
strength to maintain her historic iiiHu- 
euce and to reduce to their proper [iro- 
portions the newly arisen pretensions of 
Prussia. In the long years of his cap- 
tivity the Emperor had made careful 
studies in social and political science, 
and he doubtless realized that the time 
had come for the unification of the ho- 
mogeneous peo})les in the numerous 
.States of Germany. So, too, it is fair 
to suppose that he foresaw Italian 
unification ; and as both these were, 
from the selfish political stand-point, 
dangers and menaces to the greatness 
of France, perhaps he dreamed of suil- 
deiily checking them. Be that as it 
may, the Exi)osition period was grate- 
fully recognized I'V all nations as a 
breathing-space in a time of storm 
upon which Europe had entered ; and 
none were more grateful in their recog- 
nition tliaii tlie Prussians, who had fully 
believed that France would not sulimit 
quietly to the results of Sadowa. 

So Europeans and Americans alike 
forgot, or wilfully ignored, the volcanic 
siiimmer, and united in the grand fes- 
tival of pleasure, feasting the senses, 
and most of all tlie attention, upon the 
wonders spread belong them in the most 
beautiful capital of the Western AVoiid. 
The Imperial commission which directed 
the Exhibition did its work with skill and 
I'liergy, and filled tlie Champ de Mars 
witli a giaml epitome of European 
material progress. It was remarked 



EUROI'E IX STORM AND CALM. 



25 



that Gornmuy liad bill little of an imlns- 
Irial character to show, and the sprightly 
chroniclers for the small journals of the 
boulevard expended their wit upon the 
mammoth cannon which lilled the Ger- 
man section of the Exiiibition Palace, 
little realizing that a few years after- 
wards similar cannon would frown n[>on 
Paris from the hills environing her. In 
order and arrangement the Exhibition 
was perhaps superior to any of its 
successors, not excepting tlie mammoth 
one held in Philadelphia in LSTiI. 

The international craze was just begin- 
ning in 1.SG7. The current of travel 
from America had already begun, and 
European prices had not yet assumed that 
vertiginous upward course which they 
have latterly taken and maintained. 
The trans-Atlantic stranger, witli his 
new fortune, found I'aris the paradise 
of cheapness and luxury- Ridi Rus- 
sians, innumerable Germans of uiecliuni 
fortune, Turks and Anstrians. (Ireeks 
and Hebrews, Scandinavians and Anglo- 
Saxons, nightly thronged the newly 
ornamented boulevards. Snch crowds 
have never been seen in Paris since. 
In those days the electric light was 
in its infancy, and few large cities 
had had the courage to make experi- 
ments with it. But Imperial Paris took 
it, used it generously, and perha|)s 
hoped that the volcanic shimmer would 
be less perceptible beneath its artificial 
glare. The pageants of the Exhi))ition 
were very numerous, and some of them 
will be famous in history. Paris was 
filled with crack ti'oops, well drilled, 
well dressed, proud of the duties con- 
stantly givfeu them, and with their 
national vanity yet untarnished by any 
of those sad reverses which they were 
culled to suffer a little later. The Im- 
perial Court was at Compii^gne, but 
Napoleon first received his royal guests 



at the Tuilcries. As these guests ar- 
rived one by one, they were welcomed 
with all the splendors liefitting their 
exalted stations. The liberal journals, 
which had indulged in sinister prophe- 
cies ihiit the parvfiiu Emperor could not 
bring to his side the legitimate sover- 
eigns of Eui'ope, gracefully acknowl- 
edged their error, and joined in the 
general enthusiasm. Napoleon affected 
a slightlv democratic deraeauor, while 
carefully maintaining with relation to 
his guests all the etiquette to which they 
attached so much im()oi1ance, and of 
which the Empre^-s Eugenie was always 
such a passionate devotee. 

No doubt the visit of the Emperor 
Alexander II. (jf Russia would have in 
less dangerous times been productive of 
a certain current of opinion in France 
favorable to the maintenance of the Em- 
[lire there. The spectacle of the Czar of 
all the Russias riding in the same car- 
riage with Napoleon III., and accepting 
his hospitality, was not without its weight. 
It seemed as if the man who had so 
long been called an adventurer had at 
last enrolled himself in the society to 
which he had always desired to belong. 

Alexander II. of Russia had just en- 
tered upon his repressive policy in Poland 
when he made iiis visit to Paris, and he 
was perhaps a little surprised, on arriv- 
iug in the court-yard of the Tuileries, to 
be saluted with a sonorous '■'■Vive la 
Polognc, Monsieur!" which came from 
the lips of that stanch republican Mon- 
sieur Floquct, who subsequentl3' became 
one of the chief municipal authorities of 
the French capital. In February of 
18G7 the Russian Emperor had sup- 
pressed the Polish Council of State, and 
had given the i)ublic instruction of the 
country into the hands of Russian authori- 
ties. This was preliminary to the great 
measure which he took in 18G8, when by 



2(i 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



.Ill ukase he siiiipressed the Kingdom of 
Poland, and forbade Polish ladies and 
gentlemen to wear their national cos- 
tnmes. Infinite precautions were taken 
hy the aiithoi-ities of tiie French Empire 
against any attempts uijon the lives of 
(1)0 visiting sovereigns; lint the legions 
of police which swarmed in the city 
were not snllicient to protect the Czar 
Alexander from an attemi>ted assassina- 
tion. I chanced to he close to the Im- 
perial carriage when the fanatic Bere- 
zowski, on the day of the review of the 
9th of June in the Bois de Bonlogue, fired 
a pistol at Alexander's head. There was 
an immense pi'ess of people returning 
from the review, and inucli crowding and 
confnsion were caused by the sudden 
arrival of a great body of cavalry which 
was making its way at a vigorons trot out 
of the wood. In common with thou- 
sands of others I was pressed forward 
to the main avenue, along which the Em- 
peror of Russia was jnst returning. I 
heard a pistol sliot, anil tlicn an im- 
mense "Ah!" sueii as only a Latin 
crowd can utter ; and next, much to my 
surprise, I saw t\\v carriage filled witii 
ugly-looking fellows in lilack clothes, who 
were doubtless the police agents, with 
which the crowds were plentifully inter- 
spersed. 

There was no time during the clos- 
ing days of the Second liimpire when 
one conld feel that in a miscellaneous 
assembly of a dozen persons, unless 
it was by invitation in a [jrivate par- 
lor, there would not be one or two 
police spies. These spies were found 
everywhere. They infested the cafh. 
They otl'ered for sale opera-glasses and 
trifling trinkets, and peert'd impertinently 
into travellers' faces. They assumed 
every conceivable disguise, and fre- 
quently made report on matters which 
were not of the slightest consequence. 



now and tiien sei'iously embarrassing 
innocent strangers, whose notions of 
free speech were brought from a less 
exhausted atmosphere. If two peoi)le 
began a, discussion on the street the 
tliird man who was sure to come up and 
listiMi was either a serr/erd dc viJIf, as the 
policemen were called in tiiose <lays, or 
was a private detective. Any gi-oup of 
three, four, or five persons, standing to 
discuss and apfiearing to be dee[)lv in- 
terested in conversation in any street 
door-way of public building or in a square, 
was immediately requested to " move 
on." Anj' refusal to obey would have 
been followed by arrest, and anj' offence 
against the Imjierial notions of order 
was qualified as criminal. 

The would-be assassin of the Emperor 
of Russia was insane with passion, or he 
would not have dreamed of attempting 
the life of a sovereign in a town so filled 
with pi'ivate spies and police-officers as 
Paris. The Sultan of Turkey, Abdul 
Aziz, who afterwanis had so tragic an 
end, was highly gratified at the mas- 
terly manner in whicli he was surrounded 
by a, net-work of spies from the moment 
of his arrival to that of his departure. 
He was the most apprehensive, timid 
creature that I remember ever to have 
seen in [lublic. On one occasion he was 
taken through the principal streets in one 
of the great gala carriages of the time of 
Louis XIV., and his carriage was sur- 
rounded in the Rue Royale by a crowd 
which was (juite crazy with curiosity. 
Tlie Sultan sat cowering in a corner of 
this anti(]ue vehicle, sweltering in his 
heavj' European uniform, loaded down 
with gold and silver decorations, and 
looking very umch more like a criminal 
who had been detected than like the de- 
fender of the faithful and the successor 
of Soliman the Magnificent. 

Among the guests of note who came 



EUROl'E IN STORM AND CALM. 



27 




U**^ 



NAPOLEON III.'S GUESTS IN THE CHAMP DK MAi:S PAVILIOX. 



28 



EUROPE I\ STORM AiVD CALM. 



to Paris in this gala year were two elilerly 
geiitleinen of sober mien, who attiaeted 
more attention than the Czar or the Sul- 
tan, and whose visit was of more vital 
sigiiiricance than that of the ahovc-men- 
tiouod potentates. These two person- 
ages were King William of Prussia, and 
Bismarck, who had left behind him in 
Paris years ago, when he had been sta- 
tioned tliere as a ilii)loniat, the reputation 
of a liiilliaut wit and a ej'nical and gen- 
erally successful wire-puller. The Pari- 
sian i-alible made fun of the sliiniug 
helmet and the white coat which Bismarciv 
wore when he mounted his steed to 
attend the review at I^ongc!iami)s, and 
many pleasantries were indulged in at 
tiie expense of the venerable Prussian 
king. But the intelligent and cultivated 
classes were careful U) make no jokes 
about the Prus.sians, and improved to 
the utmost their opportunities of cul- 
tivating pleasant relations with them. 
Na|>oleon and his fdllowers had an 
unbounded coulidence in their a])ilitv 
to arrange matters. They fancieil that, 
with the prestige of the First Em|iiie be- 
iiind it, the Second could manage to 
overawe aggression, even though it might 
not |)ossess the force su<ldenly to repel 
it. King William and Bismarck were 
carefully entertained at Compi^gue, and 
listeneil with frigncrl if not with rt'al in- 
terest U) tile many }iolitical combinations 
cither proposed to them, or hinted at in 
tlieir [iresence. The Prussians would 
certainly have been exacting had thi-y 
not approved of the [lolicy of the Im- 
perial [tarty in France, for it was fcclile 
enough directly to serve their interests. 
" France," s.ays M. Simon, '• as a neces- 
sary consequence of the prodigious in- 
crease of [lower in Prussia, consequent on 
her victoi'y at Sadowa, stepiped down 
from the first rank into the second. 
Napoleon had made a fatal error in at- 



tempting to observe the |)olicy set forth 
in the siieech in which he ab:in;loned 
Austria to her fate. He said, ' With 
regard to (iermany my intention is 
henceforth to observe a policy of neu- 
trality which, without hindering ns now 
and then from expressing our sympathies 
or our regrets, leaves ns strangers to ques- 
tions in which our interests are not di- 
rectly engaged.' " M. Thiers pointed out, 
in 18GG, the danger of this indifference 
which the Km|)ire desired to manifest. 
lie said tliat it was to be feared that 
Germany would profit by it. Benedetti, 
the ambassador to Berlin, who afterwards 
became so notorious, at the time of the 
declaration of war in 1870, wrote to his 
goverinnent that in 180(i the simple 
manifestation of French symjmthies 
vvonld have comiiletely checked tiie prog- 
ress of Bismarck and enaliled Austria 
to escape the liumiliation which she was 
called on to suffer shortly afterwards. 
M. Simon and many other impartial 
writers (.)n the Imperial i)olic\' exiiress 
their opinion that Napoleon III. allowed 
Prussia to aggrandize herself because he 
hoped to lie paid in kind. He had am- 
Ijitious notions as to Rhenish i>rovinces 
and to Belgium which were never des- 
tined to be realized. 

The hidden forces in the volcanic 
bosom gave one iiuiinous rumble in 18G7. 
The Emi)ire had just been obliged to 
announce the disastrous end of the Mex- 
ican cx[iedition. It did not care to 
enter into .-i struggle with the United 
States, which at that moment had upon 
the Mexican frontier an army large 
enough to cope with any foive that 
France c<iuld uuister. In presence of 
the Mexican failure, and under [(res- 
sine of the keen criticisms which the 
ilireetors of French [iolicy received for 
the danger in which they had left Maxi- 
mili:m, Na[)oleon III. looked des[)erately 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



29 



about him for some new [troject likely 
to be popular, and was led, almost be- 
fore lie knew it, into initninent danger 
of war with fluslicd and victorious Ger- 
many, lie liad again begun his cam- 
paign in favor of the annexation of 
Belgium, and was secretly working it 
out before the early suunuer of 18G7. 
It was, I fancy, during the visit of the 
numerous sovereigns that he at last got 
full light on the question of a rectifica- 
tion of French frontiers along the Rhine. 
He found that this was impossible in a 
pacific manner, and so he began negotia- 
tions with the King of Holland, who 
was the Grand Duke of the Ouchy of 
Luxembourg, to obtain from him for a 
lixed price the cession of that duchy. 
This was speedily noised abroad, and 
created the most intense excitement in 
Germany, especially in Prussia. There 
was a veritable alarm throughout France 
and Germany. For twenty days it 
seemed as if the year of peace festivals 
might be interrupted by a long and 
l)loody war. To-day it seems impossilile 
that the French Empire sliould not have 
learned, from the manner in which it was 
treated by German^' on that occasion, its 
own weakness, and the poor opinion 
that its antagonists had of it. But so 
much pains bad been taken to prevent 
anything like free discussions in the 
Chambers that the truth did not come to 
the surface, and the public was informed 
by the Minister of rublic Affairs tliat 
the King of Holland, as Grand Duke of 
Luxembourg, and not the Imperial gov- 
ernment of France, had raised the Lux- 
embourg question, and that tlie Duchy 
would not be ceded to France, because 
of conditions which seemed unlikely to 
be fulfilled. As a clever French writer 
has said, the public learned, from the 
reading of debates on the question in 
foreign parliaments, that the French 



nation was not to have a war with Ger- 
many simpl_y because it was not to get 
the Luxembourg Duchy. When this hope 
vanished in smoke Napoleon III. must 
have beeu convinced that he would get 
nothing i^i exchange for his abstention 
from interference with Prussia in carry- 
ing out her elaborate scheme for her 
aggrandizement of united Germany. 

When the Luxembourg excitement had 
died away, and the news of jVIaximil- 
ian's execution at Queretaro had ar- 
rived, the Imperial party did not make 
any new professions of a desire to accord 
liberties to the people. But the round 
of festivities went on. The Exposition 
was like a great international city wiiere 
all that was brightest and most beautiful 
from lifty different countries met daily. 
There were Freuch, and Anglo-Saxon, 
and Dutch, and Viennese, and North 
German, and Spanish, and Danish, and 
Swedish and Russian restaurants, and 
English bars. There were parks filled 
witli imitations of Oriental palaces, 
Chinese pavilions, Turkish bazaars, and, 
in rather incongruous juxtaposition, Ba- 
varian breweries. There were noble 
galleries of the histoi'y of labor ; fine 
collections of works of art ; a gran<l ex- 
hibit of machinery and of materials 
suitable for application to the liberal 
arts ; aud there was a great park divided 
into four quarters, the French and Bel- 
gian, German, English, and Oriental. 
Here were German and Scandinavian 
houses, Russian cabins, and Cossack 
tents, Greek churches and Turkish 
mosques, Indian pagodas and Siamese 
palaces, and Ijuildings filled with models 
of everj'thing from the Roman cata- 
combs to the sanitary collections of 
the American civil war. By night, in 
the soft summer climate of northern 
France, a visit to the Exhiliitiou was 
like a trip to fairy-land. The music of 



;5() KuiiorE i.v sroh'M a.xd ca/.m. 

Strauss ;ui(l (iiiiigl lilk'il llie air. Thoro were anxious tu tiirow off. lie forgot, 

was everything wliieli could cliarrii the amid tlie varied enehantnieuts of Paris, 

eye. and tlie visitor wlio journeyed in eontemplating tlic vast municipal ira- 

lloule^var^l along the silent streets of provemeuts, in reading the aunounce- 

the capital late at night after a i)ronio- ments of the oiteniug of new parks and 

n.ide through the Kx!iil)ition found it gardens, and the schemes for an ini- 

<litlicult to persuade hiuis<'lf that lu! was proved condition of the worliing-class, 

living under a ilespotic government, — he forgot the volcanic shimmer, 
aud one whicli tlie peo|ile of the country 



EUROPE [N STORM AND CALM. 



31 



CHAPTER TWO. 



Tin- Iiupei-ia[ Court at Compie;Tue. — Aa Historic City. — Luxury and Splendor. — Napoleon III. 'a 
I'ciurtship. — The Counlcss of Montijo. — What an Imperial Iluiiting-Party Cost. — Aping the 
First Empire. — The Imperial Family. — Parvenus and Princes. — The Progr-amme of the Season 
at Compiegue. — IIow the Guests were Eeceived. — The Imperi.<il Theatre. — What the People 
Paid for. — Prince Napoleon. — Princess Clotliilde. 



IN this splendid year, Compit^giie, as 
well as Paris, was at the height of 
its iiiagniticence. C'orapit'gue might al- 
most have been called a second French 
capital, for from the earh' daj's of the 
Second Em [lire it had been the favorite 
resort of the adroit and brilliant Empress, 
and it was there that many of the events 
most important in the history' of the Em- 
pire had their origin. The pretty and 
interesting old town, on the borders of 
the noble wood, had for many eentnries 
been a favorite resort for French sov- 
ereigns. The local historians even say 
that it won the affection of Clovi.s ; bnt, 
without going Viack so far as this ancient 
sovereign, we lind in French history- 
plenty of romance, tragedy, and comedj- 
connected with C'ompiegne. The valor 
of the inhabitants of the town decided 
the victory of Bovines, which is one of 
the most glorious in French annals. The 
'•Maiden's Tower," a part of the ruin of 
the Porte du Vieux Pont, commemorates 
the heroic maid of Orleans, who was 
taken near that place, in Compi^gne, on 
the ■24th of iMay, 1430. There is an in- 
scription, scarcely complimentary to the 
English, on this door, and in it occurs 
the famous line so often quoted by French 
editors when they have found the policy 
of France antagonized by England, — 

'' Tons ceu.\-la d'.-Vlbiun ii'ont fait lu bien 
jamais." 



Joan of Arc was taken by an archer 
of I'icardy, disarmed and carried to the 
head-quarters of Magny, where she was 
literally sold at auction. She was at 
last bought by John of Luxemboiu'g, 
who .sold her to the F]nglish for 10,000 
livres (francs) cash, and a [lension of 
300 livres. C'ompiegne is also full of 
memories of La Vallifere, Madame De 
Montespan, and Louis the Well-Beloved, 
who had a nest for his famous Pompa- 
dour in the shades of the [lark. The 
petit rhdteaa, as it was called, where the 
Pompadour lived, was demolished at the 
time of the great revolution. 

Xapoleon I. was very fond of Com- 
pi^gne, and in the freshness of his devo- 
tion to Maria Louisa constructed there 
the famous •' Cradle," copied from that 
of the park at Schoeubrunn. In Louis 
Philippe's day the Court occasionally 
had its seasons of gayety at Compiegne, 
and reviews were held there, at which 
the young princes, who had been so 
prominent in the conquest of Algeria, 
inspected the troops. It is said that 
Louis Philippe used to drive out to the 
reviews in a huge carryall with a four- 
in-hand, which he was very fond of man- 
aging. At his side was the boy who 
is to-da}' the Comte De Paris, and some- 
times the Queen and the yoimg Duchess 
de Montpeusier accompanied him. The 
old King used to drive down the line of 
troops, saluted by cheers. The last of 



82 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



these reviews at Conipiegne was held in 
1847. Xotliinii' was iimre iiieturesque 
than till' iiinltitiide nl" tent>, of booths, 
(iT nieichaiits and nioniitebanlcs, which 
sprang n|) under the hills of the forest, 
on the days preeeding the reviews, and 
to which the Parisians tioeked hy hun- 
dreds cif Ihousands. For a short time 
after the devolution of 1848 the forest 
was opened to the public, and the grocer, 
the biitchi'r, and the eandlestick-niaker, 
popped thcii- liuns at the royal stags and 
the smidding liares, which had hereto- 
fore been i)rey for the guns of the no- 
liilily alone. 

The chase in France has always been 
an aristocratic anmsement. The middle 
class seems to have but small liking for 
it; and as the w(n'kiug-people have nev- 
er been allowed to kee|i weapons of their 
own, they lia\f uaturallv acipiii-cd but 
small skill in shooting. It was but a, 
little time after tlu> ro///) d'Ehit that 
Napoleon III. made his appearance at 
CompiOgne, and began to give hnntinsj;- 
[larties there, which were soon noted 
throughout Kuro|ie for th<'ir magnificence, 
foi- the excellence of the banquets, and 
till' loi'ch-liglit.?iV^^s' eonuecti'd with then',, 
and for the great numbers of lieantifnl 
ladies who were galheicd at tlie newly 
established court. ]Mdlle. Eugenie de 
IMonliJo, who was soon to become the 
Empress of tlie French, had been ^ery 
pioniiuent in llie organization of the fes- 
tivities at the Elysee Palace in Paris, 
and society soon remarked that she was 
the leading spirit at Compiegne. The 
first luuiting-season under the Empire 
bi'ought Jldlle. de Moutijo and her moth- 
er vei'V often before the French iniblic. 
The young lieauty scandalized the chate- 
laines of the neiglil)orhood by galloping 
about with the Em|ieror at all hours of 
the day and evening, but no one imag- 
ined that she was likely to become the 



legitim.'ite h'ader of French society. This 
lady, who played such an important part 
in the career of Najioleon III., was, ac- 
cording to tile Imperialist authorities, de- 
scended from two noble families of .'^pain 
and England. Her father, the Count of 
Montijo. claimed a long descent from 
S|ianis!i nolih'inen, who were celebrated 
in the wars and politics of their native 
land, and among them the Count of 
Teba, who got his nobility at the end of 
the liftecuth century from Ferdinand and 
Isabella, for the bravery which he dis- 
played bet'ore (iranada. The mother of 
JMdlle. de Montijo was a descenduit of 
a Scotch family, driven out of .Scotland 
at the fall of the Stuarts, and was the 
daughter of an English business-man 
named Fitz-Patriek, wlio was long Brit- 
ish Consul in S|Kiin. and wlio seems to 
lia\c laid lint little stress upon an aristo- 
cratic lineage. 

The Countess of Montijo and her 
(hiiigliter were well known in London, 
Madrid, .'lud Ilerlin, where they made 
long sojourns before they appeared ia 
France, wlii're their favorite residence 
was Fontaineblcau. The lieauty of the 
daughter was so i-emarkable that in 
l.S.'il) and is.'il she was the observed of 
all observers at i\w frtes of the Elys6e. 
At Compi6gne she conducted herself 
with great prudence in the midst of a 
corrupt Court, where she was sur- 
rounded with all kinds of jealous)' and 
envy ; and, when the Emperor came to 
declare his passion, she referred him 
with mucli dignity and sweetness to her 
mother, who she feared would never 
consent to the union because of the ex- 
alted station of the suitor, and because 
she felt that he ought to make a more 
brilliant alliance with some one of the 
noble families of Europe. The gossips, 
since the fall of the Empire, say that the 
Emperor's declaration was brought ou 



EVROPK IX STORM AXD CALM. 



33 



bv a somewhat coniioal incident. They 
relate that returning from the chase one 
evening with Mdlle. de Montijo, the Em- 
peror ventured to present himself at the 
door of her private room and to linger 
there for a moment ; whereupon ho was 
driven out without ceremony, and, the 
storj- adds, with one or two vigorous 
blows from a ridiug-whip. This, it was 
said, confirmed his already decided 
o|)inion as to the unimpeachable virtue 
of the young countess ; and it was not 
lous; before lie talked of marriage. lie 
wrote a letter to the mother of tlie 
adored one, and the good lady, after 
having shown this precious document to 
all her intimate friends, allowed herself 
to be convinced, and the engagement 
was soon announced to the company 
gnthered at Compi^gne. 

There was a great ()Ut|i(jnring of 
scandal as soon as this announcement 
was made. The elder Countess of 
Montijo had the dissatisfaction of see- 
ing her past reviewed without mercy, 
and tiie Legitimists and other factions of 
the monarchical opposition to the new 
Emperor gave full vent to their spleen 
and their satire. The Prince Napoleon 
was naturally very angry, as it jiut an 
end to the hopes that he had begun to 
cherish of being the legitimate succes- 
sor of Napoleon III. Everywhere the 
coming marriage was alhided to as 
ecceutiic ; and so wise and careful a 
man as M. Thiers even ventured to have 
his little joke at the Emperor's expense. 
He said : " The Emperor has always 
seemed to me to be a clever man. To- 
day I see that he has plenty of fore- 
sight, for by his marriage he is prol)ably 
reserving for himself the rank of a Span- 
ish Grandee." This little pleasantry 
contained a delicate allusion to the inse- 
curity of the Emperor's position. 

But Napoleon cared little for these 



cynical remarks. He had some sup- 
porters like M. Dupiu, who said boldly 
that the Emperor had done perfectly 
light in engaging himself to marry a 
[lerson who pleased him, and not allow- 
ing himself to be snatched up by some 
German princess with huge feet. When 
Napoleon IH. got his council of ministers 
together and announced his projected 
marriage there were numerous objec- 
tions, politely but firmly made. Tiie 
Emi)cror met them all in tiie most per- 
emptory' fashion, saying, "There are no 
objections to be made, gentlemen, and 
no discussion is to be liegun on this 
matter. The marriage is decided upon, 
and I am decided to carry it out." There 
was a ripple of laughter in the European 
Courts when the Emperor said, in his 
speech at the Tuileries, in 1853, that the 
union he was about to contract was not 
exactly in accordance with the con- 
ditions of tlie old traditional policy, but 
that that was its special advantage. 
" P'rance," he said, '• had l)y its succes- 
sive revolutions seiiarated itself from the 
rest of Europe. A sensible government 
ought to try to get it back into the circle 
of the old monarchies ; but that result, 
according to him, would be more certainly 
brought about by a frank and straightfor- 
ward policy, by loyalty in transactions, 
than by royal alliances, which created a 
false sense of security, and sulistituted 
family for national interests." 

This sounded very brave, and there 
was a little swagger iu the following 
phrase, which forced even Napoleon's 
enemies to admit that he at least had 
the courage of his opinions: "When, 
standing in full view of ancient Europe, 
one is brouglit by the force of a new 
princi|)le uj) to the height of the ancient 
dynasties, it is not by trying to give 
additional age to one's coat of arms, 
or by seeking by enterprise to get into 



34 



EUROPE AV STORM AND CALM. 



a family of kings, that one makes bis 
position tliere. It is rather in always 
reniemljeriiig one's origin, in preserving 
one's own cliaracter, and iu taking 
frankly with regard to Europe the posi- 
tion of a parvenu, whieh is a glorious 
title when one arrives at power by the 
free suffrage of a great people." 

After the nuptial ceremony, vrhich took 
place -with great pomp at the Cathedral 
of N6tre Dame iu Paris, the Emperor 
offered to the Duchess de Viceuce and 
the Duchess de Lesparre the highest 
places ill the household of the Empress ; 
but both these ladies refused to accept 
the honors. This was oul_y one of man^- 
tnortifieations which the Imperial couple 
had to suffer for some mouths after their 
union. The Duke de Bassano, who was 
destined to Ijc the Emperor's Court cham- 
berlain, at first said that he would take 
good care that his family had no ofllce 
under the Empire. But he was prevailed 
upon, and the Duchess de Bassano soon 
took high position among the ladies of 
the Empress's suite. After a time the 
Emperor rallied round him some of the 
members of the old aristocracy. It was 
not difficult for him to do this, for he 
had the power of making senators, and 
of according to the members of the 
Senate sums of 15,000, 20,000, or 
30,000 francs, as be jjleased. Dukes, 
princes, counts, and marquises flocked 
around the " Imperial parceiiii," and 
naturally brought their wives and daugh- 
ters both to the Tuileries and to Com- 
piegue. The Comte de Chambord felt 
it bis duty to address, from bis post of 
exile, a letter to the Legitimist party, 
iu which he administered a severe rebuke 
to those of his quondam adherents who 
had allowed themselves to be seduced 
by the brilliant promises of the Empire. 
But this letter did no good, for the sim- 
ple reason that the newspapers were 



ordered not to reproduce it, and so the 
public remained in ignorance of the 
Comte de Chambord's protest. 

The Empress seemed to have for her 
chief aim the reestablishmeut of the 
rules of precedence and tlie Court cos- 
tumes which had prevailed in the reigu 
of Marie Antoinette at Versailles. It is 
even told of her that the Emperor and 
some of bis more serious followers bad a 
severe struggle with her on the occasion 
of a grand fancy ball, which was given 
at the Tuileries, to prevent her from 
appearing as a resuscitated Marie An- 
toinette. She flattered herself that she 
resembled that unfortunate sovereign, 
and was never weary of talking of her. 

Witliout any desire at this late day to 
criticise the society of Coiupi^gne or the 
Empire, it is didienlt to overlook the 
fact that the C()m[)any was decidedly 
mixed. A recent writer says ou this 
subject: '' At the advent of the Empire 
all the noted parlors were closed, and 
politics, as in our day, sowed discord 
and disunion everywhere, so that good 
society, whether per force or of its 
choice, yielded place to a new monde, or 
a kind of international (Icmi-monde, 
which had flocked together from the 
four corners of pjurope to be merry at 
the Imperial Court. The new society, 
boru of tlie Empire, was indeed most 
strange. In it were found marchion- 
esses, who were jourualists ; Italian 
princesses, who had been singers at 
Alcazars; and, from all countries, great 
ladies with regard to whose marriages 
there was something irregular." 

It was the fashion at the close of the 
Empire to say that the Empress was 
responsible for a great part of the social 
demoralization ; but this was unjust. 
She made vigorous efforts at times to 
purge the Court of the disreputable 
personages who bung upon its out- 



EUROPE ly STORM AND CALM. 



35 



skirts, and she was now and then suc- 
cessful. 

The French nation discovered shortly 




after the opening of the first season at 
CompiSgne that an Empire was a costly 
luxury. It would be difflcult for Repub- 
licans to understand the alisolute 
liberty which the Emperor had 
of bestowing money upon his 
favorites, and the license with 
which he lavished the national 
funds upon the amusements of 
the Court. Marshal Magnan, 
who had taken a vigorous part in 
the cotip d'Etat, was made grand 
reiK'ur, or the Imperial Master of 
the Hounds, with an annual salary 
of 100,000 francs. This was more 
money than Louis XIV. gave to 
IJohan for tile same service. Na- 




TUE FKENCH EMPEROK AND EMPRESS AT COMPIEONE. 



36 



KCliOl'b: IX STORM AXD CALM. 



polcon treuU'd liis fiivoritt-s willi yrcat 
lilnTalily, and tliis Marslial Mayjnan. be- 
sides lii.s oll'iec at t'oiupiegiie, had 40,000 
francs as geiiei-al-in-chii-f of the army of 
I'aris ; 40,000 fraiies as a marshal of 
France ; 30,000 francs as senator ; and 
C,000 francs as the iierqnisites of his 
position in the Ijcgiou of Honor. C'onnt 
Edgar Ncv, wlio was also a grand ollicer 
in the Imperial chase, received 40,000 
francs yearly, and aristocratic gentle- 
men whose only labors during the year 
consisted in keeping the packs of hounds 
well furnished, in buying horses iu 
England or in Hungary, were i)aid 
20,000, 1.^,000, or 12,00(1 francs. 
Nearly all these gentlemen were also 
odicors in tlie army, and received sala- 
ries of from 12,000 to 4(»,0()0 francs for 
military service. Napoleon gave them 
horses and carriages, free lodgings in all 
the Imperial palaces, ami. in fact, so 
heaped iionors and splendors upon them 
that they would have been l)ase ingrates 
if they had not fully espoused his cause. 
The officers of sport were supi>osed to 
])ass three months of the year at Kaui- 
bouillet, three months at St. (lermain, 
three months at Fontainebleau, and 
three months at Comj)ii>gne, in wliich 
place they were entitled to lodgings in 
tlie crown liuildings. to firing, lighting, 
wasiiing, etc. Tlie ijraitil rciicur even 
had a mansion specially rented for him 
in Paris, and the exi>ense of this was 
paid liy the i)eople. 

The Emiiress spent long mornings in 
designing and adijpting costumi'S for the 
chase. Bottle-green had l)een the livery 
adopted by the Imperial Court of Napo- 
leon I. ; and so botlle-green was adopted 
by the Imperial Court of Napoleon III. 
But there wore among otliors magnificent 
costumes rii'li with red velvet striped 
with gold. Everything was regulated iu 
the most careful uiauner. Tlie Emperor 



and Em[)ress wore white feathers iu tlieir 
hats, and no one else at Court was al- 
lowed to do so. A speci.al kind of hunt- 
ingdiat was specified for certain days, 
and no fre(iiie]iter of the Court would 
have dared in tlie smallest detail to vent- 
uie upon originality, as lie or she would 
have immediately incurred the Empress's 
displeasure. It was considered a great 
favor to be .'uithori/.ed to wear a hunting- 
costume without being a member of the 
hunt or of the Emperor's houseliold. The 
chief ollicers of tlie crown, tlie Coui't 
chamberlain, the master of horse, the 
grand master of ceremonies, the prefects 
of the police, the sjiecial grooms of the 
Emperor and Empress, and the ladies 
of the jialace and the ladies of the cliief 
dignitaries, were all enrolled in this mas- 
culine and feminine hunting-regiment ; 
and he or she who was not a. good rider 
had but little chance at Court. All this 
people, in the midst of their sports and 
fantastic i)r(jmenades in the leafy ave- 
nues of tli(^ forest, alniust forgot that 
there was such a city as Paris or a great 
nation of thirty-seven or tliii't_y-eiglit 
millions of striving and sutieriug work- 
ers. The Emperor had taken possession 
of Prance as his particular prize, and 
cared as little for the will of the people 
as for the direction of the wind. 

But, although he cherished a supreme 
disdain for the public will and for i)ublic 
criticism, he was e."vtreinely attentive to 
the remarks of foreign Courts, and con- 
stantly made endeavors to attract to 
Compii^gne some representatives of Eu- 
ropean royalty and aristocracy. The 
King of Holland, who was a great ad- 
mirer of the Empress, was one of the 
first sovereigns to come to Compii^gne, 
and great was the rejoicing when he ap- 
peared. Afterwards there were numer- 
ous important visits of sovereigns ; and 
among the most noted were those of Vic- 



EUROPE hV STORM AXD CALM. 



■ >l 



t(ir Enwnuel of It.l^', tlic Einperor of 
Austria, the Emperor of Russia, tlie King 
of Prussia, ami Prince Bismarck in If^fiT, 
and the King of Portugal. 

It was perhaps at the close of the 
Crimean war that tlie Conipi(>gnes, as 
they were called, were most brilliant. 
Enormous sums of money were spent at 
that time upon the hunting-parties, and 
Lord Stratford Canning, Lord I'almer- 
ston, and other noted Englishmen, were 
quite dazzled, although accustomed to 
luxury at home, bj' the Imperial displays. 
It is said tliat when Lord Palmerston 
visited Compiegne, the daily expenses at 
the Court were 45,000 francs. The Prin- 
cess de Metternich, the interesting and 
original wife of the Austrian ambassador, 
was intimatelj' associated with all thcfi'tes 
and shows of the Imperial Court. She, 
like the Empress, was foreign to French 
manners ; but she had what the French 
call the (liable an co>y.s, and she was im- 
mensely popular among the jeunesse 
doree, who moved in the upper circles of 
society. Although the conduct of the 
Empress was never for an instant criti- 
cised during her whole reign, she was 
frequently called upon to witness terri- 
ble scandals at Court. 

Corapi^gne was the fashion. The 
Emperor and Empress arrived there on 
All-Saints-day and left on the evening 
before the opening of the Chambers in 
Paris. When the Court arrived, a bat- 
talion of infantry of the guards came 
also, and there was music in the clear- 
ings in the forest, and all tlie villas in 
the neighborhood were filled with rich 
foreigners. On the day of the Empe- 
ror's arrival no one dined at the palace 
with him except the officers of his house- 
hold, who were, as the phrase went, 
" on duty," and the ladies who belonged 
to the train of the Empress. The nuder- 
prefect, the mayor, and all the odicers 



of the garrison, went out to meet the 
Emperor when he arrived at the railway 
station ; and the inspectors of forests, 
the game-keepers, and the hundi'ed 
smaller oflScials, came to [)aj' their re- 
spects in the evening. 

On the next day the guests began to 
arrive. It was the custom of the Court 
to have five series of invited guests, 
numbering about ninety in each series. 
Persons of distinction in literature, or 
science, or politics, ou receiving an 
invitation to C<jmpii^gne, understood 
that they were invited for four days, 
without counting the day of arrival or 
that of departure. The special honor 
was to be invited on the loth of No- 
vember, because that was St. Eugenie's- 
day, and the Emiiress's JVte. On that 
occasion there was a comedy given by 
amateurs, followed by a grand ball, at 
which all the Court society, and every- 
body, of course, brought costly olt'erings 
of flowers. The principal functionaries 
of the town and the department, with 
their families, were invited to dinner, 
and the officers of the garrison came in 
a group to offer the Ennjress a magnifi- 
cent bouquet. 

The Imperial family was quite numer- 
ous, and when the Emperor arrived at 
Compiegne a goodly number of the 
members of his family came with him. 
There was the young and prett}' Princess 
Anna Murat ; her brother Prince Joa- 
chim ; the Princess JMatliilde, who had at 
first pouted when she had heard of the 
marriage, but who finally grew reconciled 
to it and was later on a very affectionate 
friend of the Empress ; and the little 
Prince Imperial. King Jerome and the 
prince, his son, came rnrely to Com- 
l)ipgne. They could not endure the 
Empress, who liked them not, and who 
did not conceal her dislike, and who, 
after the rather dubious exploits of Prince 



38 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



Najioloon in the Crimea, made so inueh 
fun oi liini that he cherislied a mortal 
hatred for her. The I^mperor was peri- 
odically besieged b}' needy members of 
his family, — needy because of their ex- 
aggerated wants ; and many a good story 
is told of the manner in which he evaded 
undue exactions on tlii' part of his rela- 
tives. On one occasion I'rince Napo- 
leon asked for such an enormous sum 
that the Emperor refused it point-blanlv, 
saying tliat as he had already given him 
a capital of 2.300,000 francs a year he 
coulcl do notiiing more for him. Tiie 
Prince grew furious, and indulged in 
some very strong language, finishing by 
the remark, " There is nothing of the 
Eiui)eror about you." — '• Oh, yes, there 
is," answered Napoleon 111. witliout 
moving a muscle of his countenance ; 
" tlicre is his family." Tliis story got 
abroad, and was the delight of Paris for 
many days. 

Prince Napoleon was long deeply at- 
tached to Rachel, the noted actress. 
Their intimacy was quite public, as tlie 
Prince made no mystery of any of his 
liaisons. In 1853 a certain prince, who 
very likely was not friendly to the Em- 
press, sent one of his carriages, wliicli 
was exactly like those used by the Im- 
perial pair, to Rachel, that she miglit go 
to Lougchamps in it. She accepted this 
delicate attention, and the pulilic, recog- 
nizing the Imperial livery, took Rachel 
for the Empress and hailed her with 
cheers and obsequious bows. "When she 
got home the actress said, "It is ven/ 
disagreeable to be taken forthe Empress." 
This pleased Prince Napoleon so much 
that he conld not help repeating it as 
some slight revenge for tlie n.iany occa- 
sions upon which the Empress hail ren- 
dered him ridiculous. 

After this little incident a decree was 
published, announcing that the Grand 



Marshal (if the palace alone had the rigiit 
to }iut his servants in the Imjierial livery. 
The public called this the " Rachel 
Decree." All the ceremonies of the Im- 
jierial Court wei-e I'egulated in the most 
punctilious fashion. Yet a certain free- 
dom of manner always betrayed the fact 
that the Emperor and Elmpress had led 
adventurous lives and had not been accus- 
tomed to the atmosphere of courts, dur- 
ing the early part of their careers. "When 
the beautiful and accomplished Princess 
Clothilde came, as tlie wife of Prince 
Napoleon, to Compiegne, tiie Empress 
P^ugenie undertook to give her somesliglit 
advice as to her dress and manners. But 
the Princess quietly i-emarked, "You 
forget, Jladiim, tiiat I was bori( at Court," 
which caused a coolness between the 
ladies for some time. 

The amusements otlered the guests in- 
vited to Compiegne were invariably the 
same. On the day of the ai'rival there 
was a grand dinner, a charade, little 
games, and a " hop." Tlie next day, 
after breakfast, there was hunting either 
in the reserve park or in the pheasantry. 
The Empei'or was very fond of sjiooting- 
matciies, to which only ten or twelve 
guests were admitted to the honor of 
partaking tliis pleasure witli him. These 
must be either sovereigns or foreign 
princes staying at tlie palace, princes of 
the blood, amliassadors, marshals of 
France, and the ministers, and two or 
tlu'ee otlicers of tlie chase. Tlie guests 
who were of small consequence went 
hunting in the forest under tlie guidance 
of a general guard, or shot at birds with 
the ladies on the lawn. The Empress 
was very fond of archery, and had a fas- 
cinating train of beauties who could draw 
tlie bow witli skill. In the evening after 
tiie grand liunting-iuatch there was usu- 
ally a play in the palace theatre. The 
companies of the subsidized theatres of 



EUROPT: IX STORM AND CALM. 



39 



Paris were expected to perform at least 
once duriug the season at CompiC'gnc be- 
fore the Emperor and Empress. It is a 
striking commentary on tlie taste of the 
Imperial Court that the Palais Royal 
Company was the most popular of all. 
Neither the Emperor nor the Empress were 
fond of music. The theatrical represen- 
tations cost from 20,000 to 40,000 francs 
each. The artists of the Th6Atre Franfais 
were the onl3' ones who were allowed to 
go and salute the Emperor and Empress 
and indulge in a few moments' conversa- 
tion with them after the plaj'. 

The luxury of the Imperial theatre 
was quite remarkable. The Imperial 
box contained one hundred and fifty 
seats, and on each side of it was a gal- 
lery, so called, in which the most beau- 
tiful women of the Court took their 
places. At nine o'clock precisely, on 
the evening of the play, the chief 
chamberlain came into the logs in 
Court costume, with rapier at side, 
and announced in a loud voice, "The 
Emperor!" Then every one arose. 
The Emperor and Empress came in, 
bowing to right and left, and sat down 
in their great gilded chairs, with a little 
army of chamberlains and domestics 
behind them. On a gala night this 
theatre furnished a complete epitome of 
society under the Empire. There might 
be seen In sumptuous tmlettes the Count- 



ess de Persigny, tlie Countess Walewska, 
the beautiful Countess Le Hon, the young 
Duchess de Jlorny, tlic Duchess de 
Bassano, and Madame Drouyn de Lhuys, 
Madame de Sauley, and the Marchioness 
Aguado ; then, in the second rank, the 
joyous ladies who were the especial fa- 
vorites of the Empress, — the Countess 
de Pourtali^s, the Marchionesses de Gal- 
liffet, de Cadore, de Villa Marina, and 
a host of lieautiful foreign ladies, Amer- 
ican, Italian, Spanish, German, and 
English. 

On these occasions the toUctte di> hal 
was rigorously exacted from all the 
ladies. No Duchess of sixty was ex- 
empted by the Empress from the rigid 
rule which required her to bare her 
shoulders. It is said that one day the 
Empress's careful gaze detected au old 
lady who had violated the rule, and who 
had hidden herself as well as she could 
in the last row of seats in the loges. 
The chamberlain was immediately sent 
to order the lady at once to leave the 
hall. 

On certain occasions the Court was 
invited to some aristocratic rhCdeau in 
the neighborhood. Duriug the day 
there was a hunting expedition, the cere- 
mony of the cin-i'e, or the feeding of 
the hounds by torch-light in the court- 
yard ; and afterwards, in the parlors, a 
Sjreat ball. 



40 



EUROrt: IN STORM AND CALil. 



CHAPTER THREE. 

What was tho Scroud Empire.' — How was it Created? — Tlio Perjury of the Prince President. — Tlic 
Pleliiscite. — Tlie Massacres of Deneinbcr. — General Cliau^arnier and liis Fidelity to his Coun- 
try. — Tlie Protest of the Deputies. — Struggle of the Citizens. — The Reign of Terror. — Tho 
Imperial E.agle. — ,\. Period of Absolute Repression. 



WE have seen the Second Empire at 
the height of its gloiy, its ci'eator 
and master siiri-oiinded by brilliant pag- 
eants, visited by neighboring monarehs, 
entertaining the nations at a grand fes- 
tival of peace and indnstry, and inaugn- 
rating in tlie same year a democratic and 
liberal policy. To the casual observer 
this might iiave .seemed a fitting eulini- 
nation to a just and honorable career. 
But, while everything on the surface was 
fair to see, it was impossible to deny the 
presence of internal c(jnviilsions, which 
seemed likely to bring speedy disrup- 
tion and ruin upon the Imperi.al parly, 
if not upon the nation which it governed. 
What was the cause of t!ie powerful 
opposition ti> the Empire wliieh had 
grown up since 18G.'j? Why was it that 
the leading liberals of tho country, who 
were naturally anxious at all cost to 
maintain public order and to prevent tho 
advent to power of tho aggressive Social- 
ists and Communists, — why was it that 
they did not rally to the support of this 
Empire, which professed its willingness 
to give the eonntry amiile liberty, just as 
fast as it could denionstrato its fitness to 
possess it? A sufficient answer to these 
questions may W- found in a Tirief recital 
of the origin of the Second Empiro ; and 
this resume of one of the most remarka- 
ble politieal events of modern times is 
necessary to a eomi)lete understanding 
of the dramatic series of disasters which 



belrll France tiofore the foinidatiou of 
the Third Republic. 

Tlie story has been told in a hundred 
ways : with picturesque and poetic vi- 
vacity by Victor Hugo and Kinglake ; 
with force and sincerity by Taxile De- 
lord ; and with the uni)itying and Ihiwless 
clearness of a judge summing up the 
career of one on trial before him, by 
Jules Simon. 

The majority of those who voted for 
Prince Louis Xapoleon Ii<inaiiarle as 
President of the French Republic, on 
the Kith of December, 1.S48, doulitless 
expected that, in the course of his polit- 
ieal career, he would undertake a coiqi 
d'etat. As .Tules Simon very neatly 
[>uts it, " A nation does not give a Re- 
public into the hands of a prinee when 
it wishi'S to save a Repulilie." But 
shortly after his election, the President, 
in oliedienee to the cimslitutiou, which 
had abolished the politieal oath for ail 
functidiuuies except for tlie chief magis- 
trate of the nation, toolc, before the 
national representatives in tlie Assem- 
bly, the following oath : — 

" In the presence of Clod, and before 
the French people represented by the 
National Assembly, I swear to remain 
faithful to the Rcjuil)lic, deiiioeratie, 
v,iic rt iiiilirisiJilc, and to fulfil nil the 
duties which the constitutii)n iin[)oses 
upon me." 

This wt'.s eertaiulv a form;il engage- 



EUROl'E IN STORM AND CALM. 



41 



inont. from which (hero was no hoiiora- 
lilc retreat, aud the President of the 
Assembly solemnlj' called upon God aud 
ninu to witness the oath which the Prince 
had just taken. From that time for- 
v.r.rd the French Republic rested eutiroly 
ni>on the good faith of Prince Louis 
Napoleon, who had from his earliest 
childhood announced publicly to his 
friends and acquaintances that he would 
one day be P^mperor of France, and who 
had twice hir.iself tried, by force of arms, 
to gain power in the country to which he 
felt himself called by fate. 1 do not 
say called by Providence, for Providence 
entered but little into the calculations of 
the late Emperor of the French. He 
was a pure fatalist ; far more so even 
than the first Xapolcou, aud showed 
ample proof of this in the manner in 
which he submitted, without even a dem- 
onstration of heroism, to his misfortune 
at Sedan. He felt, in short, that the 
" game was up," that the stars were no 
longer kindly ; and he was too strong to 
complain, too much of a fatalist to 
make an}' endeavor to change circum- 
stances. 

Louis Napoleon lost no time in con- 
firming the assurances which he had given 
in his oath. On the 20th of December, 
1848, he said that the suffrages of the 
nation and the oath that he had taken 
commanded his future conduct aud 
traced his pul)lir duty, so that he could 
not mistake it. "I shall regard," he 
said, " as enemies of the country all 
those who try by illegal means to change 
the form of government which you have 
established." He had previously said 
(just before his election) that if elected 
President he should devote himself en- 
tirely, without an}- sort of reserve, to the 
establishment of the Uepublic. " I will 
pledge my honor," be said, " to leave 
at the end of four years to my succes- 



sor i)ower strengthened, liberty intact, 
and real progress accomplished." 

M. Jules Simon tells us that on tiie 
12th of August, 1850, the President of 
the Republic said to the mayor of Lyons, 
" You may possibly have heard some 
remarks about a coup d'Etnt. You did 
not believe them, and I thank you for 
this i)roof of confidence." At a great 
dinner, given in his honor at Strasbourg, 
he alluded to the rumors of a possible 
attack upon the Republic, and repudi- 
ated them with scorn. '•! know noth- 
ing but my duty," he said. A year after- 
wards, in November of 1851, he still 
professed an unalterable devotion to the 
Rei)ublic. The President of the Council 
said of him to one of his colleagues, 
'• He is the most honest man in the 
Re|)nblic. Pie will never betrav his 
oath ; I am sure of it." 

P^or more than three years, therefore, 
I'riuce Louis Napoleon Bonaparte an- 
nounced repeatedly, and on [inblic aud 
private occasions, tliat he was faithful 
to the Republic, and that lie would con- 
sider as a great criminal any one who 
should become a traitor to that form of 
government, so recently established in 
France. But there seems little doubt 
that as early as 1850 he had definitely 
resolved to betray bis trust. From that 
time forward he began to have uses for 
large sums of money, which his expen- 
ditures merely as Picsident of the Re- 
public did not seem to justify. He 
received as salary 1,200,000 francs from 
the nation, rml perquisites; but he man- 
aged to get his a[)propriation increased 
to 1,490,000 francs the first year, and 
to 0,410,000 the second year. lu every 
place of importance to wdiich he could 
appoint a functionary he put a man who 
was devoted, not to the State or to the 
Republic, but to hinistlf. Never were 
there so many men of small or no scru- 



42 



EUROPE IX SrOEM AXP CALM. 



l)les i)lac('(l ill ministerial and otlicr 
positions of trust and honor. 

In 1850 he Itegan to copy in many 
ways tlie fashions of the First Empire, 
and to tallv everywliere of tlie Napoleonic 
Legend, which had already been so use- 
ful to him. In Jamuiry of 1849, and at 
the end of 18.J0, there were mysterious 
movements of troops, which were 
thouijht hv the lve]iul)licans to indicate 
attempts at a coup iTEtat. But nothing 
came of either of them. A good story 
is tcjid of the clever manner in which 
old General Changarnier managed to 
prevent the Imperialist manifesto in 
1850. A great review of troops had 
been held on the heights of Satory near 
Versailles. At this review the troojis, 
who had been thoroughly interested in 
the Imperial cause, cried boldly, ''T'/re 
VEiiipcrcHr !" Troo})S had been massed 
around the Gare St. Lazare iu Paris, 
and it was intended that the Prince 
President, when he arrived from tlie 
review, should place himself at the head 
of tliese troops, march to the Tnileries, 
and tliere proclaim his Dictatorship. 
But those who had thus plotted had not 
taken into account the cleverness of 
General Chaugarnier, who had discov- 
ered this plot, and wlio cliecked it by a 
movement of supremo coolness and goo<l 
sense. The Prince President arrived at 
the railway station with his proclamation 
in his pocket, and surrounded by his 
counsellors and by the ringleaders of the 
conspiracy. He was moving to his car- 
riage when General C'hangarnier stepped 
up, complimented him upon the success 
of the review, ceremoniously conducted 
him to tlie carriage, shut the door of it 
with his own hands, and said to the 
coachman, "Drive to the Elysee." Na- 
poleon was not devoid of esprit. lie 
saw by something in Changarnior's de- 
meanor that his plan had been discov- 



ered. He took care not to countermand 
the orders given to the coachman. 

Old General C'hangarnier was incor- 
ruiitible to the last. lie used to say 
that Napoleon had frequently offered to 
him, not only the dignity of marslial, 
but various other important positions, if 
the general would consent to enlist him- 
self in the ranks of the conspirators. 
"When it was found tiiat Changarnier 
Could not be corrupted, he was attacked 
on all sides ])y the party in power. 
Finally he was removed from his post 
as Commander of the Army and the 
National Guard. On that day Monsieur 
Thiers, who was wiser than most of the 
men of his time, said in the legislative 
assembly, "The Empire is established." 

In 18,jl Napoleon and his men moved 
rapidly forward to the conclusion of 
their enterprise. The law of the .3 1st of 
May, which suppressed three millions 
of voters, and to establish which the 
Prince President had himself heljied, was 
now used bj" him to increase his [lopu- 
larity at the expense of that of the 
National Assembly. Indeed, Napoleon 
placed himself with great dexterity iu 
this secure i)Osition, that he might say 
to the French people that if he over- 
turned the Assembh' it was to save 
universal suffrage. The first step tow- 
ards absolute power was thus made by 
causing a conflict of authority between 
the Prince President and the n>presenta- 
tives of the people iu the National As- 
sembly. Then the Assembly proposed 
what was known as the lol f/cs qiiesteiirs., 
which gave the right to the oHicers of 
the Assembly to demand forces necessary 
to secure the legislative body against 
armed interference. This was a sign of 
weakness, of which the Imperial faction 
speedily took advantage. While matur- 
ing their plan, the Imperialists had natu- 
rally bestowed great attention upon the 



EUROPE IX fiTOinr AND CALM. 



43 



nrmy. As JI. Jules Siuion sa_ys, ''The 
generals were mere creatures of llio Im- 
perialist conspirators." Those honest 
and courageous soldiers, who, like Lamo- 
riciere, could not be counted upon to 
betraj' the country's cause, were already 
placed on a black list, and marked for 
arrest and seclusion whenever the blow 
should be struck. It is said that a 
great part of the patrimony of Napoleon 
was given away, in small and large sums, 
to people in the military' service whom 
he wished to corrupt. He even bor- 
rowed large sums for the same use 
both before and after his election as 
President. 

On the 1st of December, 1851, there 
was the usual evening reception at the 
Palace of the Elys6e. Various accounts 
of the events which occui'red on this even- 
ing have been printed. Perhaps none 
are more correct than those of M. Maxime 
Ducampand M. Jules Simon. The Prince 
President remained in the parlors talking 
with the members of the diplomatic cor] is 
and distinguished visitors on all sorts of 
trivial matters, and making numerous 
engagements for the following day. No 
one saw in his face, or detected in his 
words, any signs of preoccupation. 
About ten o'clock, on this evening, the 
President made a sign to a colonel who 
had been named by the conspirr.tors that 
verj- evening the chief of staff of the 
National Guard. " Colonel," said he, 
smiling, "are you master enough of 
your face not to let any great emotion ap- 
pear upon it? " — "I fancy so. Prince," 
replied the newly-promoted colonel. 
"Very well, then, it is for to-night," 
replied the President, in a low voice. 
" You do not start? Verj' well ; we are 
all right ! Can you give me your word 
that, to-morrow, the rappel will not be 
sounded anywhere, and that no assem- 
bly of the National Guard will take 



place ? " The colonel proceeded to say 
that he could and would carry out any 
order of that nature. The fact is, that 
when he left the Elys(5e that night he 
had the skins taken off from all the drum- 
heads, which was a very effective manner 
of preventing the drummers from making 
a noise on the fatal day. The Prince 
President conversed a few moments 
longer with the colonel, then said, "Go 
to the Minister of '^Var ; but do not leave 
at once, or it will be thought I have given 
you an order." Then, taking the arm 
of the Spanish Ambassador, who came 
up at that moment, the Prince returned 
to his guests. 

On the same day, but earlier in the 
evening, the Prince President, in con- 
versation with the Mayor of Nantes, 
said to him, speaking of rumors of con- 
spirac}' which had been recently circu- 
lated, " You, at least, M. Favre, do 
not believe this story; is it not so? You 
know that I am an honest man." The 
]\Iayor of Nantes must have smiled 
shortly afterwards, when he saw the 
work which the honest man had done. 

The next morning the French people, 
and the world outside, learned that the 
co\(p cVEtat had come at last. M.Thiers, 
the Generals Cavaignac, Lamoricitire, 
Bedeau, Chaugarnier, and other dis- 
tinguished officers, had been dragged 
from their beds and carried off to the 
prison of JIazas. 

All the streets surrounding the Elysde 
and the Palais Bourbon, where the Na- 
tional Assembly held its sessions, were 
lilocked up with troops. The otHcers 
commanding the few soldiers who were 
guarding the Legislative Palace were 
disarmed, and many of the officials of 
the Assembly were arrested. When the 
colonel charged with the duty of tak- 
ing the Legislative Palace entered that 
building he first went to the command- 



4t 



EVRori-: IX sTdinr axd ca^.u. 



ant. Thoi'O he found tin' lii'Uten;int- 
foloncl, who, startled liy the unusual 
noise in the night, was just putting on 
his chitiies. The colonel seized a sword 
whieh was lying upon the chair ; where- 
upon the I»epul)lican oflieer advanced, 
pale with rage, and s:d(l, "You do well 
to take it, for a moment later I would 
have run you through the body with it." 
This was, however, the only sign of re- 
sistance then made. "When the morning 
of the 2d of December dawned nearly 
all the Liber,al and Republican deiiuties 
of the country had been locked up in 
prison. Public buildings and offices 
were taken i)ossession of by the con- 
spirators, and the hostile newspapers 
were snppressed, and a proclamation 
posted on the walls announced, "in Ihc 
name of tlie French people and by ile- 
cree of the President of the Republic," 
the dissolution of the National Assem- 
bly, and the reestablishmont of univer- 
sal suffrage. New elections were do- 
creed. A state of siege was estal)Iislied 
in what was called the first militai'y 
division. The Council of State was 
dissolved. This was revolution indeed. 

The lu-oclamation of the Prince Presi- 
dent to the French nation was headed 
by the words, " Appeal to the Peo[ile," 
which has ever since that time been the 
watchword of the Bonapartist party. 

That everything was carried out on 
this memorable night with such precision 
and complete order is the best proof 
tliat the coup d'Etrit was prepared a long 
time in advance. It is even sai<l that 
the Prince President had long had near 
him in a sealed package these proclama- 
tions ; and that on the jiacKage was 
written the word " Rubicon ;" from which 
we may infer that he compared his forth- 
coming adventurous euteri)rise to the 
crossing of the Knbicon by Ciesar. 

The resistance to this astoundingly 



audacious act was |)rompt, but feeble. 
A few deputies and politicians got to- 
gether hastily and signed a protest, de- 
claring that tlie Prince President by his 
act, in virtue of an article in the Consti- 
tution, had forfeited his position ; and in 
this same document the convening of the 
High Court of .Tustice was sug<j;ested. 
This document was signed bv manv of 
the most distinguished and eloquent men 
in France. Victor Hugo, who afterwartl 
became so prominent and powerful an 
enemy of the Imperialist cause, then 
drew up an api)eai to ai'uis, which was 
hastily struck off in the neighboring 
pi-inting-offices, and scattered through 
the crowd. Fin.nlly a few deputies got 
togeflier in the Palais Bourbon, the Im- 
perialist soldiers, meantime, having 
closed most of the doors and locked 
them, and left the buihling. But no 
sooner had tlie forty or fifty ilciiuties, 
who liad got in through a back door, 
begun their si'ssi(.in, than a new body 
of soldiers arrived and drove them out. 
The deputies, and about one hundred 
and sixty or one hundred and seventy 
others then took refuge in one of the 
municipal buildings in the tenth ward, 
and there unanimously voted the decree 
which was drawn up by the groat Ber. 
i-yer, and which proclaimed the downfall 
of Bonaparte. 

But all this was of no avail. Troo[>s, 
l)oliee commissioners, and other authori- 
ties, once more dis|)ersed the represent- 
atives of the country in the name of the 
new Prefect of Police. A young officer 
coolly read a despatch which he had just 
received from a general to whom had 
been given the chief comnian<l of tlie 
troops in Paris. By this despatch the 
unlucky deputies learned that those who 
offered any resistance were t(.) be at 
once arrested and taken to Mazas. 
They therefore surrendered, and went in 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



45 



a body to the great prison, conducted, as 
if the}' themselves were the iiisurreetiou- 
ists, by a squad of troops. .Some of 
them were even taicen by the collar, as 
if they were thieves or i)ick|)ockets. 

Then came the struggle of the citi- 
zens lightiug for the constitution and 
the laws against the corrupted army 
and the reiireseiitatives of the newly 
arrived autliority. Those days of li:irri- 
cades and mnssacre are uot yet forgot- 
ten. The spirit of Baudin, who was 
killed on the barricade in one of the 
days which followed the coup d'Etut, was 
destined to rise sixteen years afterwards 
and strike terror into the hearts of the 
supporters of the Empire. There were 
lileuty of heroic attempts at resistance, 
but none were attended with anj' success 
in the first two or three days. The 
deputies who had escajjed arrest went 
from barricade to barricade, haranguing 
the crowds who had gathered to tight 
the troops. Wherever the cry of " Vive 
r As.se inblec Nationals " was raised the 
troops charged upon the citizens, and a 
great many innocent and unarmed 
people were killed. On the 4th of 
December there was a veritalile mas- 
sacre on the ))oulevard, and fifteen hun- 
dred men made a vigorous defence 
against more than forty thousand. It 
is said that on this day more than 
sixty people were killed between the 
Boulevard Bonne Nouvelle and the 
I'oulovard des Italiens ; and the official 
Imperial papers six mouths after the 
fight admitted tliat three hundred and 
eighty persons were killed upon that day. 
On the 27th of January, 1853, M. de 
Maupas, Minister of Police, ijresentcd 
to the new Emperor a table, showing 
that twenty-six tliousand six himdred 
and forty-two persons were arrested or 
prosecuted in France after the conj) 
d'Etat, Twentv thousand of these were 



condemned to different terms of impris- 
onment ; the others were set at liberty. 
Thousands of persons were subjected to 
police surveillance, one of the most hu- 
miliating afflictions which can befall a 
human being. Nine hundred and fifteen 
persons were senten(;ed l)y courts-martial 
for crimes against the connnon law, so 
called, which were really nothing but 
political offences. Nearly ten tliousand 
political oyjponents of the new pjmpire 
were transported to Algeria. Thousands 
upon thousands were sent to linger in 
unhealthy prisons and in transport-ships 
waiting until there was an opportunity 
to send them to Cayenne or Lambessa. 
The least prejudiced and most careful 
authorities believe that they are uot 
guilty of exaggeration in saying that the 
Revolution of the Sd of December, 1851, 
made, at least one hundred thousand 
victims. 

Wlien the autliors of tiie roup d'Etat 
were well established in power they pro- 
ceeded to fortify their position. They 
voted a " law of general surety," which 
placed every Frenchman at tlie arbitrary 
disposition of the i)olice, to be trans- 
ported if he did, or even thought, any- 
tliing against the government. Jules 
Simon says, '■ The law of the 27tli of 
February, 1858, called the Law of 
General .Surety, placed every citizen at 
the mercy of the Minister of the Inte- 
rior." The whole country seemed bound 
with iron bands. People who had be- 
come accustomed, under the Republic 
and under the comparatively mild mon- 
ai'chies whicli had succeeded each other 
since the Fiist Empire, to a reasonal)le 
amount of liberty, were astounded be- 
yond measui'e at the n'givie in which tliey 
now entered. A respectable and respon- 
sible citizen would be arrested upon the 
denunciation of some political and private 
enemy ; would be kept in prison without 



46 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



being allowed to conimunicato with his 
family tor weeks, sometimes for mouths ; 
would theu be brought up before a com- 
missioner of police, who had very likely 
never heard of him, being appointed from 
the rank of the numerous Corsieans faith- 
ful to the Imperialist cause, and would 
be sentenced to ti'ansportation. He 
would then lie shackled with a criminal, 
packed into a prison wagon, taken to a 
seaport, and sent off to Cayenne, living, 
eating, and sleei)ing with the vilest crimi- 
nals, when his unly offence might have 
been a word spoken lightly in blame of 
the Empire. 

A discreet and modei'ate critic has 
summed up the reasons for the success of 
tha coup d'etat in a few words. "The 
enterprise," he says, " only succeeded be- 
•jause it was supported by sixty thousand 
men, and because at the first sign of re- 
sistance M. De Alorny, according to his 
own expression, "knew how 'to take 
the town by terror. ' Immense fact ! 
France, with its militar}' system, is in 
the power of him who holds the control 
of the armed forces in his hands." M. 
de Sybel says of the slaughter during 
the days following the euap d'Etat on 
the 4tli of December : " When the Prince 
saw that there was an armed resistance 
the tiger in him got the uppermost. 
The troops received an order to suppress 
tiie movement with pitiless energy. In 
a few hours many hundreds of men, 
simple spectators, women, old men, and 
children, ('■('/•(' niasaacri'd. It was the 
same in the dejiartments. Wherever 
resistauce broke out it ivas put down 
with frifjhtfid rriieJti/. The number of 
those actually- killed has not been made 
known, but more than twenty-six thou- 
sand men were sent across the ocean in 
exile iu a few weeks. " 

Immediately after the country had 
been terrorized by the coup d'Etat and its 



attendant massacres, the President an- 
nounced "The Plebiscite." Now a ple- 
biscite is the favorite arm of French 
Imperialism. Itis an election with appar- 
ent fairness, yet an election so arranged 
that it is impossible for citizens with 
safety to vote against the interests of the 
government which brings about the elec- 
tion. The formula laid down bj' the new 
autliorities, to be voted u[ion, was as fol- 
lows : " The French people wishes the 
maintenance of the authority of Louis 
Napoleon Bonaparte, and delegates to 
him the powers necessarj' to make a con- 
stitution on the basis proposed in his 
proclamation of the 2d of December." 
Thus the country had first the dispersion 
of its regularly elected representatives 
by an armed force ; theu a proclamation 
by the party employing that armed force 
announcing new elections ; then the new 
elections held within the iron grooves 
made by the party having possession of 
power. It is therefore not startling that 
the country, humiliated, crushed, and 
fearful lest, if the eml>ryo Empire were 
swejit away, civil war might ensue, gave 
its coerced assent to the formula of the 
])lebiscite. The vote was as follows : 
7,43;),21G, " Yes," against 640,737, 
" No." The Prince President professed 
to be delighted with his triumph, and 
went forward bravely to the construction 
of the Constitution. AVitii regard to this 
" plebiscite " it should be added, that 
there were more than a million and a half 
of abstentions iu the country, and these 
may be supposed to represent the men 
who were too honest to say yes, and too 
weak to say no. These many millions 
of votes, ou which the claims of the Im- 
perial party to power have been based 
ever since, gave Louis Napoleon Bona- 
parte the presidency of the Republic for 
ten years. " France," he said, in joyous 
indiscretion, " has responded to the royal 



EUROPE IN STORM AXP CALM. 



47 



appeal which I made to her. She has 
understood that I transgressed legality 
only to get back to justice." More than 
seven millions of votes had absolved 
him. 

Thenceforward the attitude of the 
Prince President was void of 
dissimulation. On the 1st of 
January, 1852, he placed the 
Imperial eagle on his flags, 
chose the Tuileries for his 
residence, even had a Te 
Deum sung at the cathedral 
of Notre Dame de Paris, and 
otherwise imitated tlie pro- 
ceedings of the First Empire. 
In the same month he ex- 
pelled from the country all 
the old representatives of tlie 
Legislative Assembly who 
had opposed him ; and among 
them were such men as Victor 
Hugo, Edouard Laboulaye, 
Nadaud, Bancel, Pelletier, 
Schoelcher, and Gambou . 1 1 e 
also sentenced to temporary 
exile Changarnier, Thiers, de 
Remusat, and many other dis- 
tinguished Republicans. Tliis 
month of January was a f luit- 
ful working time with him. 
He promulgated the new Con- 
stitution, of which he was the 
author, and in which lie at- 
tril)uted to himself the initia- 
tive of the laws, the appoint- 
ing of the members of the 
Senate, and defined the few 
rights which were left to 
house of the Legislature, 
created a Minister of Police and confis- 
cated the estates of the Orleans family ; 
but it was not until September of this 
same year that, while inaugurating the 
equestrian statue of Napoleon I., at 
Lyons, he hinted his intention of re- 



establishing the Empire ; and in (October, 
at Bordeaux, he made a speech, in which 
he used the celebrated phrase, " ' L' Em- 
pire c'est la paix.' It is peace because 
France desires it ; and when France is 
satisfied the rest of the world is tranquil." 




the lower 
Next, lie 



On iiis return to Paris cries of " Vive 
I'Eiiipereur!" were raised by the official 
chorus always in his train ; but the Prince 
President was like Richard III., — he 
liked to be urged ; and, according to 
him, it was only in obedience to public 
opinion that he consented to consult the 
Senate. This servile body voted the 



4-S 



EVROrK I.\ STORM AXD CALM. 



estabiisluneiit of the Empire, almost 
unanimously, in November of 1852, and 
a new plebiscite gave 7,824,129 votes 
for tiie Empire and 253,149 against it. 

Exactly one year after the coup d'Etat, 
on the 1st of December, 1852, at eight 
o'clock in the evening, Louis Bonaparte 
was solennily proclnimed Emperor, by 
the name of Napoleon III., at 8t. Cloud, 
in tile presence of the Senate and the 
C'irjjs Li'yislatif. By a decree of the 
ISth of the same month he arranged 
the order of succession to the throne, 
richly dowered the newly made Impe- 
rial family, and gave himself a civil list 
of 25,000,000 francs, exclusive of the 
revenues derived from the domain of 
the crown. 

We need not pursue further our re- 
view of the Second Empire. Its whole 
history, from the creation of Napo- 
leon as President to the brilliant year 



of which ue have sl<etchetl some of tlie 
salient features, may be read in tlie fol- 
lowing biief sentences from the pen of 
Jules Simon : — 

" I will pass over the eighteen years 
of the i-eign inaugurated hy the 2d of 
Deceml)er. Tliey might be sunnned up 
as to the internal regime in these words : 
the mixed commissions (which decreed 
the executions and expulsions following 
the roiij) d'Etat) ; the general surety ; 
the repressive administration <^r the 
Press, and the offleial caudidatesliips ; no 
liberties whatever ; and for the external 
policy, this only : Sebastopol ; Italian 
unity cleft in twain by the Peace of 
Villafrauca ; Mexico; Sadowa ; no al- 
liance." 

It was, in short, ii period of absolute 
repression, which was approaching its 
close iu 18(;7, and vvliich was to finish iu 
storm anil blood. 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



49 



CHAPTER FOUR. 

The Imperial Eeforms come Too Late. — Uprising of the Internationale. — The Commune Foreshadowed. 



WHEN the Eraperov Napok'ou III. 
endeavored to save his tottering 
Empire by iuaugiiratino- liberal reforms 
in France, it was already too late. In 
his own party there were few if any 
statesmen, or even politicians of talent 
and importance, who believed that it 
was either safe or expedient to aliandon 
the practice of repression, which had 
been kept up with such vigor for many 
years ; and all the sincere friends of 
real liberty were determined to postpone 
the advent of freedom rather than to 
accept it from the hands of "the man 
of December." The Empire was in dan- 
ger abroad from the constantly growing 
influence of Prnssia, and at home from 
the skilfnl and insidious working of the 
great "International Association," — a 
mj-sterious body of conspirators, with 
which most of the talented working- 
men of the great cities of France had 
relations ; from the gradually- growing 
courage of the Press ; and also from 
the untameable eloquence of certain 
young orators in Paris, who, like Gam- 
betta, had not yet found a public out- 
side of the cafes ot the Latin Quarter, 
but who were not frightened by visions 
of fine or imprisonment, and who man- 
aged to tell the people a good deal of 
truth. 

The Emperor had in his early days 
made careful studies of the condition of 
the working-men in France and in other 
European countries. He had written, 
during bis captivitj' at Ham, certain 
pamphlets which caused him to be ac- 



cused of socialistic tendencies ; and he 
used laughingly to say of himself, when 
he was in the full tide of his power at 
the Tuileries, that he was the only mem- 
ber of the European famil3' of sovereigns 
who was a socialist. The real fact is 
that Napoleon III. was not a socialist at 
all, but that he was a skilful demagogue ; 
and had his lot been cast in a Republi- 
can country, where political campaigns 
are conducted with the greatest freedom, 
and even license, he would have been in 
his youth at the head of a working-men's 
party, which would have been powerful 
and unscrupulous, because he would 
have taken advantage of its ignorance. 
The Empire at regular intervals made 
bids for popularity among the working- 
classes, and as regularl}' failed to achieve 
it. Tlie endowment of hospitals, and 
occasional visits to industrial centres, did 
not, in the eyes of the thoroughly grieved 
and angered laborer, compensate for the 
lack of public schools, and for the main- 
tenance of most of the old monarchical 
oppressive formalities with regard to the 
condition of the toiler for wages. 

The retainers of the Empire had vivid 
memories of the Revolution of 1848. 
They took full advantage of their knowl- 
edge of its follies and its failures, 
and used them as an argument against 
giving full liberties to the masses. Na- 
poleon himself, by the famous letter of 
the 19th of January, 1867, in which he 
spoke with such appai'eut frankness of 
past repression, and made such generous 
promises of future liberality, meant to 



50 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



check in some measure the woikiug- 
meu's movement against the Empire 
and against anthority. He had been 
slirewd enough to observe tliis movement 
two or tiiree years before it eame to tlie 
surface. No man was better placed 
than liimself for obtaining a full appre- 
ciation of th(! volcanic shimmer ; none 
better qualifu'd to judge of the moment 
wheu the bidden forces might break 
forth. lie knew the thinness of the crust 
upon which he stood ; but, altliougli he 
knew it, his supporters and partisans, 
flushed with long maintenance of power, 
and blinded by their couteuipt for the 
laboring classes, refused to appreciate it. 
M. Rouher, so long in the service of 
the Empire tliat he had come familiarly 
to be called the " Vice-Emperor," was 
deeply grieved, and somewhat angered 
by Napoleon's letter. M. Rouher was 
a robust Auvergnat, blessed with two 
flue elements of success, —a massive 
physique, which gave him an unbounded 
capacit}' for work ; and an easy con- 
science, which enabled him to find a 
speedy apology for an\' misdeed whieli 
seemed to serve for the moment the ends 
of the PvUipire. Rouher was expected liy 
his friends to resign his portfolio as Min- 
ister of fState at the beginning of 18G7, 
because it was well known in Imperialist 
circles that he was the greatest advocate 
of a continuance of repressive policy. 
He used to say that the reforms of which 
the Emperor talked so airily would be 
the very abomination of desolation ; that 
the country had all the liberties it was 
fitted to possess, and that it was suicidal 
for the Empire to grant more. It is 
impossible to avoid the conclusiou that 
Napoleon was gifted with greater fore- 
sight than that possessed by his iSIinister 
of State. Had the Emperor been able to 
acliieve his purpose of satisfying by par- 
tial reforms the clamorous workers who 



were gradually unsettling the social 
order, and at the same time by arrange- 
ments with Prussia to offset the pre- 
ponderance which that aggressive nation 
had recentlv obtained, b_y getting some 
territorial aggrandizement for France, 
he might liave died upon the throne of 
France. 

Hut the fates seemed against him, 
and the Napoleons have always believed 
in the fates. The ease with which he 
succumlied in 1870 leads one to believe 
that he felt his cause lost when he failed 
in 18t)7 and 1868 to carry out his i)hui. 

The fu'st check which the Emperor 
received, in his endeavor to save the sit- 
uation, came from the efforts of a pow- 
erful and popular Parisian journalist, 
M. fimile de Girardin, an old w^ar-horse 
of combat, who had a reputation in 
France something like that w(jn by 
Horace Greeley in America ; who had the 
energy and bravery of a good soldier, 
and tiie suppleness, the delicacy in in- 
trigue, of a traiued diplomat. M. de 
Girardin was an uncompromising enemy 
of the Emperor's new departure, and as 
early as ]\Iareh, 18()7, he was so aggres- 
sive as to come under the Imperial law, 
and be was lined 5,000 francs for a press 
offence. This was because he denied 
with much eloquence the Emperor's as- 
sertion tliat he had lirought the country 
gradually, year by year, up to better 
things. Another journalist who dared to 
lieard the Emperor, and who did it with 
a skill and daring of which France had 
rarely seen instances for half a genera- 
tion, was Henri Roehefort, whose roman- 
tic history since that time is now well 
known all over the world. Roehefort 
began to write in a sprightly Paris journal 
called the FI(jaro, about the time that 
that paper became a daily in ISGG. He 
won a brilliant reputatiou as a chroniqueur 
and critic of political events in 18G7, 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



51 



and the liberal public rallied around him. 
The blows which he strucic were so hard 
that the Empire speedily put itself upon 
the defensive, and tlio sale of the Fiijaro 
upon the public street was forbidden by 
law. This under the Empire was a 
common occurrence. The purchaser of 
a Republican or Liberal paper expected 
at least once a month to find that his 
journal had been seized, or that its 
sale had been stopped in the little kioslis, 
or wooden pavilions, where the news- 
vendors sell their wares on the honlc- 



writing against the Empire. They were 
not always decent in their attaclis, and 
M. Rochefort must now and then blush 
when he remembers the diatribes pub- 
lished in his Laiiterne, which was founded 
by him, in 18C><, expressly to combat the 
Empire. 

liut they did their work, and did it 
well. The more the Empire prosecuted, 
the greater became the daring of the 
journalists of these last days of the 
Imperial rvgime, and the Emperor was 
bitterly perplexed. If he accorded com- 




A PARISIAN .TOUK^-ALIST IN rUISON. 



'cards; and he went philosophically to 
the bookseller, behind whose sheltering 
windows he would find the offendinff 

o 

journal, generally at an advanced price. 
De Girardin and Rochefort gave the first 
impetus to the final revolt against the 
Empire. They laughed to scorn the 
promises of those who had so long 
practised a different doctrine from that 
which the}" now professed. They spoke 
out with an earnestness all the more 
striking because it was contrasted with 
the irony, or the compressed wit, with 
which Liberals like Prevost Paradol had 
felt obliged to content themselves when 



plete liberties he felt that he might be 
swei)t away on account of them ; if he 
did not accord complete liberties they 
might be taken by force out of his 
hands. 

Tlie International Association of 
Workingmeu was an enemy which the 
faltering Empire strove to reach by 
every means in its power. It tracked 
down the humljle artisans who met in 
out of the way places to pass measures 
which in America or England would 
have been considered as in no way prej- 
udicial to the safety of the State, and 
not very dangerous to the projjerty of 



52 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



the capitalist. It published decrees. 
It streugtheued its prohibitive measures 
agaiust secret societies, and put dowu 
" strikes," wliich were becoming very 
numerous, witli the greatest promptness. 
But the IiiterHatioiiah', as it was called, 
was as difficult to kill as the Nihilist 
organization has been at a later day in 
Eussia. •• It was," says the Vicomte 
de Beaumont- Vassy, in his "Authentic 
History of the Commune of Paris," " a 
terrible secret society, which sought to 
envelop the whole world in its invisible 
snares, and seemed to us in the nine- 
teenth century as if endeavoring to 
execute upon governments such sen- 
tences as the secret triljunals of Ger- 
many in the middle ages executed upon 
sovereigns." 

The Internationale was a terrilile bug- 
l)ear to the Imunjeoh, or property-holding 
man of the middle classes, and his fears 
were not unfounded, as will be seen 
later. 

It is the fasliion in France to say 
that the Intematiunale had its origin 
in Germany. I have no desire to 
enter closely into the origin of the 
Association. Tlie supposition that it is 
due to the theories so coinously written 
upon by Leibnitz and Jacobi in (Jermany 
has no better foimdation than that which 
gives us as its originators such great 
and wrong-headed thinkers as Proudhon 
and Pierre Leroux. 

A certain number of French writers 
say that the lirst socialistic notions of 
the Inter nationnle came into France with 
the German workmen who emigrated 
from tlieir h(.imes in great numbers to 
the fertile lands and richer cities beyond 
tlie Rhine, in the ten years preceding 
the war of 1S70. That which is estab- 
lished lieyond doulit is that the Inter- 
nationale was a jiractical and active 
organization, setting aside as useless the 



vague and hollow theories of Louis Blanc 
and other kindred spirits about the rela- 
tions of labor to caiiital and to the State. 
The laliorers of the new generation were 
determined on emancipation. 

In England, Karl Marx ))rought the In- 
ternational Association of Working-men 
fairly into good society for a time ; and 
in the countries where it was not harassed 
and driven into hiding-places it did not 
extensively advertise its socialistic pro- 
pensities. In France, because the Em- 
pire Iiarried it without cessation, it 
fomented strikes, provoJied riots in the 
cities, and published proclamations which 
made the bonnjeois tremble in his shoes. 
I have heard Frenchmen seriously say 
that Bismarck sulisidized the Association 
at the time of the great Creuzot strike. 
The reason given for this was that 
I'russia, always on the alert against at- 
tacks by the Imi)eriai Government, had 
a direct interest in creating as much 
embarrassment for that government as 
possible. This is a doubtful story. 

The programme of the International 
Aissociation was comprehensive and radi- 
cal. It was printed for the first time 
in London, and speedily got into print 
in France, although any comment upon 
its doctrines was sternly forbidden. The 
document was as follows : — 

" FIvery man has a right to existence, 
and, consequently, a right to work. 

" The right to work is imprescriptible, 
and, for tliat reason, ought to be accom- 
panied by the riglit of instruction and of 
liberty of action. 

"As it is at present constituted, so- 
ciety can offer no real guarantee to the 
laborer. 

" In fact, an obstacle arises before 
him at the very outset of his career. 
This obstacle is capital. 

" Whichever way the laborer turns, he 
cannot liattle against the inert force of 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



53 



money, accompanied and supported by 
the intelligent capitalist. 

" To solve the problem sonic have tried 
association ; others, mutualism. Thej' 
thought they were settling, but in fact 
the_y were only muddling, the question. 

" They did not perceive that, so long 
as capital i-eraained intact, the associa- 
tion of mere brain and muscle would not 
suffice ; but that they must have their 
own capital, and that this is all the more 
important, because the monej' capitalists 
would oppose with all their force the 
revolt of labor against their tyranny. 
By this fact alone previous associations 
of working-men are condemned. IMutual- 
ism has done notliiug for tlie working- 
man or the laborer but to put him more 
than ever under the domination of money ; 
so that there is nothing to be hoiied from 
these methods. 

"Now, it is not capital alone which 
binds down the working-man. Swaddled 
from iiis infancy in the triple long-clothes 
of country, family, and religion ; cradled 
in the respect for property, however it 
may have been got, the prolctdruit can 
become something only on condition of 
annihilating all this, of casting away 
from it these old notions of paternal 
barbarisms. 

" The International Association has 
and can have no other aim than that of 
aiding in the extinction of tliese mon- 
strous prejudices. 

" It ought to become to workmen 
of all countries a centre of action, an 
energetic director, to show them liow to 
act together. It alone has the power 
and the right to discipline tlie masses, 
to hurl them upon their oppressors, who 
will feel crushed beneath tlie shock. 

"To this end its programme should 
be the abolition of all religions, of prop- 
erty, of the family, of the hereditary 
principle, and of the nation. 



"When the International Society of 
Working-men has stamped out the germ 
of these prejudices among all laborers 
capital will be dead. Then society can 
arise upon an indestructible basis ; then 
workmen will rally for the right to 
work ; then women will be f I'ee. The 
child will have a real right to live under 
the a-gis of a society which will no 
longer abuse him. 

" But let no one deceive himself; let 
dreamers seek no system for arriving at 
a solution that force alone can give. 

"Force! this is what will give the 
sceptre of the world to the lalioring 
classes ; outside of tliis nothing can lift 
them from the rut of rotten iiKjdern civ- 
ilization. 

" When two contravy powers are op- 
posed to oue another one of the two 
must be annihilated. 

"To arms, laborers! Progress and 
humanity" count upon you." 

Wlio cannot see in this twaddling, 
incoherent proclamation the germ of the 
dread Socialism which crept into the 
Commune of Paris shortly after its 
proclamation in 1871, and which did such 
dire mischief? Those followers of the 
Empire who were blessed with sutlicient 
intelligence to review the shortcomings 
of their party's career could not fail to 
perceive that tliis programme of the 
Inter nationale was the outcome of an 
ignorance which might have lieen 
amended, if not entirely s\vei)t away, 
so far as the French workiug-meu were 
concerned, during the years between 
1848 and 18G7. In point of fact wliat 
French workmen were clamoring for 
was extremely simple. They needed 
the abolition of the privileges of the 
emplojiug class ; the abolition of the 
livret, or " character-book," which made 
each artisan in some sense a slavish 
dependent on his employer ; and they 



54 



F.UROrE IX STORM AND CALM. 



furthermore needed the light nf public 
assembly, unrestricted right to bear 
arms, ,aud the uninterrupted right to 
strike when they had a decent grievance. 
But, because the Eniitire had persistently 
denied them these things, they were 
driven in their mad determination to 
|)rotcst against the social order which 
had doni' n(^thing for them, bv atliliation 
with tlie grotesque and abominable 
theories of this so-called International 
Association of Wurking-ineu. When 
the Empire ri'iiented and wished to give 



them reforms the propitious hour was 
passed. The germ of the Commune was 
sown. The government, which had 
usurped authority in Fi-ance on the ex- 
clusive pica that it had a mission to 
maintain order, had at the end of its 
career the disgrace of seeing a social 
disorder, more i)rofound and terribh' than 
any which has occurred elsewhere in this 
century, uprising with dreadful speed, 
and in spite of the most vigorous en- 
deavor to keep it down. 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



55 



CHAPTER FIVE. 



Events in Spain. — The Outcropping of Revolution. — Rule of the Internationale. — Brief Review of 
Spanish Politics. — ■ Doiia Is.abeh — Prim and .Serrano. — A .Journey tlirougri tlic North of .Spain. — 
Biarritz and San Sebastian. — iV Wonderful Railway. — The Approach to the Escurial. — .\n Im- 
pressive Edifice. — Looking at a Dead Monarch. 



TTT^HILE there -n-cre, thus, many pi'o- 
' V tests in France .ig.iinst the re- 
pressive governmeut of the .Second 
Empire, few people fancied that the Re- 
publican experiment was likely to begin 
in earnest for many years ; and it is amus- 
ing to look back and remember how 
earnestly the French of liberal sympa- 
thies watched the progress of events 
))eyoud the Pyrenees, confident that in 
Spain the Re[)ublic would first get a firm 
hold. Spanish politics have rarely been 
more interesting since the beginning of 
this perturbed century than they were in 
1869. The r.apid succession of pictu- 
resque and dramatic events, which had 
taken place since Queen Isaliel fled from 
her capital to San Sebastian, had turned 
the gaze of all Europe to the country 
which seemed suddenly- to have awakened 
from its long and slothful devotion to 
priestcraft and to the least intelligent 
form of monarchy. The famous Inter- 
nationale was said to have wide ramifi- 
cations in Sp.ain, and to be preparing 
socialistic revolutions which were to 
break forth simultaneously in the north- 
ern and southern districts. The distaib- 
auce in Spain undoubtedly contril)uted 
somewhat to make the authorities of the 
Second Empire in France nervous and 
suspicious. It was believed by no one 
in the Imperial party that intelligent Re- 
publicanism was strong enough in either 
France or Spain to establish itself ; but 



this mysterious and subterranean agent 
known as the Inteniationale, working di- 
rectly' upon the passions and prejudices of 
the uneducated or half-educated classes, 
was dreaded and feared. In the autumn 
oT 18G9 the Internationale was as much 
talked of as the Nihilists have been in re- 
cent years. Wherever a blow could be 
struck at it in France, as in 18G7, the 
government never lost an opportunity. 

It would be difficult to understand what 
was taking place in .Spain at this time 
without ))rietly reviewing Spanish politi- 
cal history from the beginning of the 
century. We find Xapoleon I. at Ba- 
yonne shortly after Charles lY . had given 
up his crown to liis son, Ferdinand VII. ; 
and the Corsican ogre has a ciirt inter- 
view with these two Spanish kings, forc- 
ing them to yield their rights to the 
throne, carrying off the whole royal 
family prisoners into France, and giving 
the crown of Spain to his brother Joseph 
Bonaparte. Victor Hugo has given us 
some thrilling pictures of the life at the 
French Court in Spain after 1808, when 
the country rose as one man against the 
jiateful sovereignty which had been im- 
posed upon it. Hugo's mother was in 
the great retreat from Spain wlien .loseph 
Bonaparte was summarily expelled ; and 
there is no more disastrous withdrawal 
of troops from an unsuccessful campaign 
in French history than was this. Welling- 
ton and his men had driven the French 



56 



EUnOPE IN STORM A XV CALM. 



troops back upim tlie ICbro. Napoleon 
had come to the aid of his brother, had 
been conqueror at Burgos and Tudela, 
had even entered ^Nlach'id and suminoued 
the autliorities to give him up the sword 
whicli Francis I. had lostatPavia. But 
all this was in vain. Tile guerillas kept 
up their redoubtable warfare, and, al- 
though Saragossa succumbed before the 
tremendous attack of Lannes, Napoleon 
had to own that ho was fairly beaten ; 
and in 181,'!, S[)ain, after five years of 
most horrible convulsions, put Ferdinand 
V^II. upon the thi-oue. He w'as a despot, 
and was soon suriMunded by consiiiracy, 
was frightened into taking an oath to tiie 
Lil)eral constitutiou which had been ] ire- 
pared in 1812, and liberty was springing 
up when the nobk^s banded together and 
stifled it in its cradle. 

There was a revolution, but the sov- 
ereigus of Europe saw tliat it would not 
do to let Liberal ideas blossom in Spain, 
and so one huudrcd thousand Frenchmen 
reestablished Ferdintmd VII. in his ab- 
solute power. When this monarch dieil, 
in 1833, a civil war oi succession broke 
out. Then came Dona Isabel, who was 
proclaimed as Queen under the tutelage 
of the queen-mother Maria Christina, and 
Don Carlos, the lirothcr of the King, was 
excluded. lu 1833 the (pieen-mother 
gave to her people a constitutional char- 
ter, — a kind of w^eak compromise be- 
tween absolutism and lilieralism, — and 
she lioped that this would strengthen her 
position. ^Meantime Don Carlos was 
knocking furiously at her palace gates. 
"What bloodshed, what anguish, have 
been caused by this Carlist faction dur- 
ing the last half-century ! 

Dona Isabel's reign was neither better 
nor wiser than that of many of her prede- 
cessors. Espartero and Narvaez in turn 
exercised their power on the country 
which had seen its Kepublican ideals 



so ruthlessly shattered. The cultivated 
and ambiti(^us Lilierals of Spain found 
the air unhealtln' for them, and [lined 
away in voluntary exile in foreign cities ; 
or if they ventured to conspire, or to 
think and speak freely against the rotten 
condition of the country, they incurred 
heavy peualties. The house of the 
Bourbons, which had reigned in Spain 
since 17(Ki, with the slight interregnum 
caused liy the intervention of Napoleon 
and his lirotlier, was destined to meet 
with strange adventures. After Queen 
Isabel had been on the throne for a 
(piarter of a century, in 18G8 a revolu- 
tion, which had lieen long foreseen by 
the wise men of all countries in Europe, 
broke forth witli resistless power. Of- 
ficers of the army, who had been exiled 
because of Liljcral sentiments, gave the 
signal f<ir this great revolt against mon- 
archy by a daring incursion into Spain. 
The populations in the cities of the 
Soutli suiidcnly rose in revolution, and 
the Queen, after sending away so nnich 
of her fortune as she could realize has- 
tily to lianks in I'aris and Loudon, fled 
to St. Sebastian. A great joy seemed 
to run through the peninsula, and proc- 
lamations were posted in the cities and 
in the towns, calling the people to arms. 
The parties unexpectedly coalesced. The 
exiled generals returned, and organized 
troops in the provinces. Prim and his 
men ap[ieared in frout of Cadiz, and 
took the town. Concha, whom Queen 
Isabel had made her prime minister, 
took the most energetic measures in 
vain. All that the frightened queen 
c(.)uld secure was a promise that she 
might reenter Madrid without molesta- 
tion if she would leave her favorite Mar- 
fori behind. Doha Isabel said no ; she 
would not give up her favorite. She 
then received the news that a " jirovi- 
sional government " had been formed at 



EUROrE IN STORM A^^D CALM. 



57 



Madrid, and she crossed the frontier 
into France, where she was offered a 
refuge in the hospitable town of Pan. 
Then came the fall of the Bourbons in 
Spain. Universal suffrage was voted. 
The Jesuits were expelled from the 
country, and Spain had entered into a 
Republic with the spilling of less blood 
than is customary at a bull-fight. The 
revolutionary chiefs announced their de- 
termination to give up their powers to 
the Cortes, and Europe marvelled at the 
wisdom of a country usuallv so turbu- 
lent in its politics. 

This produced an immense impression 
in France ; but the press did not feel at 
liberty to draw any conclusions from 
the Republican triumph in Spain. At 
the elections which followed the revolt 
of 1868, a monarchical majority was 
sent to the Cortes, and Marshal .Ser- 
rano was made Regent, until, so said 
the monarchists, " a good king can be 
found." It was at this time that Cas- 
telar appeared upon the scene of Span- 
ish politics. After the patriot Orense, 
who had for a long time enjoyed the 
honor of being the only veritable Span- 
ish Republican, he took the direction of 
the Democratic party, and came boldly 
forward to demand of the provisional 
government the immediate proclamation 
of a Spanish Republic. 

C4eneral Prim and Marshal Serrano, 
who had opposed the Bourbons only that 
they might get possession of power and 
place upon the throne a king that suited 
them, repelled Castelar's proposition. 
Then the genius of the Spanish orator 
began to declare itself. He made a 
grand tour through all the principal cit- 
ies of Spain, and in each of them made 
ringing speeches in favor of the cause of 
liberty and of republicanism. 

Castelar and Gamljetta made their 
definite entry into public notoriety in 



this same exciting year of 18G8 ; each 
was gifted with tremendons audacity ; 
each was entirely reckless of conse- 
quences to himself ; and each sowed seed 
from which was afterwards reaped an 
abundant harvest of good for France 
and Spain. Despite Castelar's eloquence 
and his almost superhuman exertions, 
at the general elections for the Cortes in 
the spring of 18G9 only thirty-five Repub- 
licans were elected. This was a minority, 
and a decision not unlike that which in 
18G9, in the French Corps Licjislatif, 
caused Napoleon III. and his minis- 
ters so much trouble. Castelar dashed 
into the attack upon the government 
with the same energy that he had dis- 
played in his campaign throughout the 
country. He asked for amnesty for all 
political offences, and again demanded 
the establishment of the Republic. In 
this same spring, too, he began his fa- 
mous assault upon religious fanaticism, 
which had so long been the curse of 
Spain. He won his battle, and liberals 
throughout Europe rejoiced when the tele- 
graph announced, one morning in April, 
1869, that Spain had at last granted lib- 
erty of public worship ; but although the 
great man was powerful enough to thrill 
to its very marrow the populations of 
Spain, with his resounding language, 
and to strike terrror into the hearts of 
the reactionists who ventured even to 
apologize for the horrors of the Spanish 
Inquisition ; although he was popular 
enough to have the right of citizenship 
conferred upon him by more than five 
hundred Spanish towns and villages, — 
he was without success in attacking the 
law which definitely estal>lished Marshal 
Serrano as Regent. 

Yet, day by day, the republican move- 
ment spread in wider and wider circles 
throughout the country ; and when the 
government of the Regent was bold 



58 



EUROPE IN STOB.^f AXD CA/.M. 



enough to annouiice that it was soaich- 
ing Eiiroiie for a new king for Sjiaiii, 
the revolution, whicli had been pi'eparcd 
by Castelar's subjects, burst forth witli a 
violence and savagery quite diflerent 
from that of the outbrealv in 18G8. 

First tlie crown was offered to an ex- 
king of Portugal, wlio refused it ; then 
to tlie little Duke of Geuoa, Prince of 
the House of Savoy. For a few days 
the candidateship of this boyish duke, 
who w"as then at school at Harrow, in 
England, seemed to have some chance 
in its favor. C'astelar and the other Re- 
publicans informed their supporters that 
they might soon expect to see a king 
lu'ought to Madrid ; and then came the 
uprisings in Catalonia and in Andalusia, 
and tlie splendid protest against king- 
ship at Saragossa and Valencia. Hut 
here the movement was checked. Va- 
lencia, besieged and bombarded, had to 
surrender at the end of nine days' vio- 
lent battle, and C'astelar, who, it is said, 
had secretly based his hopes upon tlie 
success of the insurrection, contented 
liinisclf, for a time, with the withdrawal 
of the proposition tt> make the Duke of 
Genoa king. 

C'uri<.ius to see the revolution which 
I fancied would I'esult in the defuiite 
foundation of the Ivcpublic in S|)ain, I 
crossed the Pyrenees, and was an eye- 
witness of many episodes of the combat. 
Early in October, in 1809, I left Paris, 
where the Opposition to the Empire had 
suddenly assumed formidable pro[)or- 
tions, and went to Madrid. Before en- 
tering Spain I paused at Biarritz, where, 
two years before, Bismarck had come to 
jtay his homage to the Empress Eugenie. 
It was still the bathing season in the 
late southern autumn, and I sat down 
upon the sand near the sleepy sui'f, and 
watched the bathers coming and going, 
singing merr\- songs, and gesticulating 



madly. Biarritz was tlien the most 
fashionable of Frenc'h watering-places. 
It was the custom to stop at Bayoune, 
the old town which gave the liayonet its 
name, and to drive over to Biarritz in 
diligences, drawn by hardy little mules, 
imported from beyond the Spanish 
frontier. 

Eugenie loved Biarritz and made its 
fortune. Napoleon would never have 
thought of going so far south to build 
an ImjK'rial residence ; but the Spanish- 
born IiiijH'i-dtriri' made her Tailos, as she 
called him, l)uild a beautiful palace by 
the southern sea. The route from 
Biarritz winds over high hills, among 
avenues of poplars, which cast their 
friendly shades to protect you from the 
glaring sun. Suddenly the beauty of 
the romantic coast of the Bay of Biscay 
Inu'sts ui)on the view. Pretty villas dot 
the hills and peer out of luxuriant 
foliage. I found plenty of amusement 
on the beach, in watching the Spaniards, 
who went in to bathe with their cigars 
in their moutlis, and who jjractised with 
mucli dexterity the art of keeping their 
heads unwet by the higiiest waves. 
Lonu- trains of nnile.s, loaded with 
screaming and laughing ladies, were 
driven into the most furious jiai't of the 
surf, and tlu're the beauties annised them- 
selves by liolding on as long as they 
could against tlie incoming crests. Biar- 
ritz is .still a favorite resort for the 
]<'rench and Spanish aristocrats. The 
railway scarcely disturbs the tranquil 
seclusion of the place. Towards evening 
a charming silence pervades the town ; 
cool breezes l)low inland ; semi-tro|)ical 
trees hide the green, delicately-veined 
insides of their leaves, not to turn them 
till the morrow's dew invites. The peas- 
ants gather in groups, and softly sing 
melodies in patois to the gentle music of 
the o;uitar ; and under the awning of the 



EUROPE /iV STORM AND CALM. 



59 



green-latticed cafes the Spaiiisli peddlers, 
who have trudged up from lUirgos, or 
Valladolid, offer Uankets, long knives 
witli beautifully carved handles, and 
scent-bottles from Tangiers. 

On the Spanish coast at San Sebas- 
tian, where Dona Isabel went in lier 



1-^ 



ii - 41 







are no longer the same. Tiie grave and 
earnest Basque, ignorant but conscien- 
tious and virtuous, salutes the stranger 
with solemn courtesy. Here and there 
are touches upon a relic of the abortive 
campaigns of successive Don Carloses. 
Priests saunter slowly by, smoking cigar- 
ettes, and lazily swinging their 
umbrellas. The fields have a neg- 
lected look. San Sebastian is a 
delightful little citj', coquettish, 
fresh, Hooded with brilliant sun- 
light, set down at the base of lofty 
mountains whose peaks shine like 
blocks of crystal. It extends from 
the pretty bay of La Concha, at 
the mouth of wiiich is the island 
of Santa Clara, to the mouth of 
the Urremea river. Seaward from 




rROCLAIMIXG TUE SPANISH REPUBLIC. 



flight, the sport of bathing goes on until 
even the first daj's of November. Fi'om 
Biarritz to San Sebastian is Init an liour's 
ride l)y diligence, but in that hour the 
traveller feels as if he had in swme un- 
accountable manner left Eui'ope behind 
him. Architecture has changed ; the 
costumes of the people by the wayside 
are different ; manners, speech, gestures. 



the i)romoutory of liilliao to Biarritz one 
sees the waves lap the crags and masses of 
stone, whose yellow and reddish colors 
contrast strangely witii the white foam 
dashing now and then over their summits. 
Near San Sebastian one finds valleys full of 
shade and mystery ; deep gorges through 
which bridle-paths wind in perplexing 
fashion ; pinnacles from which he can 



60 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



look Up to mightier iiiiinacles lioyoiul. 
Priests, smugglers, muleteers, peasant- 
girls iu red and yellow petticoats, gra- 
ciously salute the wanderer ; and if one 
stops at a roadside inn he is treated with 
utmost consideration and honesty. 

On this my first journey to Madrid, 
I thought the railway ran through one 
of the most picturesque and impressive 
countries in the universe. Just before 
arriving at Irun, the frontier town, archi- 
tecture had changed as rai)idly as the 
comliinatioiis in a pantomime. The 
houses of southern France, well l)uilt of 
solid carved stone and with four-cornered 
steep roofs, were exchanged for the glar- 
ing white walls, generally out of repair, 
and tlie low and sloping roofs of Si)anish 
dwellings. From Irun to Burgos the 
scenery was of the wildest. The road 
traverses yawning valleys, runs along the 
edges of precipices, plunges into somhre 
anddeserted plains, winds through passes 
cut out of the solid rock, and pierces the 
hearts of the mountains sixty-nine times 
before it reaches the environs of Madrid. 
Everywhere the beautiful has a mixture 
of rugged grandeur in it. Tunnel suc- 
ceeds tunnel, under great balustrades 
perched on rude, deep-ribl)ed layers of 
the hardest rock. Sometimes the railway 
line winds along an embankment which 
gives the traveller a glance up some tre- 
mendous delile, at the end of which blue 
ranges of mountains melt softly into the 
bluest sky. Through the defile winds a 
white strip of road, fringi-d with foliage, 
and enlivened l)y a string of mules, car- 
rying merchandise ti> tiie nearest town. 
'Yha posaihis and luu-U' mhts -drc tXhiy , and 
the sills of the windows are stained with 
the refuse thrown carelessly out of doors ; 
the walls are hung with tol)acco-stalks 
and flags, and the i)ig reigns supreme in 
the front door. iSome of the mountain 
sides which are cultivated are so steep 



that the donkey drawing the primitive 
plough has to press his feet and slide 
down the furrows, dragging plougli and 
peasant after him. Agricultural imple- 
ments are of the simjilest character. The 
plough is a straight i)iece of wood shar- 
pened at one end, and I'astened roughly to 
a rude harness. Donkeys and dwarf, 
yellow-colored oxen do all the work of 
teams. The shepherds along the road 
look two or three centuries out of j)lace, 
as their costume has hardly undergone 
any change since the time of I'hiliii II. 

I did not stop at Miranda or at Bur- 
gos on this journey ; l)ut in Later years 
I learned to wonder at the incomparable 
richness of the fii^ade of the Burgos 
cathedral, on every square on the walls 
of which are the marks of the genius of 
the great sculptors of the thirteenth cen- 
tur}' ; and I could not help marvelling at 
the curious taste which placed this Cath- 
olic wonder in this arid country, where a 
cold wind, half the year, chills the very 
marrow. Aiiproaeliing the environs of 
INIadrid I was struck with the desolate 
character of the eomitry. Here were 
pine forests ; huge rocks which overhung 
narrow paths along mountain sides ; 
caverns in which brigands might hide ; 
little torrents leaping over precipices 
close to the railway. Here were plains 
tilled with rocks shaken into strangest 
forms bj' volcanic action, and high crags 
shutting out the sunlight. Shortly before 
arriving at tlie Escurial the route [lasses 
Las Navas. one of the vilest and most 
dangerous little places in .Spain, as I 
found in an excursion from 3Iadrid. 
Tlie houses in Las Navas are built of 
coarse stone, rudely carved, lllaek swine 
wander freely in and out of them. The 
peoiile are grossly ignorant ; dozens of 
them ci.uifessed to me that they had 
never visited Madrid, that they knew 
nothing of politics, and as for reading 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



61 



and writing, tliej' were not oven ac- 
quainted with any one who possessed 
these extraordinaiy accomplishments. 
At Madrid, girls brown as Arabs of- 
fered to the traveller fresh millc in little 
clay pots. A hunter strolled by with a 
hare upou his shoulder, aud proposed to 
sell it. A hare mav bo had for ten cents. 



proceeds across the rocky aud uninvit- 
ing country between the main lino of 
rail to Madrid and the Escurial. Leav- 
ing the comfortable first-class carriages 
to plod across the waste is not very 
agreeable, but cue is well repaid by the 
treasures within the walls. The shep- 
herds, beggars, aud priests, who are 




THE ESCUIUAL, KEAR MADULD. 



A liliglit seems to ovorliang the whole 
country round about. As I wandered 
through these plains towards the frowning 
Escurial, one darlc October day, I could 
not help thinking that a curse had fallen 
on the locality where Philip II. lived, 
prayed, and sang praises to the God 
whom he offended while he fancied him- 
self most zealously serving him. The 
impression of blight is lieightcned as one 



the only persons one encounters, auswer 
questions civillj', and point out the cross 
perched on a high rock which marks 
the spot where Philip XL's dreadful or- 
ders were carried out, where wretches 
were hanged almost daily beneath the 
lowest bit of rock. Until a few years 
past bits of whitened cord, which crum- 
bled as they were dug up, might still be 
found. 



62 



EUROrE iiV sroR.u and calm. 



A winding road Iietween high I'ocks, 
clothed in brown moss, leads one tii a 
mined sqnare, where a dismantled eluireh 
rears its forlorn front. A few steps \\\> 
a steep hill, beside a wall, bring one to 
a jioint whenee he eau see the F^scnrial, 
with its iiinnense dome, and the four 
gloomy towers rising at the angles. 
Philip II. bnilt this edifice in the mid- 
dle of tlie sixteenth ceutnry, to replace 
the church of Sau Lorenzo, which was 
demolislied by cannon-balls during the 
siege of San (,)uentin. The cynical 
imagination of tlie over-religious archi- 
tects of the iiei'iod could devise no 
better form for this innnense monastic 
palace than that of the gridiron upon 
which the unhap|iy Lawrence suffered 
martyrdom. The four towers are snp- 
l)0scd to reiireseut the feet, and the I'oyal 
apartments the handle, of this frviui;- 
iustrument. Gloomy and unimpressive 
gardens stretch away on all sides to 
stonewalls, which border greenish ponds 
and lakelets. 

The entrance to the edifice is wonder- 
fully impressive. A massive gate leads 
into the great gardens, bringing one face 
to face with a portico of severe simplic- 
ity. At the summit of Dorie columns 
are six mighty caryatids, representing 
the six Kings of Judea, supporting a tri- 
angular jiortal of immense size. Out of a 
block of granite the principal staircase is 
cut. The church, decorated with Luca 
Giordano's daring frescoes, reminds one 
of the many curious freaks of which 
artists were guilty during the decadence 
of the Italian school. Luca's tranquil 
colors and highly executed designs 
show clearlj' the struggles of a great 
artist to rise above the follies and fail- 
ings of his epoch. The rich reliquaries ; 
the delicately chiselled coffers in which 
repose the bones of saints ; the massive 
altar, built of jasper and marble, and 



surrounded with gilded bronze statues of 
Charles V. and Philip II. ; queens and 
infantas, kneeling with closed hands and 
ui)turned eyes ; the stalls in preciouti 
woods ; the missals, filleil with Gothic 
vignettes ; heavily and coarsely decorated 
ceilings — produce an effect of confused 
magnificence. In the small chai)el in the 
rear the eye is dazzled by Benvenuto 
Cellini's incomparable sculpture in white 
marble of " Christ upon the Cross." lu 
the sacristy are innumerable paintings, 
which cliill the imagination, but lead 
one to admire the artists. The painting 
by Claudio Coello, representing the pro- 
cession which received the Holy Host 
sent to Philip by the Emperor of Ger- 
many, is astonishinglj' rich in color. 

Wandering through a labyrinth of 
cold and gloomy corridors one at last 
reaches a little staircase by which he may 
climb to the dome of the Escnrial and 
Ifiok over the vast plain. Far awaj' out 
of an indistinct mass of buildings rises 
the roof of the Royal Palace in JMadrid. 
To the left one sees a dense forest, with 
a few straggling hamlets on its edge, 
and at the base of the monastic palace's 
thick and frowning walls lies a village, 
its precipitous streets paved with stones 
set on end. A few wretched trees strug- 
gle for existence in the market-place. 
At a stone fountain's basin, a bevy of 
laughing girls are filling water-jars, and 
some dejected-looking donkeys are 
greedilv chinking and whisking their 
tails. 

The Pantheon of the Spanish Kings, 
the great vault of tlie Escnrial, where 
lie the mortal remains of the mightj"- 
Charles, of Philip II., III., and IV., 
of Charles II. and Charles III., 
of the Queens Isabella and Margaret, 
and Elizabeth of Bourbon, is an un- 
wholesome cellar, from which one is 
glad to escape into the open air. Even 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



63 



the sublime and pathetic figure of Christ, 
which surmounts one of tlic altars, seems 
to bring no ray of tender hope, no 
blessed promise of immortality, into this 
ro3-al charnel-house. It is impressive 
and repulsive at once to look from the 
present into the past, as one does in 
peering into the sarcophagus of one of 
the greatest of emperors. At the time 
of my visit one could see luider the 
glass lid ^vhieh sealed the coffin of 
Charles V. the body of the royal 
dead man, but iiartially covered by its 
shroud. The face was still in an al- 
most perfect state of preservation. One 
nostril and one of the ears, for the eyes 
had crumbled because of contact with 
the air, when the historic coffin was 
opened, were still visible, and fragments 
of the reddish beard still clung to the 
chin. Philip II. the Terrible is securely 
shut in a black marble sarcophagus, 
ornamented only by a plain plate bear- 
ing his name. One is curious to know 
whether the calm of death gave any 
sweetness to the imperious face of the 
monk and tyrant who scourged Europe 
in the bitterness of his malicious zeal. 

Seeing all his pi'ivate apartments left 
just as they were when he passed into 
the silences, one almost fears to en- 
counter his spectre walking the narrow 



chambers, or seated in the niche which 
permitted him to hear mass without en- 
tering the chapel, muttering his [irayers, 
and nursing his gouty limb, as he sup- 
ported it upon a velvet cushion. One 
could fancy him seated before his little 
wooden table, brooding over the papers 
containing secrets of the state, and 
could almost see his face with grayish- 
blue eyes, with thick and protruding 
under lips, with lean and bony cheeks 
covered with livid skin, with little ears 
which caught the slightest sound, with 
his ugly chin concealed beneath a sym- 
metrical beard ; or one seemed to see 
him musing in his quaint old chair, its 
baclv studded with copper nails, riveted 
in the leathern bands ; and to watch him 
as his hands wander over the breast of 
his velvet doublet feeling for the chap- 
let, which so rarely quitted his person. 
This te;ril)le mocking spectre of 
Philip the Tyrant seems to pursue the 
visitor as he roams through the museum, 
to which an uncivil monk grudgingly 
admits him to look at the paintings by 
Ribera, Jiordans, Bosch, and Tinto- 
retto, and does not quit him until he has 
gained the open air and left the village 
and the monaster}' of the Escurial far 
behind him. 



64 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



CHAPTER SIX. 

In Revolution Time. — Saragossa. — A Quaint Old Spanish City. — The Protest ajainst tlic RcCstab- 
lisliment of Monarchy. — A Vigorous Fight. — The Church of the Virgiu Del Pilar. — On the 
^Vay to Valencia. — Down to the Mediterranean. — Alicante. — The Girao. — Getting into A'alencia 
before the r>ombanlment. — An Adventurous Promenade. — Crossing the Streets under Fire. — 
A Barric;idcd Hotel. — Street Fighting in Earnest. — Ilepu})lican3 and Regulars^ 



MADRID is iisuallv a disa[)poiiit- 
iiicMit to the stranger. Saragossa 
is a revelation. The approaebes to it are 
singularly beantit'ul. Tlie train left me 
outside the walls, and I walked through 
the olive-bordered avenues, fuiding with 
soiue ditticiilty the gate which led into 
the main part of the town. As I ap- 
proached this gate I at once perceived 
that the gt)verument had at last got an 
iron hand on Saragossa. The narrow 
and (plaint streets were crowded with 
soldiers. Ollicers, in their glittering blue 
and red uniforms, passed up and down, 
reviewing little squads of men, who, re- 
ceiving their orders, went out to parade 
to solemn drum-lieats in certain sections. 
It was nine o'clock in the morning, but 
little movement was visible among the 
inhabitants. Sunliurnt figures stood 
here and there beneath the Gothic and 
Moorish door-ways talking quietly to- 
gether ; but when more than half a 
dozen had gathered the soldiers arrived 
and dispersed them. "When Saragossa 
was the caiiital of the kingdom of Ara- 
gon the people manifested the same 
spirit that they had newly shown in this 
insurrection of l.SG'.l, iu saying to their 
king, " AVe, who are your equals and as 
powerful as you. elect you king on the 
condition that you guard our laws and 
our liberties, and tliat there shtill always 
be between you and us some one more 



powerful tlian you ; if not, we will not 
have you." The Aragonese of seven 
hundred years ago understood the value 
of constitutional liberty even better than 
those of to-day, and practised it more 
forcibly. When Augustus Ca»sar came 
to Spaiu he looked upou the then ob- 
scure little town as one destined to a 
famous [ilace in history, and christened 
itCa'sarea Augusta. This, in due time, 
the Goths, when they came to levy con- 
tributions on the then wealthy town, 
called Caisar Agosta ; and later came the 
Arabs, who softened the name into Sar- 
ticosta, but who hardened the manners 
of the people until they were fittest rep- 
resentatives of the haughty rule of the 
Moors in Spain. 

So powerful was the citj' that Charle- 
magne himself trembled when he had 
paused before her gates, and, lifting the 
siege, went away still bleeding from 
the scratches received at Roncesvalles. 
Then came the Christian kings, slowly 
invading Navarre and Ar.agon, and at 
last, by their valor, they captured to 
Catholicism the Zarngoza (pronounced 
Tharagotha) of to-day. In the city 
there are but few hints of modernism, 
such as here and there a noble square, or 
a promenade planted with trees and or- 
namented with statues, or a l.>arrack, 
iu which the soldiers just at this time 
were nndiilv numerous. But these few 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



65 



innovations of modernism were soon 
left behind. I plunged into a labyrinth 
of narrow streets, where overhanging 
roofs nearly kissed each other, and 
where, nevertheless, every house had its 
balconies in the up[)er stories. Antonio, 
smoking a cigarette on his balcony, could 
have tumbled the ashes into the dinner- 
plate of his neighbor, tranquilly eating 
under his awning across the way. The 
shops are all very primitive in their 
character, and some of them Oriental in 
their disdain of modern furniture. Many 
of the houses in the town are so old 
that they are propped up with huge 
beams. The great cathedral of Our 
Lady of the Pillar, known as one of the 
most celebrated Catholic shrines in the 
world, has shown much evidence of 
crumbling, and the devotees nearly died 
of fear lest it might fall during the 
cannonading of the October revolu- 
tion. The history of this church is most 
remarkable. All the inhabitants who 
believe in their religion believe also that 
" Our Lady of the Pillar " was founded 
by St. James, the traditional Santiago, 
forty j-ears only after the beginning of 
this Christian era. The old legend is 
still preserved in these words : " And 
Jesus said, ' My dearly beloved mother, 
I wish you to go to Saragossa, and order 
St. James to erect a temple in your 
honor, where you shall be invoked for 
all time.' " This divinely imposed dut^' 
St. James is supposed to have duly ac- 
complished before his famous pilgrimage 
to Jerusalem, and the church has grown 
to gigantic proportions from the acorn of 
the little chapel and pillar, on which the 
Virgin's figure was raised, so says the 
legend, eighteen hundred years ago. 
The dark-eyed women, as well as the 
lame, lousy, and dirty old beggars, of 
Saragossa all daily kiss a little piece of 
wood fixed' in the cathedral wall, and 



said to be the only fragment left of 
the real pillar. Around this church, 
which stands not far from tlie banks 
of the Ebro, was some desperate fight- 
ing in this October struggle, and the 
blood-stains in several corners were still 
visible at the time of my visit. 

Here, as in Valencia and elsewhere, 
the collision between the peasantry, who 
had invaded the town, and the soldiers 
representing the monarchical govern- 
ment, was brought on exclusiveh' by the 
demand of the soldiers that the peasants 
should lay down their arms. Most of 
the peasants had been successful in their 
determination to retain their weapons, 
and had retired with all the honors of 
war. But a few had been taken, and 
the picture of the march of these prison- 
ers through mute, solemn Saragossa 
clings in my memory-. The people had 
postponed the festival annually held to 
honor their patron saint, because the 
aroma of blood still lingered over the 
town. At the very portals of their 
church were dark stains, telling of 
human sacrifices. At the Duke's gate 
curious crowds were lingering, wild- 
eyed, round the spot where a general 
and a dozen soldiers had fallen, pierced 
bj' the bullets fired by workmen from a 
priest's house. The government of 
General Prim was disdainfully releasing 
the few prisoners which it had taken. 
In front marched a dozen stalwart sol- 
diers bronzed, dirty, and fierce ; behind 
straggled perhaps two hundred insurrec- 
tionists, their wives running beside them, 
embracing them or weeping in silent joy. 
A weird, fantastic set were these fellows, 
with a tiuge of the old Arabic blood in 
their veins. The government had given 
them back their long knives, which were 
thrust in their sashes, or served to pin the 
knots of the gayly colored handkerchiefs 
which covered their heads. They shuffled 



6i 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



forward to the graiul ji!((i<i, and liofore 
the famous Convent of .lenisalein, where 
Spain's most beautiful daughters spend 
their lives in honoring the Virgin, 
thoy were drawn up in grim order, 
ragged as Falstatf's army. With dis- 
grace and with rage in their swarthy 
faces they listened to the order which 
forhade them, under heavy penalties, to 
take up arms again, and then shandiled 
away to the churches to kneel and 
silently pray for one more chance. 
Those of the inhabitants of Saragossa, 
the veritable citizens of the city, who 
had participated in tlje liglit, did not es- 
cape so easily. New arrests were con- 
stantly going on, and. when I left, the 
towns-people scarcely dared to open their 
shops. Nearly all the i)roud Aragonese 
who were wounded to the death in the 
second day's fighting managed to crawl 
to their houses and die at home, [irond 
of having saved, their bodies from the 
soldiers. One man, woundetl in a 
dozen places, ci'awled mi to the roof of 
his domicile, and maintained from it a 
deadly fire upon the soldiers until he 
had slain seven. When at last he felt 
death's hand at his throat he jumped 
down into the street, falling heavily 
upon the piled-up stones, and was used 
as au additional bi'eastwork or a barri- 
cade for his companions. This barri- 
cade, near the Duke's gate, resisted the 
fire of artillery for nearly two hours. 
Those same men who leaped upon the 
cannons, knife in hand, when they were 
forced to retreat to the barricades, 
heaped up the stones and beams as fast 
as they were torn down liy the shots. 

At Saragossa it is the custom, as in 
some [)arts of the Orient, to allow luna- 
tics, who are not positively uncontrol- 
lable, to wander about the streets, min- 
gling freely with the sane. The custom 
of making prisoners of God's unfor- 



tiniate has not crcjit into this half- 
barliaric country. On the evening of the- 
first uprising in Saragossa a party of 
insane jiecjile were passing through the 
streets with the straw which they had 
been taught to plait into mats and 
jianniers. One of them, to whom I had 
the honor of being presented during my 
stay in the town, had been excited by 
the news of the fighting, and had been 
seen a number of times in the thick of 
the fray. 

More fighting was impossible in Sara- 
gossa. The soldiers swarmed every- 
where, and I desired to press on to 
Catalonia. But the railway agents re- 
fused c ticket to Barcelona, saying that 
the road was open only half-way. The 
rebels had that very morning burned for 
the second time a railway bridge, and 
strolling bands along the line had com- 
mitted numerous crimes. The last local 
trains had narrowly escaped stoppage, 
and I was compelled to return to Madrid. 
Six of the revolutionary Saragossa news- 
])U|)ers had been suppressed ; the oflicial 
journals gave only glaring lies about the 
insurrection, and I returned to the ca[)- 
ital convinced that all the interest now 
centred on Barcelona and Valencia. 

At Madrid the news from Valencia 
was meagre. The sweet Mediterranean 
town, the city of the Cid, surrounded by 
lovely gardens and luxuriant fields, was- 
kiiowu to be in the hands of the in- 
surrectionists, and the authorities had 
threatened a siege. J^very morning a 
l^ierturlied crowd waited at the railway 
station to hear the news, and each day 
they retired unsatisfied. Prim had 
su|ii)ressed even private telegrams. The 
journals were ominously silent, but the 
military trains were laden. " Im[iossi- 
ble to go there by rail," said one. •• Im- 
possible to go at all," said another. 
" Bombarded two days ago,"' said those 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



67 



who should hiive been well-informed. 
" lu possession of the insurgents," still 
asserted the equally reliable. This much 
was known : The rebels were at least 
eighteen thousand strong in a city of two 
hundred thousand peo[>le ; had taken tlie 
great market-phiee ; h;ul installed them- 
selves therein, and refused to be ousted. 
What were they ? A mad mass of infu- 
riated towns-people, who 1;iy stratagem 
had possessed the greater part of the 
town, torn up the pavements, and re- 
fused to yield. Headed by the repuliliean 
deputy Guerrero, they were well armed 
and equipped. At first eight thousand 
troops had gone forward, next twelve 
thousand, — many said sixteen thousand, 
— under General Alamenos. I took the 
evening train for Eueina, whence a 
branch line leads to Valencia. 

The memories of the next few days 
rise vividly before me. I can see the 
mass (jf staring faces at tlie railway sta- 
tion, as, in company with him of famous'' 
Abyssinian and African prestige, whose 
name is like a j)erfume to all lovers of 
journalistic enteri)rise, I take my place 
in the night express, bound for the shores 
of the Mediterranean. This is my first 
meeting with Stanley, and a strange one, 
with the spirit of competition lightly 
roused, so as to bring into our acquaint- 
ance just that spice of jealousy which 
makes us both alert. In the train are 
parents, and husbands, and brothers 
going to Valencia, to bring loved ones 
away from the horrors which are always 
associated with a Spanish siege. So we 
fare forward, past Aranjnez, where there 
is a noble royal residence and town, to 
Albacete. As morning dawns, with that 
glorious poetry of sky only known in 
Spain, we come into the wonderful region 
of paradoxes between Albacete and Al- 
raansa. Imagine fertile fields stretching 
miles along the railway line, but framed 



in the backgrounds by mountains barren 
as the pyramids, acclivities that rise 
superb above yawning precipices. 

The vinej'ards are numerous, and dark- 
haired, bare-limbed women are plucking 
the iiurplish-lilue clusters of grajiesfrom 
dwarf vines, that Ixnid heavily under the 
pressure of the vintage. At many points 
huge rocks, rising in perpetual affront 
to heaven, are crowned with castles, 
which, in the sun's golden haze, seem to 
melt their outlines into tlie net-wf>rk of 
nature, and to be but a freak of her fancy. 
The well-made roads, smooth, white, 
and suffocatingly dusty, trend awaj' in 
serpentine curves to the bases of the 
mountain rocks, and are bordered at long 
distance by low houses, whose white walls 
and tiled roofs glitter in the sun. The 
muleteers and the peasant women are 
singing, or rather droning, while they 
ride or work, and naked children disport 
in the glow of the morning without 
shame. The costume of tlie peasants 
along tlie route is at first quiet in color 
and sober in arrangement ; but, as we 
draw towards the south and the sea, it is 
scarlet, and green, and yellow, in glaring 
contrast, and falling in graceful folds 
close to the form. 

At seven in the morning we come to 
Encina, a small junction just below the 
large town of Almansa, where the Va- 
leucian railway Vtranches off . Here there 
are hordes of soldiers, and on the moun- 
tains we can see the vic/ilantes protecting 
the railway. The wild-looking peasants 
come up with sneering curiosity, if any 
inquiry be made about ^'^alencia, to say 
that the Republicans have captured it 
long ago, and that they will never sur- 
render. But the railway to Valencia is 
not ill order. No trains liave passed for 
several days, and skirmishing along the 
line is frequent. Is there no wa3' to send 
a message, or to go to Valencia? Yes ! 



(58 



ECROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



AVe may go to Alicante, and along the 
Mediterranean coast; from Alicante a 
steamer will sail that afternoon. So we 
lake a wheezy train upon the branch 
railway, and are sDon among the palm- 
trees. Towards ten o'clock we pass into 
a huge ravine lietween two ledges of jag- 
ged rock, the railway rinining on a nar- 
row Ijank. We see lieyond, at the opening, 
a liridge over a yawning chasm ami a 
host of figures clustering around it. The 
train comes to a halt. The engineer 
goes liack to talk to the guard, and half 
an hour is lost before it is decided that 
the figures must be those of soldiers 
rather than of insurgent enemies. We 
move slowly into the midst of a company 
of the civil guard, who have improvised a 
habitation of boughs at the bridge's side, 
and are watching the structure night and 
day. At last, as we are leaving a little 
station among the mountains, we turn a 
curve, and before us lies the placid Jled- 
iterrauean, its purple water rippling softly 
to the shores, and in the distance is a 
huge acclivity, arounil whose top hovers a 
glorious breezy wreatb of mist, — -one of 
those fragrant licaven breaths, to which 
only the waves of the Mare Tiirrlicivon 
(xquor can give shape and substance. 

Below lies Alicante in the slumlirous 
noon. Along the coast, where the sleepy 
surf comes rolling slowl}' in, are groves 
of palm. Barelegged fishermen are push- 
ing out their 'boats. The long quay, 
guarded by soldiers, runs out to sea ; and 
at the base edge towers a gigantic rock 
with its antique Jloorish citadel. Here 
we find that the lioat will leave for A^a- 
lencia at three o'clock, also that tlie light- 
ing has been brisk there for the last two 
da3's ; now a sarreuder is talked of. 
Meantime, in the port, we find a noble 
bark, of American build, the WUUam 
Wilvox of New York, commanded by 
Philip Johnson, of New Bedford ; and. 



visiting it, receive gracious attention 
from the stanch capiain and his young 
wife, whose first trip beyond seas is to 
agitated Spain. 

As we steam out of the port tliat after- 
noon, in a boat crowded with Spanish 
offleers going to the front, the American 
banner flutters up to the mast-head of 
the William Wilcox and down again in 
graceful salute to us, much to the aston- 
ishment of all the olive-complexioned, 
jauntily uniformed Spaniards round 
about us. Nest morning the boat is 
lying in the harbor of V.alencia. 

The Grao, Valencia's port of entry, is 
three miles from the city itself, and has 
a well-sheltered harbor, with a little town 
built along its banks. Wo land at seven 
o'clock, and find the streets crowded 
wit'u men, women, and children, whom 
fright has forced out of Valencia. Tlie 
carriages which usually run from the 
port to the city are drawn up in a long 
line, near the avenue leading to the en- 
trance, and it is with difHcnlty that we can 
prevail on tlie driver to take us so far as 
the outer line of the siege. " The firing 
is to commence at eight," he says. '■ We 
should hardly reach there before then, 
and we miglit be shot b^y the insiirrectos." 
For eight days the fighting has been 
growing more severe daily. AVho are 
masters of the situation? The iiisur- 
rertos^ decidedly. 

We drive up a long avenue bordered 
with sycamores. On our way we pass 
many women weeping bitterl^y, and liend- 
ing almost double under the hastily 
prepared l_)urdens of tlieir household 
goods. This seems to indicate that the 
bombardment is beginning, and the bare 
suggestion of this so frightens our driver 
that he refuses to go farther, aud, turn- 
ing his horse's nose to the hedge, invites 
us to get out. Nothing can persuade 
him, and we find ourselves in a hubbub 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



69 



of cavalry and infantry, teams loaded 
witli furniture, going out under flags of 
truce, and hundreds of people sitting by 
the roadside, their faces turned in listen- 
ing attitude towards the town. A com- 
pany of Lancers gallops up to us, gives us 
a suspicious glance, and passes on. Fi- 
nall}' wc are told to ask permission of a 
certain olHcer to pass into the town. He 
shrugs his shoulders to his ears, spreads 
out his hands, says he will not hinder us, 
and we pass in, carrying our own baggage. 
Our first idea is to seek the Fonda de 
Paris, — a well-known hotel, standing in 
the Calls del Mar (the street of the sea) , 
where we think we can learn how far it 
will be safe for us to go. We look for 
some one to take our baggage, and show 
us the wa}' ; but every person apijealed 
to makes a frightened face, says that the 
firing has beguu, and that it is unsafe. 
The suspense of waiting in this mass of 
humanity is unbearable. At last we 
appeal to a dare-devil-looking boy, who, 
without comments, takes up the travel- 
ling-liags, and goes forward. We are 
continually jostled by soldiers, running 
from point to point, dodgiug behind cor- 
ners, casting suspicious glances at win- 
dows or balconies above. We have now 
entered a labyrinth of narrow streets, 
like those I bad seen at Saragossa. The 
brave bo}', who runs ahead of us, bend- 
ing under the weight of our baggage, 
stops short, and compresses his lips, as 
he' hears a sharp thud around the corner, 
and sees the soldiers rusliing back. We 
are in the midst of a guerilla warfare, 
where shots are fired from balconies and 
from house-tops ; where a chance bullet 
may meet us, and send life vaporing 
before we can defend ourselves. From 
time to time the boy halts, says huskily, 
'■^ Fuecjo" (firing), and then, like a little 
lion at bay, turns anew to seek another 
route to the Fonda de Paris. 



At last we come into a long, narrow 
avenue, leading to a square. vSud- 
denly we are pulled into a door by a 
friendly citizen, and the ]wy turns pale; 
but my companion, who has seen battles 
numerous, tram[)s on ahead, and we follow. 

We arrive in the square. We hear 
the dull roar away up in the city, and 
the ping of wandering bullets. People 
follow us with their gaze ; but, at the 
entrance of another long avenue, we 
hear above us, at the windows, hands 
softly clapped, and soft hisses. Again 
the boy turns, almost crying with fright 
and determination. Wc cross the square ; 
we try another street, and push on des- 
perately. We hear shooting close at 
baud. We enter still another square. 
Here great preparations are going on. 
Soldiers crowd the side opposite us, but 
there is one yawning gap, — the entrance 
to a street, which no one enters, and no 
one stands in front of. We are in the 
Plaza de la Cougregacion. A soldier 
stares at us. He sees w^e are foreigners, 
and says, in broken French, " Grand 
Dieu 1 Don't go across the square, or 
you will be shot." But while he is talk- 
ing my comrade and the boy step bravely 
across the square, and I rush after them. 
A soldier at the corner raises his musket 
warningly. What is it? Something be- 
yond the corner. 

A barricade ! 

To reach the hotel we .must brave this 
barricade. We cannot stay in the street, 
so we make three leaps ; and, as Stanley 
turns the corner of the little avenue 
which leads behind the hotels, three bul- 
lets fly past, and strike in the Valencia 
Bank windows. We are hurried into a 
back door, amid a crowd of soldiery, 
and a little French landlord comes for- 
ward to congratulate us on our escape ; 
for the insurgents had sworn to shoot 
any one who crossed that street. 



70 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



We press the poor lioy's hand, and 
cannot Imt admire him. He talces sliel- 
ter with us for a short time. 

This ineident illustrates well the manner 
of the sii'ge, and the struggle which has 
been in progress seven days when we 
arrive ; not a siege with artillery at long 
distance, nor one where lines are dis- 
tinctly drawn, but one where every street 
and house are beleaguered. This ave- 
nue, for instance, is narrow, long, and 
straight. At its end is a barricade, and 
in the houses on each side are at least 
six hundred soldiers. This is repeated 
two or three streets further on ; but away 
up in the city's centre, in the great mar- 
ket-place, and the twenty-eight streets 
leading from it, the Kepublicaus bold 
everything. Long-range shooting is all 
that they have to fear. Every i)rivute 
house is a fortress, insurgent or govern- 
mental. The landlord takes us over the 
hotel, shows us furniture riddled with bul- 
lets, and his mattresses all in use, to pro- 
tect the soldiers who occupy his balconies. 
The side windows look on the liarricade, 
and near them soldiers are crouching 
expectant. This is in the first story. 
In the next still more destruction : mir- 
rors smasiied, curtains in shreds, and 
tables in fragments. "We are given a 
room ou the third floor, fronting on the 
street we have just crossed. "We open 
our window cautiously, and look across 
the way. The large stone building is the 
Valencian Credit Institution. Soldiers 
are firing from the balconies of this bank, 
and dodging the bullets from the barri- 
cade. In the square below, tlu'ough 
which we have just come, a regiment 
is quietly arriving. 

The Valeneiau Republicans, including 
the mountaineers, who have come down 
from tlicir honies to protest against the 
restoration of monarchy, are from twelve 
to fifteen thousand strong, commanded 



by a Republican deputy lately withdrawn 
from the Cortes. In and around the 
town are ten thousand irregular troops. 
General Alamenos commauding. Don 
Francis de la Riviera, captain-general, 
is a vacillating old man, full of much 
caution. 'J'he sub-commandant, Don 
Martin Rosales, is energetic, so says 
our landlord ; adding that the fight which 
has lasted so long may continue for 
weeks, or, so strange are the caprices 
of insurrection in Spain, may be ended 
in ten minutes. 

The Republicans here, as in Saragossa, 
are mostly j^ryVom.s, or peasants. They 
are all of one type, with swartliy faces, 
olive complexions, strong liml)s, and are 
clad in a curious costume, trousers reacli- 
ing only to the knee, long hose, and san- 
dals of undressed hide. A handkerchief 
is bound about their heads, and huge 
blankets of brilliant coloring are slung 
across their shoulders. They never wear 
coats, hats, or boots, and are so sun- 
burnt that they look like their African 
neighbors, or like the Apaches of our 
American [ilaius. 

The barricades are only shoulder high, 
made of a double row of paving-stones, 
and protected at the top liy a few beams 
and well-filled sacks of sand or grain. 
But there are so many, each corner being 
made available, that e^'cn were the sol- 
diery to reduce one, as, for instance, this 
before our street, they would have to 
take twenty, forty, or fifty behind it be- 
fore tliev could possess the town. The 
dull, dead roar, that breaks in now and 
then on the comparative silence at each 
end of Valencia, comes from the outside, 
whence General Alamenos is throwing 
shell into a l.iarricade. Now and then a 
shot from a rebel cannon comes whizzing 
into the siiuare, on whicli we can look, 
and we can see coiifusi(,>n among the sol- 
diers, and sometimes a faintly palpitat- 



EUROPE LV STOR.V AXD CAL}f. 



71 



ing mass, from which surges life-blood, 
staining the canvas thrown over it. By 
and liv a great number of troops are 
massed in the plaza, and we hear inces- 
sant bullet-firing from the adjacent bar- 
ricade. In the square the buglers are 
sounding the charge, and Prim's Hunters 
— the scum of Madrid, yet the most dar- 
ing soldiery in S|iain : reckless devils in 
dirt}' uniforms, with straw sandals to 
their stockiugless feet — come up slowly 
into line. Other companies fall in be- 
hind, and it is plain that we are to have 
a battle. All this time the soldiers do 
not face death at the barricade in our 
street. They mass together in front of 
the college in the plaza, and two bat- 
talions go charging towards the centre 
of the town. Those who come running 
back wounded bring stories of the bar- 
ricades. Irresolute, all go on. The 
government volunteers, the small por- 
tion of the mountaineers who have not 
taken part in the insurrection, have been 
captured in a body, and their noses have 
been cut off, their ears slit, and their 
bodies piled on the barricades. So the 
survivors come back trembling with fear, 
bearing their dead on litters and crossed 
muskets, and it is getting gradually 
towards dusk. 

As the church clocks are striking 
seven the senior bishop of the diocese 
and some of the city authorities go to 
General Alaraenos with a flag of truce, 
and pray for some arrangement to stay 
the flow of blood. The connnission is 
received with the greatest kindness bv 
Alamenos ; but in their passage through 
the streets the would-be peacemakers are 
saluted with hisses from many of the bar- 
ricades. No arrangement is reached, 
and the commission goes back late in the 
evening, mortified and alarmed. So we 
must wait the morrow in our fortress, 



and meantime get a retrospect of the 
seven previous days. 

As soon as the order commanding 
tiie restoration of arms by the Republi- 
cans to the military authorities is made 
Guerrero, the Republican seceder from 
the Cortes, visits the captaiu-general, and 
tells him that he must be responsible for 
any acts of violence provoked by the 
order. The barricades rise as if by 
magic, and four attacking columns, 
formed by the military authorities, on 
the next morning, the 8th of October, 
start by difl'erent routes for the great 
market-square, where the insurrection- 
ists are in possession. The troops suf- 
fer severel}' by the hostile fire from the 
houses along the way, and are almost 
inclined to retreat. But they succeed in 
lilacing artillery in another square, that 
of Santa Catalena, not far from the mar- 
ket, and demolish one barricade. Upon 
this the sharp-shooters pick off the 
officers until there is absolutely none left 
to command, and the artillery retreat in 
disorder. 

A second attack follows, for the gov- 
ernment forces are confident of easy vic- 
tory ; but they arc soon convinced to 
the contrary. A bravo meets the 
colonel of the first advancing regi- 
ment, and discharges a revolver into 
his face. Irregular fii'ing then begins 

c> o o 

from the houses on all sides, and a sec- 
ond retreat follows. Yet the same col- 
umns finally rally and get possession of 
the telegraph offices, not far from the 
Bourse ; from thence they traverse the 
streets behind the market under an ap- 
palling fire from windows and from the 
roofs. They succeed in occupying one 
or two of these streets, but soon find 
themselves besieged instead of besiegers, 
as the Republicans have shut them in on 
everv side. 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



CHAPTER SEVEN. 

The Nine Days' Fight in Valencia. — ALiracnos and the Bomliarthnent. — Tlic Insur^ent^ and their 
Tactics. — Departure of the Consuls. —Picturesque and Eomjintic Episode. — An Interrupted 
lireaki'ast. — Meeting of the Brotlicrs. — Tlie Eud of the Struggle. — Scenes in the Marlvet-place. — 
In the Cathedr.al after the Battle. — Castelar and his Endeavors for Liberty. — Spanish Politics 
since 1869. — Spanish Characteristics. — The Keligious Passion Plays. — The S>dilinie and the 
Ridiculous in Religion. 



THE thinl struggle, on the 8th of Oc- 
t(»ber, occurs wheu six cotupauies 
attempt to occiii)y the theatres aud to 
approaeli the market. The seventh de- 
tachment, cousisting of two hundred 
men, comes up an hour afterwards, — the 
artillery firing over them, — to carry by 
assault two barricades in the small streets 
leading into the market. The battle 
continues after dark, and is horrible. 
Seventy-five or eighty soldiers are killed 
during the last half-hour, and this awa- 
kening the authorities to the fact that 
resistance to the death is determined on, 
they draw off tiie Itadly cut-up troojjs, 
and concentrate them during the nieht 
at ten different points, four of which are 
in the immediate neighborhood of the 
Fonda de Paris, and a fifth, the Fonda 
itself. It is said that tliere were eight 
lumdred soldiers killed in the first day's 
fighting. 

Tliis may be exaggerated, although 
the American consul thought he could 
verify it The 9tli brings no fighting, 
but irregular firing all day, the troops 
being too much disorganized to move. 
On the 10th couriers are sent to Ali- 
cante and to Madrid to demand re- 
inforcements, aud the slaughter by the 
firing from both sides is kept up irregu- 
larly until evening, when large reinforce- 
ments arrive. On tile lltli forces pour 
in bv steamers and march over the 



broken rail routes. They are fouglit 
desperately on the outskirts of the city, 
and there is mucli slaughter. The 12th, 
i;}th, and 14th see no actual encounter, 
but on the night of the 12th a party of 
daring Republicans having attempted a 
surprise, they are fallen on and massa- 
cred. On tlie l-tth Alamenos, receiving 
extensive reinforcements, is ready for 
the reduction of the city. Then comes 
the Peace Commission on the 15th, as 
allf.ded to. 

Sixty officers were killed in the seven 
days before our arrival, and many of 
them were great losses to the Spanish 
army. Prim's volunteers and one or 
two other fine regiments wei'c badly cut 
up. I saw, after the surrender, a group 
of them pointing out the ambnscade 
where several of their comrades had been 
killed. And we had arrived at the ninth 
day of this terrible episode of civil war. 

All niglit the insurgents watcli in the 
barricades ; all night the soldiers sleep on 
their arms. Alamenos has got the tele- 
graph working to Madrid, and its tem- 
porary station erected in a bull-ring, aud 
receives news that fresh troops will be 
on baud in tlie morning. New pleas for 
caution come from the timid Cortes in 
Madrid ; but the generals now announce 
as sure to take [ilace at ten o'clock on the 
ninth day, if surrender is not accom- 
plished by that time, the bombardment 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



73 



< 

O 




74 



EVRorf: rx storm and calm. 



wliicli was tlireatenod when we arrived. 
We can now go im our baleonies with 
little fear ; hostilities are by mutual eon- 
sent suspended after sunset. The rougli 
mountaineers llirow themselves on the 
sands and sleep, and the soldiers of the 
government are only too glad of respite. 
An odor of dead bodies is perceptible on 
the night air. For eight days the streets 
have not been cleaned ; and in many 
places bodies are lying in heaps as they 
fell. Kow and tiien a strange light 
flares up the sky over towards the mar- 
ket-place. It comes from some burning 
house fired by the troops. In tlie [>ale 
moonliglit we sometimes catch a gleam 
of tlie white folds of a flag of truce, pre- 
ceding a load of household stores ; some- 
times a white-bonneted sister of eliarity 
glides by, bearing a heavy bundle of 
lint and l)andages. In the plaza the 
old captain-general sits, near tlie foun- 
tain, smoking, and earnestly discussing 
the situation witli a few officers. 

We sleef) soundly that nighe; even the 
tramp of soldiers through the corridors 
does not awaken us. Morning dawns, 
fiery-red, warm, almost airless. At 
.seven we look out. As far as we can 
see, nothing liut compact masses of 
soldiers. The commotion is intense. 
Ah ! there is the British flag, upheld by 
the English consul. The English resi- 
dents are leaving the town in proces- 
sion, under a flag of truce. The consul 
shakes the captain-general's hand, and 
bids him farewell, rresently come the 
women and children. Each one bears 
those of theii' household possessions 
which they can ill-afford to leave behind. 
By and l)y the French consul comes to 
our hotel for the delegation of Frenchmen 
who wish to leave. The bombardment is 
to begin in half anhour. From the bank 
opposite, officers look out and direct 
their men. I'lUgles sound everwhcre. 



The deadly street is vacant once more. 
Flags of truce now ap[iear, and it is aji- 
parent that a parley is going to be held. 

Crash ! a tremendous volley breaks 
from the barricade. Suddenly several 
prisoners are lirought into the square, 
and kicked lirutally along towards the 
prison. It is eight o'clock, and the first 
flag of truce is to be sent to the barri- 
cades. An ofl^cer commands a soldier 
to go forward with the white emblem of 
conciliation. The mau hesitates. '■^An- 
da ' " (Go on ! ) , says the officer, striking 
him with his sword-hilt At last the man 
moves. A bullet whizzes past him : still 
he goes on. He is met half-way uj) the 
street by a tall, swarthy youth with 
coal-black flowing hair. The two wind 
the flag, which is a sheet, around their 
shoulders, and thus insurgent and be- 
sieger, with true Spanish sense of the 
graceful and a-sthetie, come back together 
to the square. 

The reliel bows gracefull}- to the offi- 
cers, listens to the terms i)roposed, — 
"surrender without conditions,"- — un- 
winds himself out of the sheet, and tuins 
on his heel to go back. As soon as he 
reaches the barricade defiance in flame 
and bullets bursts from the rifles of the 
men. 

Another truce ; and now it is again 
announced that if surrender is not ef- 
fected at ten o'clock bomliardnient will 
bo continued until every stone is blown 
from every barricade. At the same 
time a charge of five thousand troops is 
arranged to come u|i thmugli each 
street. The thunder in the market-place 
grows louder and louder. 

We wait anxiously until ten. The 
insurgents are now firing round shot, 
and chips of stone, heavy enough for 
two men to lift, fly from the Valeucian 
Bank's handsome front. Despite these 
formidalile missiles the fat old sub-com- 



EUROPE ly STORM AND CALM. 



75 



mandant walks across the street, shield- 
ing his belt so that the rebels cannot see 
it, buttoning his coat, and waving an- 
other white flag. It seems almost as if 
we were the besieged. 

But the sappers and miners, although 
we do not know it, are getting into the 
town's centre, and if we could get news 
in our hostelry, we should learn that 
eight hundred or one thousand insurgents 
have already fled. Alamenos therefore 
counsels his artillery-men to have 
patience. At eleven an attack is or- 
ganized in our square, and just as we 
are wild with excitement, in anticipation 
of a battle under our very noses, there 
is a knock at our door. Are we to be 
compelled to fly ? 

No, indeed ! It is the cheeky little 
French landlord, pen in hand, saying, 
" Gentlemen, breakfast is ready." 

In the barricaded dining-room one 
window is open, and through it we see 
at least one thousand soldiers crowding 
through a big hole. We snatch some 
bread and wine, and rush back to our 
rooms to hear and see what we may. A 
wild rush of soldiery, a sound like rapid 
hammering on some hollow substance, are 
followed by cheers too tremulous to be in- 
spiring, but rather husky ; and, horrified, 
we look out at the risk of our heads. 
The charge is over : the soldiers have 
vanished up a side street. Thej- could 
not take the barricade in front. Six 
men there could keep six hundied at 
baj', and the bloody litters coming back 
testify to the steadiness of the aim of 
those mountaineers who boast that they 
can kill a pigeon with a rifle-ball. 

Again a lull. One, two, three 
o'clock 1 At least twenty flags of truce 
Lave been exchanged. Whj' does not 
the bombardment begin in earnest? All 
at once, as the liour of four approaches, 
there is a simultaneous rush of people 



and soldiers from the square. The sun- 
burnt fellows in the windows opposite 
us brandish their guns with Spanish 
enthusiasm. Can it be that the town 
has surrendered? The barricade is 
covered with soldiers, but they are not 
fighting. Heaven and earth cannot keep 
the cuiiosity of mortals suppressed in 
such a case. We rush downstairs. The 
insurgents at the barricade have sur- 
rendered, — conditions, that they be 
allowed to go free ; and the soldiers are 
knocking down the stones with the butts 
of their muskets. We go out and are 
borne along in the press, reaching the 
spot which, twentv minutes before, five 
thousand soldiers could not have faced. 
A rare and dramatic incident, not with- 
out its frequent parallel in our own civil 
war, is the cause of surrender here. 
The soldiers make the attack, and are 
falling rapidly, when the leader of the 
insurgents hears a familiar voice. He 
leaps forward and stands amid the 
whistling bullets. His brother, whom 
he has not ssen for eight years, is calling 
to him. That brother's voice brings the 
black-haired insurrectionist to the ground 
outside the barricade. He leaps among 
the soldiers, clasps his brother in his 
arms, and weeps and laughs by turns. 
The insurgents stand irresolute, and the 
key-note of the siege and surrender of 
Valencia has jieen struck. The govern- 
ment soldier tells his brother, captain of 
the insurgents, to withdraw his men and 
they shall all go free. " I mj'self," says 
he, with a charming lack of discipline, 
'• will respond for their liberty." The 
two brothers, arm in arm, sit down upon 
the curb-stone to look each other in the 
face, and to recover their senses. 

The word that the outer barricade has 
surrendered has passed up into the town, 
yet there is a violent resistance at the 
next one beyond. When we reach it. 



76 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



at half-past four, the soldiers are Imikl- 
iuc; fires to burn out the blcod-stains. 
Carefully we go round corners, where a 
few moments before we had h?ard 
firing, only to see the proud Republican 
peasants marching away with their heads 
erect, an<l tlieir rifles tightly grasped iu 
their hands. At times that day the 
market-place of Valencia had been a hell 
upon earth. At five iu the afternoon 
we are standing among the iusurgeuts 
in its centre, and not a shot is fired. 
The Exchange is filled with temporary 
prisoners, who can hardly be persuaded 
to lay down their arms ; but as fast as 
they do deliver tliem up the soldiers 
t.ake them, and pile them iu the cellars 
of the strongest houses. The mountain- 
eers are not to be urged to surrender 
their rifles, as they might renew the 
struggle if pressed too hard for con- 
ditions. The grand old church of San 
Juan is frightfully scarred and torn. 
The huge portal over tlie statue of the 
Virgin is rent almost iu twain. The 
scattered trees in the market-place are 
• cut in two. A wooden building is as 
full of holes as a sieve. The great 
fountain is almost ruined. There are 
ten or fifteen barricades in a straight line 
throngii the place. Tlie streets radiat- 
ing from it are very narrow, and each one 
is doulily and trebly fortilied. It seems 
as if no force could have ever taken 
the position without first destroying the 
town by shell. 

The citizens, so long imprisoned, 
those iu the centre not having been alile to 
fl^' from tlie expected bombardment, run 
to aud fro. The first thought of the in- 
surgents seems to lie for food. They 
almost crush the bakers who dare to 
open their shops. Many soldiers share 
their rations with them. How the insur- 
gents managed to live for nine days is a 
mystery. Soldiers pulling down the 



stones on the barrieadi'S have their 
mouths filled with bread. 

At an angle in the market-place is a 
little street where a sharp corner had 
been availed of as a chance for avery high 
barricade. Peering through a rent in it 
I see a most affecting scene : an old man, 
neatly dressed, is standing in the midst 
of the insurgents, who have just thrown 
down their arms, clasping the hands of a 
slight boy, whose face is pale with ex- 
citement. Aroiuid the boy's head is 
wound a red handkerchief. On the 
ground lies a huge cavalry revolver, to 
whicli the l>oy is pointing with excited 
gestures. The ohl man is crazy to get 
his loved one — son, or ward, or employe 
— out of the horrible place, and urges him 
to retire, while the little fellow insists 
upon lingering to tell the story of his 
battle. 

Blood runs afresh iu the market-place, 
liut it is now from the tiutehors" cleavers. 
Half-starved pi.'ople surround the stands 
iu the meat-market, and stalwart fellows 
slay, and cut, and cut again, until they 
are exhausted. "On Sunday," says 
the merchant accoi^.ipanying us, '• the 
same insurrectionists who have fought 
here will couk- in market-carts to offer 
their farm produce at the high price 
caused by the insurrection." 

I have dwelt thus upon this nine 
days' insurrection in Valencia, because it 
is in a certain way tyiiical of all the 
civil struggles which occur in Spain, in 
its picturesque features ; but also be- 
cause it is entitle(l to a place in history, 
as being founded upon a vigorous pro- 
test against kingship. It was too full 
of dignity at its outbreak to be consid- 
ered as a mere riot, and too grand aud 
thrilling towards its close to tie called 
even a battle. There were more than 
one thousand people killed during the 
nine days' fighting, and three times that 



EUROPE rx STORM AXD CALM. 



77 



numlier seriously wounded. The Rupub- 
Ucanofi quite astonislied the Monarchists, 
who fancied that they could so easily 
reestablish what they consider the natu- 
ral order of things after the uprising of 
1868. These simple peasants awed and 
astonished the constitutional govern- 



cians can never be forgotten. Alanienos 
could have crushed them with bombs ; 
but he could never have taken the town 
so long as they remained alive. Their 
protest over, they withdrew with that 
dignity which is one of the imposing 
elements in the Spanish character. On 




MOUNTAINEERS GOING HOME AFTER THE SIEGE. 



meut. They neither sacked nor wantonly 
injured the beautiful Valeucian mansions, 
some of which are almost fairy-like in 
their gorgeous sijleudor, with fronts of 
alabaster, carved in ornate and fantastic 
designs, and with marble, jasper, por- 
phyry, precious or costly stones, in their 
interior decorations. As a sublime 
democratic protest against monarchy of 
any hue the struggle of these Yalen- 



the morning after the surrender we saw- 
regiments marching into the mountains, 
and were told that great numbers of 
arrests would be made) But we fancied 
that our lively friends, who had done so 
well behind the barricades, would know 
how to get out of the reach of Alamenos 
and his men when their feet were on 
their native heaths. 

Castelar was not discouraged at the 



78 



ECROrE IS STORM AXD CALM. 



failure of X\w revdhitioii which he had 
been instrumental in fomenting. X 
brief sketch of his political career and 
of Spanish politics from those wild days 
of 18G9 until the advent of Alfonso may 
not be out f>f place here. C'astelar con- 
tinued to sit in the Corte.s, where he was 
one of the most formidal)le members of 
tiie opposition to the reactionary policy 
of the Regent Serrano. In the trouliies 
which came upon France in consequence 
of her indiscreet interference in the can- 
didateship of the I'rinct^ Leoi)old \'ou 
HolienzoUern for the throne of Spain, 
Castelar manifested his Kepublican sym- 
pathies in the most straightforward 
and uncompromising manner. When he 
heard of the revolution which broke out 
in Paris after tiie fall of Sedan, and 
which resulted in the declaration of the 
Republic, he drew up and signed witii the 
Repulilican minority in the Cortes an ad- 
dress which was sent to the government 
of National Defense, saluting in it the 
triumjih of law and the inauguration of 
a new era of })eace and liberty for all 
Europe. In the following October he 
even went t(j Tours, where Gamljetta 
and Garibaldi had arrived nearly worn 
out after their desperate endeavors to 
organize the defence in the South. At 
Tours Castelar made a great speech, as- 
suring the French of the sym[)athy of 
Republican Spain. Like Victor Hugo 
he has always cherished the dream of a 
federal union, a United States of Euro[)e, 
which is not likely to be realized in our 
time ; and he amplified his notion of tliis 
union in the speech at Tours. He was 
one of the strongest opponents to the 
candidacy of Amadeo of Italy for the 
Si)anish throne ; and after Amadeo's 
election, and during the two years of his 
reign, he vigorously attacked the policy 
of Serrano and Sagasta. It was during 
this interruption of the Republic, on the 



21st of December. 1872, that Castelar 
made his great speech in favt)r of the 
aliohtion of slavery in the Spanish pos- 
sessions. This, and liis address on the 
liberty of pul)lic worship, mentioned else- 
where, are enough to make any orator's 
memory immortal. 

In 1.S73 the Republic had a second 
triumph. King Amadeo abdicated, and 
ReiHiblican institutions were jn'oclaimed 
by a great majority in the Cortes. The 
ministry in which Castelar held the [lort- 
folio < f foreign affairs was at once 
named. From this time forward until 
the last days of 1874 C'astelar and his 
followers seemed likely, as the result 
of the vigorous revolutions of 18G8 and 
18(;',i, detinitely to graft Republican insti- 
tutions upon the Spanish nation. The 
year of 187.S was highly encouraging to 
Liberals throughout the country. A 
counter-revolution was prepared with 
much dexterity, but it was thwarted l)y 
the vigor of the Republicans. Castelar 
repeatedly risked his own life by his 
courageous intervention in tumultuous 
public gatherings. In the si)ringof 1873 
he had laid before the country the pro- 
gramme, and in this programme the 
ministry declared for complete decen- 
tralization, sui)i)ression of Church and 
State, the abolition of slavery, modifica- 
tion of tlie abuses in recruiting in the 
army, and improvement of the adminis- 
tration of justice. Castelar and his col- 
leagues then resigned, believing that they 
could lie of more use as simple deputies, 
and a Federal Republic was shortly af- 
terwards proclaimed, after new elections 
had brought into power a thoroughly 
rcjiresentative body of Spanish Liberals. 

Shortly after this the new Republic 
was ovi'rwhelmed with troubles. The 
Radicals came forward with the most 
extravagant propositions, and seemed 
likely to throw the nation into anarchy. 



EC ROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



7{> 



A Carlist invasion in the north, and a 
Communistic rising in tlio sonth, the 
disovgauizatiou of tlie army and an 
almost ban!\rupt condition of the treas- 
ury, discouraged all but Castelar, who 
had meantime become President of the 
Cortes, and who, anxious to save the 
Republic, allowed himself to be made 
Dictator. He did for Spain in a few 
short months what Gambetta did for 
France in the trying days of the autumn 
of 1870. Out of the complete chaos he 
organized an army of nearly one hundred 
thousand men ; he reestalilished military 
discipline, and punished with tiie great- 
est severity all breaclies of army law. 
By a wise and just system of ta.xatiou 
he managed to reestablish the public 
funds, and it is remarkable that lie did 
not get into debt a single penny, yet 
found what mouey was wanted on better 
terms than was ever obtained b}' the 
luckiest ministers or preceding monarchs. 
It is scarcely necessary to say here that 
it was entirely due to his political clever- 
ness that war with the United States 
was avoided at the time of tlie Vinjinius 
affair. All the time that he was harassed 
and weighed down with a thousand 
details of military and civil administra- 
tion lie had also carefully to watch the 
intrigues and menacing movements of 
the Serrano party, which was already 
moving heaven and earth to put the son 
of Doiia Isabel upon the throne He 
went on with wonderful skill, and might 
have been in power now, had it not been 
for his own generosity. His desire to 
rally to the government of the Republic 
all Liberals, without distinction of party, 
made him the antagonist of Salmeron, 
who had meantime become the President 
of the Cortes ; and on the 2d of January, 
1874, Castelar found himself among the 
members of the minority. • He at once 
resigned, and the next day came General 



Pavia, with his coup d'Etaf, a weak and 
detestable imitation of the original crime 
of the same si)ecies in France. The 
Deputies were expelled from the Cham- 
ber, and Marshal Serrano and his politi- 
cal friends took power into their own 
hands, to do with it as they saw fit. 
Castelar went back to private life with 
the profound conviction that the Repub- 
lic must wait a. new opportunity, as he 
saw that political wisdom had not yet 
been developed in the peninsula. 

Towards the close of 1874 he had 
numerous interviews with Sagasta, who, 
as minister, had much influence, and 
who seemed to favor the idea of found- 
ing in Spain a conservative Republic on 
the basis proposed in France. But then 
came the revolution of December, 1874, 
the proclamation of Alfonso XII. as 
King of Spain, and Castelar, disgusted 
and disheartened, gave his resignation as 
professor in the University of Madrid, 
and departed from Spain on a long jour- 
ney. But in 187G he stepped back into 
the political arena, and was elected to the 
Cortes from the independent and demo- 
cratic city of Barcelona. 

His programme, then given in his 
speech to the voters of Barcelona, is as 
far from fulfilment in .Spain to-day as it 
would have been a quarter of a centiny 
ago. "I wish," said the great orator, 
" an organization of the State, in close 
harmony and intimate relation with lib- 
erty and democracy. I demand the 
fundamental rights of humanitN', univer- 
sal suffrage, the incontestable basis of 
all democratic government, complete 
religious liberty with its immediate con- 
sequences, national instruction, and the 
State independent of every Church, rc- 
establisliment of the institution of trial 
by jur3-, and the faithful practice of the 
laws as they are written down." 

At Valencia, as at Barcelona and To- 



80 



EURi)l-K IX STORM AND CALM. 



lodo and luiuioroiis otiifr Spuuisli cities, 
religious mystery plays and processions 
form one of tiie chief amusements of the 
poinilace. In the principal theatres of 
Valencia, the " Passion of Christ " is 
auunall}' performed. The passion com- 
bines reverential treatment of sacred 
snbjects and common-place dramatic 
effects in the most peculiar manner. 
Tlie curtain rises on a scene loaded 
with Arabic decorations. Magdalene 
is disclosed combing her long tresses, 
looking at herself in a silver mirror, 
and soliloquizing upon her affection for 
the Saviour. Suddenly Judas enters 
and tells her of his love for her. She 
repels him in the most ignominious fasli- 
iou. .Judas departs furious, crying out 
that he will have re\enge. At this itoint 
a few of the native spectators warn 
Judas to desist, or they will come u|ion 
the stage and punish him. The scene 
changes. The Saviour is seen bidding his 
motiier adieu. JNIary is overcome liv a 
presentiment of danger, and urges him to 
remain with her. But llie cuitain o[)ens 
at the l)ack of the stage, and discloses 
the [turgator^- fdled with choristers, reii- 
resenting the spirits of the condemned 
bewailing their sad fate. " Mother, 
these souls suffer inuitterable anguish," 
are the words of the Saviour; "I must 
deliver tiiein." 

All the phases of the final passion 
succeed in regular order, and are often 
]K)itrayed with rough, realistic vigor. 
The flagellation is sometimes so alarm- 
ingly real in appearance that the moun- 
taineers menace with death those who are 
applying the scourges. So serious and 
reverent are the lookers-on that they 
refuse to be startled from their equa- 
nimity, even when they see St. John at 
the wings wearing a slouch liat to protect 



his head from draiiglits, or when they are 
told that ]Magdalene rolls cigarettes 
l)ehind tlie scenes and cliats with the 
dancing-girls. Sometimes the most mon- 
strous absurdities occur npon the stage. 
In the tableau of the Resiu'rection, one 
evening, in a Valencia theatre, the figure 
of the I'isen Redeemer, as it passed 
through the air, toppled over, and hung 
head downwards, until the person filling 
the nilc was nearly suffocated. Tliis 
passion lias such an excitable effect uiiou 
tlie populace that the l:)isliops of Bar- 
celona and Madrid forbade, at one time, 
its representation in their cities. Old 
women would spit npon the ground with 
rage when Judas ajipeared upon the 
scene, and if the poor artist were recog- 
nized on the street any night after the 
performance he ran serious risk of being 
torn ill pieces. 

On the festival day of St. Vicente, 
patron of Valencia, the tradesmen or- 
ganize lay processions in his honor, and 
the young peoiile of tin; ujiper classes 
erect platforms in the open air, upon 
which taljleaux, showing the jtrincipal 
events in the life of the hoh" man, are 
given. Every hundredth year witnesses 
one of the grandest festivals of the 
Roman Church in St. Mcente's honor. 
Even the materials of the ecclesiastical 
treasury are exhibited in the narrow 
Valeueian streets. Twelve stout fellows 
carry a heavy cross, which they are 
strictly enjoiued not to set down. If, 
overcome with fatigue, the^' disobey this 
injunction, they are fined, and the cross 
then belongs to the church upon whose 
parish soil it falls. Gigantic figures of 
St. Christopher bearing the I'hild Jesus 
npon his shoulder, of Metiiuselah, and of 
numerous other saints and worthies of 
holy writ, fill the ranks of this pageant. 



EUROPE IiV STORM AXD CALM. 



81 



CHAPTER EIGHT. 

Tea Years After. — Kiufjship Eefstablished in Spain. — Going to a Eoyal Wedding. — Tlie French Gate 
of the Sea. — Marseilles. — Kcminisccnccs of the Pestilence. — Napoleon III. and Marseilles. — 
Barcelona. — The Catalonian People. — From Barcelona to Valencia. — A Reti'ospect. — A Spanish 
Bishop. — Tortosa. — In the Beautiful .South. — In the Market-place of Valencia. — Out of the 
World into Church. 



I LITTLE thought, wheu witnessing 
these numerous protests against the 
reestablishmeut of royalty in Spain, 
that the very question of monareliical 
restoration would be the indirect cause of 
the greatest war of modern times ; and 
that the son of Doiia Isabel would come 
to the throne from which his mother liad 
been compelled to flee in 18GS. With 
the vanishing of youth go a host of 
cherished illusions, and the reaction, 
which I should have thought irapossil)le 
in 1869, seemed to me, at least, expli- 
cable in 1879. It so happened that, ex- 
actly ten years after witnessing the great 
insurrection in Valencia, I found myself 
once more in that battle-scarred old 
town, ou the way to witness the second 
wedding of young King Alfonso, at the 
court where he has so peacefully main- 
tained himself despite the revolutions in 
the south, and the Carlists' wars in the 
north, since the wise men interfered, as 
they said, in the interests of order, and 
placed him on the throne in Madrid. 
History had been made with great 
rapidity in Spain during the decade just 
flown ; but the greater eveuts north of 
the Pyrenees had dwarfed the Carlists' 
campaigns aud the Andalusiau revolts, 
so that they seemed of small interest to 
the European public. Yet progress had 
been made. Hundreds of monasteries 
and nunneries had been closed. In Bar- 
celona aud other seaport towns a new 



commerce was springing up vigorously, 
aud defied even the most crushiug taxa- 
tion of the monarchy to keep it down. 
Bands of English engineers were explor- 
ing tlie mountain chains, iu which lay 
hidden such a rich store of minerals ; for 
Spain is the treasure-house of the future, 
and every man, woman, aud child within 
her limits might be rich if they were 
l)lessed with systematic industry. The 
Carlists had been literally laughed out 
of existence. Their beggarly exchequer 
and the protracted nature of their impo- 
tent eamiiaigns had been powerful aids 
to the then little army which King Al- 
fonso had at his disposal. The Republic 
had come into view four or five times, 
and had gone bacij again into obscurity, 
because of the excesses of its disciples. 
So I was compelled, in my southward 
journey, in 1879, to pocket my illusions, 
and to confess that, for the present, 
Spain seemed wedded to monarchy, to 
Catholicism, and to the indolence which 
has long been her curse. 

I went down from Paris to Marseilles, 
and thence to Barcelona, that I might 
ou the way to Madrid travel across the 
great stretch of country lying between 
Barcelona and Valencia ; the country over 
which 3'oung Hannibal traniiied with his 
forces many a time, aud which offers 
some of the most striking contrasts in 
scenery to be found in Europe. The 
whole journej' from Paris to Madrid by 



82 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



this roundabout route is a series of piet- 
uresque anil deliglitful surprises. Per- 
haps there is do change more striking in 
France than that hetweeu the northern 
plains on which Paris stands, surrounded 
by gently rolling hills, and the wild coun- 
try of the Midi. Six hundred miles from 
the French capital one is in a land whicli 
seems to have felt but little, if at all, 
the modern influence. These vast flats, 
covered with diminutive olive-trees wav- 
ing their shaggy tufts of leaves violently 
beneath the rude caresses of tlie Mistral ; 
and these ancient towns, hemmed in hy 
walls which nuist have been built long 
before C'olunitius discovered America; 
these hills, covered with ruined castles 
and strongholds, — are all part of a past, 
that a[ii)ears to liave l)een invaded by 
no features of tlie i)resent, except tlie 
railroad, which is a kind of anachro- 
nism. Tlie olive-orchards, the old cement 
mills, the wine-i)resses, and the quaint 
silk and ceramic factories, are the only 
evidence of trade ; yet the populations 
must trade busily, for the thickness with 
wliii-h the poiiulation is sown through 
certain sections of this southern France 
is quite wonderful. Every five minutes 
the rapid train passes through towns of 
ten thousand, lifteen thousand, or twenty 
thousand inhabitants, — towns where not 
a building has lieen erected perhaps iuv 
hundreds of years ; whera the inhaliit- 
ants consider a cathedral of the four- 
teenth or lifteeuth century as new. The 
route passes ancient Valence, where sat 
the famous i)()li(ieal council iu 15G3 ; 
where Pius VI. died, and where a cer- 
tain youth, known as Xapoleon Bona- 
parte, completed his military education. 
Valence is full of memories of the Prot- 
estants, and the valiant waj' in which 
they det"ended their principles iu the old 
ilaj's ; and not very far away is Livron, 
which deserves a commemorative poem. 



Iu the good old stirring times of 1574 
Henry III. besieged the fortress into 
which the Protestant Montbrnn had with- 
drawn, after having given the king an 
uncommonly good thrashing in a battle 
not far from that point. Henry sum- 
moned Montbruu to surrender ; but the 
latter sent forth a refusal almost as con- 
temptuous as the reputed response of 
Cambronne at Waterloo. So the royal 
and Catholic army sat down l)efore the 
citadel of Livron, and was just beginning 
to thiuk that the Protestants would come 
out with ropes about their necks, would 
acknowledge that they had been very 
naughty and mutinous, and would solicit 
the favor of being executed iu the pres- 
ence of the king, when it was surprised 
to see the said Protestants charging 
down ujion it ; and before it could re- 
cover I'rcim its astonishment it had 
licen very thoroughly walked over twice 
or thrice. This made the Catholic be- 
siegei's angry, and they assaulted iu 
their turn. Then IMoutbruu, to show 
that he feared them not at all, when he 
had repulsed their attack, came out with 
fifty chosen men, and, sword in hand, 
these gallant fifty-one chased back to 
their teuts the armies of Ileury III. 
The siege had begmi in June of 1574 ; 
it lasted with but little intermission until 
January of 1575, when the beaten and 
humiliated Henry withdrew his forces. 

On every hand, up and down the length 
and breadth of the Midi, from tlie charm- 
ing coast where the rugged and many- 
colored rocks are bathed by purple and 
blue an<l violet water, to the fat [ilains 
and teeiiiiug vineyards in tlie midmost 
section, are interesting historic memo- 
rials. The term " Midi " is iu the north 
indefinitely applied to the whole southern 
portion of France ; but the inhabitants 
of the south are as proud of their local 
divisions as our own American people is 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



83 



of its States, and the people of Provence 
are noted for their bigoted devotion to 
their fair laud. Tell them of the delights 
and -wouiiers of the great capital, and 
they point to their orange-groves, their 
laurel roses, their myrtles, their palm- 
trees towering high iu air, their blue hills 
clad in garments of vapor, their rich 
earth, from which springs with tropical 
abundance such variety of fruits, and 
they say that the Parisians have none of 
these. The Marseillais is confident that 
there is no city so beautiful, so bewitch- 
ing, as his own. 

Marseilles is a huge, cosmopolitan, in- 
dustrious, vigorous city, offering the 
strongest and strangest contrast to the 
sleepy Spanish and Italian towns easily 
reached from it. The Canneliit^re, the 
principal promenade, is crowded all day 
long with thousands of men, women, 
and children ; but no one seems really 
idle. This is the French gate of the sea. 
On the majestic quays one sees Arabs, 
Nubians, Greeks, Turks, and the motley 
and speckled peoples of the Orient. No 
one turns to stare at them. In Paris a 
black Mollah, in a gown of bedticking, 
would be gazed at for hours ; in Mar- 
seilles he passes unnoticed. Paris 
possesses nothing finer than the Rue de 
la R6publique iu Marseilles. It is a 
veritable avenue of palaces, and sweeps 
majestically over the brow of a fine hill. 
On the front of the Exchange, fitly situ- 
ated near the water, which brings Mar- 
seilles her wealth, the prows of galleys 
are sculptured iu marble, and remind 
one of the origin of the town. How 
little did the old Pha'uicians fancy, when 
they came prowling along this coast in 
their galleys, that one day the little 
colony, which they were here to found, 
would become the chief seaport of a rich 
and powerful nation ! These Phajnicians 
stai'ted on their expedition iu obedience 



to the oracle of Ei)hesiis, six hundred 
years before the birth of Christ. Com- 
merce has been going on in the port ever 
since that time ; but all the great im- 
provements have been made within the 
last sixty years, and it is astonishing to 
note what has been done in that time. 
In 18.30 the basins and docks covered a 
space of little more than sixty acres ; 
to-day they spread over three times that 
area. Liverpool, Antwerp, Marseilles, 
and Grenoa strive for commercial su- 
premacy in Europe. Marseilles will 
not be last iu the race. Its warehouse 
frontage is enormous ; those of London 
and New York alone are larger. From 
this port goes forth the great fleet of 
the Messageries 3Iaritimes, which pos- 
sesses fiftj'-six steamers, sailing to al- 
most every important point iu the East ; 
and four other great companies own 
seventy-five first-class sea-going steam- 
ships. The Mediterranean and eastern 
seas are covered with craft, plying from 
Marseilles ; and every sunset sees a 
dozen bows which have been washed liy 
the surges of the Orient grating against 

& OOP 

the quays. China, South America, and 
all the Mediterranean ports pour their 
riches into the lap of Marseilles. Italy, 
Spain, Algeria, and Corsica are almost 
dependent upon her. Cereals, oils, silks, 
and alcohol lie packed in the enormous 
warehouses. 

Marseilles is, of course. Republican. 
All the great cities of France are ; liut 
there are reactionary elements at work 
there all the time. The church has a 
feeble hold in the city. L'ntil a com- 
paratively recent epoch the city had no 
church of any considerable dimensions. 
The great revolution swept awaj' all of 
the principal ones, aud they were never 
rebuilt. The women are still scrupulous 
in their observance of Catholic form, but 
the mass of the men pay no attention to 



84 



£ CROPS ly STORM AND CALM. 



the fonuulas of the church. Perhaps 
we must except the flshermeii, who I 
believe fancy themselves iiuder the pro- 
tection of " Our Lady of Lagarde," who 
has a handsome church on such a con- 
spicuous hill that it serves as a landmark 
for the home-coming seamen. From 
this hill one can look out miles over the 
vari-colored sea, and over the hills sur- 
rounding Marseilles ; hills where vine- 
yards and olive-gardens are interspersed 
with tracts of wretched deserts, tit only 
for tlie habitation of the horrid swine 
that one sees trotting about them. 

Na|)oleon III. was fond of Marseilles, 
and liuilt there a vast ])refecture, which 
is a local wonder, like Monte-Cristo 
and the Cannabii^re. The prefecture 
is in the convct and monotonous style 
of the Second Empire. Large and tine 
avenues, bordered with beautiful trees, 
radiate from it in every direction. 

The northerner in these southern lands 
will never tire of studying the popula- 
tions. The singing workmen and the 
chattering and laughing Provencal 
maidens, witii eyes like sloes, and 
hair like the raven's wing, and the 
tawny Italians, who have come to 'Shw- 
seilles in searcli of the work which 
they cannot lind at home, — ^ are all 
interesting. The Provencal language, 
when one listens to it from a short 
distance, sounds so nuich like English, 
with tlie inlh'ctiou which is given to 
it in America, that he inv<.)luntarily 
turns his head when he hears it, ex- 
pecting to be hailed by an acquaintance 
or to recognize his own national typo. 
Full of Greek and Latin, this sono- 
rous and musical language, when well 
spoken, by cultivated people, has a 
grace which must be denied to the 
French with its staccato note and to the 
Spanish with its collection of hisses and 
siutturals. 



Marseilles [lays great attention to the 
rules of health to-day, because she has 
had several terrible lessons in the past. 
The pest came in the old times, none 
knew how or whence, and smote the 
poi)ulation with dreadful force in 1720 
and 17-'l. It fell upon Marseilles, and 
did not depart until it had made eighty 
thousand victims. It is supposed that 
the plague was originally brouglit in 
an eastern vessel ; but this was never 
proved. It was even the custom to bury 
the dead in the vaults of the churches, 
and this deplorable habit contributed to 
spread the disease. The Bishop of 
Marseilles was visiting at the Court in 
Versailles, when tlie news of the out- 
break of the plague reached him in a 
note conceived as follows, and preserved 
in the archives of the city : " Mouseig- 
neur, — The flock calls its shepherd. 
God has chastised Marseilles. The pest 
is slaying us. The rich have fled. The 
poor are dying. The desolation is gen- 
eral. People believe that they see in 
the air the angel which slew with the 
l)higue the legions of Sennacherib. 
Come, and die with us." 

The heroic bishop left the Court at 
midnight to esea|ie the objections to his 
departure which he knew would be made 
by the dissolute monarch of the time. 
lie IraxrlkMl twelve days, with relays of 
horses, and on the evening of the 
thirteenth day he reached Marseilles. 
The city was indeed desolate. The 
galley-slaves had been mustered to clear 
away the corpses which encumbered the 
streets. People were dying by hundreds 
on the very thresholds of their houses. 
A kind of leprosy was in the air. The 
Ijishop marched into the church, where 
lay the unbnried dead, and celebrated 
high mass. Confidence returned to the 
cowards who had run away, when they 
learned that their pastor was in the city, 



ECROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



and people came back. The bishop 
ordered mass to be celebrated a few days 
thereafter in the open air in the very 
midst of the plague ; and the church 
brought forth all its splendors for the 
occasion. The bells of the convents 
rang ; the cannon of the forts thundered ; 
and, when the Di'iia in Ailjiiforium was 
intoned, eight}' thousand voices took up 
the chorus. For weeks thereafter the 
bishop, bareheaded and with cross in 
hand, went about, adjuring the people 
to be courageous ; and, proper measures 
having been taken, the plague soon died 
entirely away, and for more than a 
century and a half the authorities of 
Marseilles have taken almost infinite 
jweeautions against the return of the 
dreaded visitor. 

The park of the Prado is one of the 
loveliest in Europe. It is ratlier an 
avenue than a park, yet partakes of the 
character of both. Noble trees border 
it, and from any point on the promenade 
one may look around on exquisite villas, 
Italian in architecture ; or densely wooded 
hills, over which a bluish vapor seems 
perpetually to hover ; or on naked sum- 
mits of rock ; on ancient convents, tran- 
quil amid their groves ; on bastides, as 
the country-seats are called ; and, finally, 
on the magic surface of the southern 
sea. 

From Marseilles I went straight to 
Barcelona, where I found the Catalans 
hut little interested in the royal festivi- 
ties soon to occur in Madrid. Tlie land- 
lord at the principal hotel shrugged his 
shoulders, and said he knew nothing 
about the king's wedding ; and I was 
informed that the railways did not find it 
worth their while to organize excursion 
trains from Barcelona to the capital for 
the wedding. A queer character is the 
Catalan of the fields, with his rough 
dialect, his contempt for everything 



outside his native province. But the 
cit}' people ai'e by no means rough or 
ignorant. Barcelona seems to give the 
lie to the assertion that Spain alone, of 
all European countries, refuses to be 
modernized. On every hand are spring- 
ing up beautiful promenades aud stately 
streets around the ancient Barcelona's 
labyrinthine alleys ami obscure lanes. 
The exquisite leafy Ramljla, the grand 
central street of Barcelona, is one of the 
prettiest sights in the world on a sun- 
shiu}' winter Sunda\- morning, when the 
yellow leaves of the sycamores seem like 
a golden canopy over the thousands of 
men and women promenading with Span- 
ish itisovciance. The shop-keeping ele- 
ment is, of course, prominent in a com- 
mercial seaport like Barcelona, but the 
people are reuowned for the elegance of 
their dress and their manners. A deli- 
cacy of taste, which is one of the praise- 
worthy qualities of the Si)anish charac- 
ter, is observable in the de|)ortnient of 
the soft-voiced girls, dressed in black, 
with the traditional lace veils adjusted 
carefully upon, their glossy braids as 
they accompany their mammas home 
from the morning service at some one 
of the many churches. The whole ex- 
tent of the Rambla, from the water-side 
to the Saragossa railw.-'v station, resem- 
bles, at noon on a Sunday, a vast salon, 
in which all classes of societ}' are repre- 
sented. On either side of the broad 
aveuue run paved streets, lined with 
immensely high, solid houses containing 
the principal hotels and shops of the 
quarter. Soldiers are a frequent sight 
in the large cities of .Spain. The sol- 
dier, the priest, and the gendarme, are 
like the poor in these sunshiny lands, 
— you have them always with you. The 
Sunday parade brings togetiier in Barce- 
lona two or three thousand soldiers, 
dressed in admirablv fitting uniforms of 



SQ 



EUROPE ly STOBAf AND CALM. 



blue coats, red trousers, and green 
gloves, and these defenders of the mon- 
archy ;ire always marshalled by hand- 
some oflieers. The sellers of lottery 
tickets, and itinerant venders of almost 
every useless object conceivable, are the 
pests of the stranger in I'arcelona. The 
clubs, the great Liceo Theatre, said to 
be the largest in the world, and the su- 
perb plan lor nnniici[ial iui[)n)venients, 
are wortli careful attention from the 
traveller. The citizens of Barcelona 
have had the best features of Vienna 
and Paris niapited out in an unoccupied 
space in the most beautiful outlying 
district of the city. But it will take 
half a century and a population of one 
milliou to bring Barcelona anywhere 
near the level of the plan. The Atlu-- 
nffium Club of Barcelona has a thousand 
members, chosen from the liberal profes- 
sions. No Spanish city has more induce- 
ments as an agreealilo place of residence 
for a fevv months to those who wish 
mild winter weather. The climate is 
singularly soft and free from sudden 
changes. The last leaf does not flutter 
down to the ground until niid-Deceui- 
ber, and the trees are green again almost 
before one has noticed the absence of 
leaves. 

But I have not siiace to tell you 
all the curiosities of Barcelona : the 
strange old cathedral, with its (hree 
vast naves and its subterranean chapel 
of wonderful richness of design and or- 
nament ; the mansions of the Diputa- 
cion, built in the sixteenlh century, and 
enriched with manyi>f Fortuuy's master- 
pieces ; or the great rambling square on 
which the Exchange stands ; or the 
pretty fomitain, around which are grouped 
statues representing the cities of nortli- 
eru Spain. A striking effect in the 
cathedral is ])roduced by the subdued 
and many-colored lights which fall 



through the stained-glass windows upon 
the hundreds of worshippers, kneeling 
at early morning in one of the central 
aisles under soft tints, which seem to 
tremble down upon them like benedic- 
tions. 

It is a far cry from Barcelona to Va- 
lencia, and I travelled thither in company 
with a tall and stately ,Si)anish bishop, 
wlio in tlie country <if proverbially hand- 
some men would readily pass for one of 
the finest specimens. He was accom- 
panic(l by :in elderly huly. with a slighth' 
apparent lieard, who was evidently his 
sister. Had this priest been an army oUi- 
cer he would have liroken a hundred 
hearts before he gained his retiring pen- 
sion. I>ut there was no trace of world- 
liness in his calm and serene counti'uauce, 
(ir in tlie deep Iilack eyes, from which 
shone a softened si)iritual light. Every- 
thing aliout his person bespoke an aristo- 
cratic gentility. comi)letely at the service 
of tlie clmreh. His shapely form was 
eni'ased in a lilack silk gown, which 
descended to liis plain siioes, and I could 
onlv now and then catch a gleam of a 
fine silk stocking as he moved. A low 
linen collar and a black clerical band 
were tlie only ornaments at his neck. On 
his head he wore a small skull-cap, which 
left Iiare a rich exiianse of brow, with 
but few wrinkles upon it. His lii)S 
were thin, and his speech was refined. 
I fancied that this was not at all the 
type of a man whom Philii) II. would 
have liked to have had near him. 
The fanatical monarch would have ban- 
ished Iiini fiom his [iresence. and would 
have n'plaeed him by some one of 
sterner, liercer type. I imagined, too, 
that my fellow-traveller, the bishop, 
would liave been shocked, rather than 
offended or angered, if some light-headed 
free-thinker had attacked him in con- 
versation, endeavoring to prove to him 



EUROPE IX STORM A XV CALM. 



87 



that the church is doomed to decay. 
This bishop was certaiuly one of tliose 
who are firm in the faith. For hiiu the 
beautiful forms of madonnas, saints, 
atid martyrs, the sonorous chants of 
monkish choirs, and the incense-laden 
interiors of immense cathedrals, were 
profoundly touching, and represented 
realities from which no weak human 
assertion or argument could detract. 
I would have given much to have heard 
his opinion on socialism, nihilism, and 
a dozen other isms now making their 
blind way through this world. I am 
sure that his statements would have 
been deliberate and gentle, devoid of 
wrath, and the fruit of honest conviction. 
If he had been told that he and his 
were standing obstacles to modern 
progress in Spain I am confident that 
he would have answered, with a winning 
smile, that progress must bow before 
the immutable, omnipresent, all-power- 
ful church. I was so interested in the 
bishoi) that I forgot to look at Tarragona ; 
but just beyond it there were exquisite 
bits of scenery : here and there, gardens 
through wiiich soft breezes were blow- 
ing, htzily moving the leaves of the 
semi-tropical trees ; bits of oriental green 
framed in rugged rock ; a superb bridge, 
with its squat arcli of red, standing out 
in fine relief against a brilliant back- 
ground of green, — a bridge named, it 
is said, after the devil, although I 
suppose his grace, the bishop, would 
have been puzzled to tell me why the 
structure, which dates back to Hannibal, 
should be devoted to his Satanic majesty. 
How little the warriors who spurred up 
and down these fields with Hannibal 
dreamed that some day a demon with 
its belly full of steam would draw trav- 
ellers across the lands from one city to 
another, in less time than it took them to 
go half-a-dozen leagues ! 



Southward and inward we went, across 
the fertile plains just below Tarragona, 
past villages nestling among vines and 
orange-groves, past wild almond-trees 
and mulberries, and now the villagers 
began to look more uncouth and savage 
than those between Barcelona and Tarra- 
gona. The men were clothed in linen 
trousers caught up at the knee, and their 
feet were encased in rawhide and straw 
sandals. For head-gear they wore only 
a handkerchief, colored and dirty. I 
recognized my old fiiends of ten j-ears 
before, and the same types that I saw 
fighting behind the barricades in Valen- 
cia. Most of them carried knives in 
their belts and blankets slung over their 
shoulders. When they engage in a 
quarrel they either vvhip the blanket 
around their loins or over one arm, using 
it as a protector against the dreadful 
thrusts which all of them know how to 
give with the knife. The women are 
dressed as simply as the men, and some- 
times wear so little clothing that it quite 
astonishes the stranger from more deco- 
rous regions. 

At Tortosa I lost my companion, the 
bishop, a mighty crowd of black-tVocked 
and rotund clerical gentry coming down 
and bearing him off most reverently to 
some P^piscopal residence. The sister 
with the dimlv perceptible beard occu- 
pied herself with the parcels, and the 
bishop departed with a sonorous " Fare- 
well," which had all tiic unctuous tlavor 
of a benediction. 

The train passed tln'ough a stone- 
strewn plain, where grew scarcely herbage 
enough for tlie flocks ; yet every mile 
or two were sheepfold.s skilfully con- 
structed of stone and earth, so that the 
fierce winds which sometimes rage there 
could not tear them down. As we left 
Tortosa we caught a glimpse of a long 
street, winding up a steep hill, and in 



88 



EUROrV. IX STORM AXD CALM. 



the iniiMle (>!' this avenue swept liy the 
penetrating sun we saw three figures, 
which sum up the civilization of Spain. 
One was a soldier, tlie second a priest, 
and tlie third a peasant, looking enough 
like a hand it to have been garroted on 
suspicion. There were mysterious hal- 
conies protruiling from still more m3's- 
terious liouses ; shady alley-ways, in 
which roses were growing in the oi)en 
air ; cool nooks, where the old women 
sat spinning, here and anon, in the 
kaleidoscopic vision that we had of 
Tortosa, before we were trundled out of 
it into the open plain, and began to draw 
near to a rocky range of mountains. 

Once past the mountains we were in 
the real south, where the tig, the olive, 
the vine, the orange, the almond, were 
common in the fields, in this soft De- 
cember weather. The odor of orange- 
leaves perfumed the air ; the delicate 
darkness seemed to heighten the value 
of the perfume, and to render tlie foliage 
even more bewitching than when dis- 
tinctly seen. Here and there were 
superb estates, and ncai' them lands 
Ij'ing as incult as they were two thousand 
years ago. The farm-houses and the 
adjoining buildings were all fortified and 
connected together in a manner which 
indicated that the countrj' is not safe. 
At Saguntum, near the rather ugly 
modern town of Murviedro, we found 
several dozens of old women, who ex- 
pected to sell us candles, with which to 
visit the Roman ruins by night. We 
declined to stop, and went on to Valen- 
cia, through beautiful vineyards and 
orange-orchards ; and at ten o'clock, on 
a beautiful moonlight night, I was in 
Valencia. A period of ten years had in 
no waj' sufficed to soften the hori'ors of 
the liirtinui. or native omnibus. I went 
out into the market-place and tried to 
picture anew the scene which 1 had wit- 



nessed. Oddly enough, Stanley was at 
this place exactly three years after the 
insurrection of 1860, and saw a second 
fight, much like that which we h.ad seen 
together. That night I had visions of 
battle whenever the night-watchman, 
who insisted on passing everj' hour 
through the narrow street and _yelling 
forth his protest that all was serene, 
would let i:ie get a nKjmentary nap. 
This wretched watchman, with lantern 
and spear in hand, ought to have been 
garroted for shrieking " Las doce de la 
iinrhi' : s/'ff'iio." •' Go home, you misera- 
ble wretch, and impale yourself upon 
your own spear," I cried to him in 
frenzy; but he sliouted on. 

Twelve o'clock, and all serene. Alas, 



yes ! 



serene in conscious servitude, in 



slavery to a youtliful monarch, Va- 
lencia, the i)retty city of the C'id Cani- 
jicador, calmly wearing her chains. At 
last I went to .sleep, and dreamed that 
the Cid came back to the world on his 
famous steed, and carried away young 
Alfonso XII. and his palace on the point 
of his gigantic lance. Aljout three 
o'clock an enterprising cock and a roar- 
ing watchman made a combined attempt 
on my slumbers ; but this time I escaped 
the snare, and when I awoke it was 
))road daylight, and under my windows 
tw<i children were singing sweetly. 

In the morning I went through the 
market-place. The square in which ten 
years ago I had seen dead men lying, 
— the steam, as Francois Coppice says, in 
his " Legend of Saragossa," rising from 
their blood on the pavement, as the hot 
sun beat down upon it, — was now filled 
with almond-eyed, dark-haired rustic 
maidens, shielded undi'r dirty-colored 
awnings, and announcing in their musi- 
cal voices the excellence of the fruits 
and flowers which they desired to sell. 
From the church, which 1 had seen 



EUROrE jy STORM AXD CALM. 



8!) 



beleaguprert oiio day and turned into 
a hospital the next, turned forth a cur- 
rent of uiu'se-niaids carrying briglit l)a- 
bies, and followed by anxious mothers, 
who liad been attending some ceremony 
for the good of the most Catholic infants. 
How bright the babii's are in this land 
of sunshine and politics ! They totally 
disarrange one's theories about the race 
in decadence. Personal beauty of a ro- 
bust, vigorous, and enduring type is as 
common in Spain as flowers in the hedge 
or birds in the thatches. 

The cathedral was full of memories for 
me, for I had seen it ten years before, 
when the fighting had just ceased to 
rage around it, and when tlie wounded, 
with bandaged heads, were grouped 
against its yellow and ancient walls. I 
remembered how in the holy dimness I 
had seen a handsome young engineer, 
with pale face and huge moustache, kneel- 
ing in an attitude of intense thankfulness 
before the altar, doubtless stirred to his 
heart's core with thanksgiving because 
his life had been spared. I remembered 
the mouutaiueers strolling about the sa- 
cred door-ways with cigarettes at their 
lips, and their gleaming rifles in their 
hands. 

I took off my hat, and went in. The 
old beggar woman squatting on the 
stones pulled back the leathern curtain, 
and held out her withered hand for char- 
ity. For a moment, after the sharp 
sunlight of the streets, the dimness 
was embarrassing to the vision ; but 
preseutl}' xay eyes became used to the 
place, and I saw that everything was as 
it had been for two or throe centuries ; 
that nothing had been changed in these 
ten years. The i-evolution had come and 
gone, but the church remained. The 
revolution had despoiled monasteries and 
convents, but here was no sign of dis- 
turbance. By letting the leathern cur- 



fain fall behind me I had sliut the nine- 
teenth century completely out and away. 

As I strolled up to the central coro, 
or vast church witliin a church, which is 
a peculiar feature of .Spanish ecclesias- 
tical ediflces, and looked in tin-ongh the 
opening, which was surrounded with 
sculptured angels, cardinals, popes, 
bishops, and ciiernbims, in lovely and 
somewhat incongruous confusion, I 
saw long rows of aged priests seated on 
carved benches, holding books open be- 
fore them and singing praises unto the 
Lord, delivered in solenm refrain. On 
rolled the stately Latin, until my sense 
of riiythm was so excited that I could not 
stir from the siK)t. I tried to count the 
[iriests, but I could not, for in the far 
coi'uer tlie shade was so deep that I 
could see notiiing save now and then 
white hair glistening indistinctly, or the 
momentary display of a wrinkled face, 
patient and serene. I wondered what 
these celiliates, sitting in the artistic 
gloom of the cathedral, thought, if they 
thouglit at all, of insurrections and 
things political ; of Alfonso's marriage, 
or the insidious workings of the Black 
Hand. How did the outer world impinge 
on their senses? I might have been 
speculating there until now, had not 
the round-voiced singing gradually died 
away, and the lights grown more and 
more dim, until it seemed as if the 
veteran chanters had melted into the 
incense-laden air. Presently two or 
three dignitaries, in trailing rol)es, came 
out of the obscurity, and, traversing tiie 
nave of the church, went away by the 
side doors, each courteously begging the 
other t(_) precede him, with as much 
dignity and deference as would have 
been shown by two courtiers. 

Why do not the mortal remains of 
the Cid lie in this old chnrch. in the town 
which he took, sword in hand, from the 



90 



EUROrE IX STORM AXD CAL.V. 



Moors? The eathrdnil was not begun 
until nioi'c than a century after his death ; 
but he shuukl have had a niche here. 
The treasures of the cathedral are count- 
less. There are few churches in tiie 
world which would so richly repay an in- 
vading army Cor pillaging its sacristy. 
Gold and silver, and marble and bronze, 
have been lavished upon it in such pro- 
fusion tliat now :in<l then the beggars in 
the streets must ask themselves why it 
is that the good God, who sent his Sou 
down to earth to lie born in a manger, 
needs so nnieh luxury in his earthly 
biding-place, when the}' are, perforce, 
content with a crust of bread, onions for 
dessert, and more kicks than half-pence ? 
This little visit to the cathedral in Va- 
lencia enabled me to appreciate more 
fully what Castelar saiil to me a few 



days later, in JIadrid. " No republic," 
said he, '■ however durable it might be, 
would be likely to interfere with the 
church in Siiain." — "Our country," 
said Don Emilio, with solemnity, " is 
Catholic." And it is Catholic, because 
the sensuous temperament, whieli is so 
prominent in even the rudest of the 
Spaniards, cannot pei'manently escape 
from th(> enchantment of a religion so 
abounding in the picturesque and the 
impressive. 

I had not promised to cai'i'v von to 
the royal wedding in this chapter, but we 
will now no longer loiter by the wav. 
Come to ]Ma<lrid, which is, in winter, in 
the midst of the desolate plains, a cold 
contrast to the warmth and gloom of Va- 
lencia and its environing valleys. 



miROPF IN STORM AND CALM. 



91 



CHAPTER NINE. 

Miulritl and its Gloom. — The Royal Wedding in 1S79. — Queen Christina and King AUbmo. — 
The Puerta del Sol. — The Church of the Atocha. ■ — Memories of Dona Isahel. — Royal Rejoicings. 
— An Interview with Castelar. — Gamhetta and Castelar Compared. 



AFTf^R the laughing landscapes of 
southern Spain, the vistas of blue 
mountains, of plains filled with olive 
and pomegranate trees, and the superb 
gardens of Seville and Cordova, the 
barren hills and wind-swept plains near 
the Spanish capital are far from inspir- 
ing. The sparkling sajing of John 
Hay, that "Madrid is a capital with 
malice aforethought," is unlike most 
epigrams, in this respect, that it is quite 
true. There Ls, too, a kind of ill-nature 
in the landscape about IMadrid ; one falls 
inevitably to thinking of the Inquisition 
and the cruel Spaniards of the older 
days. Here and there a monastery is 
perched on a crag, or rounded hill. A 
few suspicious-looking peasants stand 
huddled together, as if meditating an 
attack upon the train. Even the bulls 
grazing near the tracks lift their noble 
heads, and gaze at the passer-by with a 
kind of latent ferocity- At Aranjuoz, 
where I arrived just at sunset after the 
journey from Valencia, there was a hint 
of modernism in the architecture ; and 
the well-kept gardens and the view of 
the handsome summer palace of the 
kings of Spain called to mind the mem- 
orable occasion when the people went 
in noisy procession to that place, to 
signify to the trembling monarch of that 
time — the stormy days of 1808 — that 
they had had enough of him. Castelar 
dates the decline of Spanish monarch}' 
as au institution from that period. 



Very beautiful were the groves and 
the parks around Aranjuez. The yellow 
leaves — yes, the golden leaves, for in 
the brilliant November sunshine they 
seem tinged with gold — had fallen in 
great masses, and strewn the long tree- 
bordered alley-ways with carpets such 
as the hand of man could not rival. 
The valleys were filled with rich bouquets 
of foliage. The retreat seemed more 
like the abode of peace and philosophy 
than like a royal residence around which 
revolution has often raged. After 
Aranjuez the barrenness begins again, 
and the contrast is all the more striking 
Ix'cause of the beautiful oasis which one 
has just quitted. 

I found the Madrid railway-station 
crowded with gayly dressed officers and 
with dirty onniibus-drivers. The former 
class was so occupied with saluting each 
other that it gave me no trouble ; Init 
the latter tribe was so aggressive tli;tt I 
was compelled to fray a passage through 
them, and to threaten as well as coax 
before I could ensure attention at a rea- 
sonable price, even for Spain. Presently, 
seated with a travelling-companion, in 
one of the large four-seated omnibuses, 
which are numerous in Madrid, and are 
marked '• Servicio publiro" I found my- 
self dashing at breakneck pace through 
mudd}" and irregularly paved streets. 
My ^'ehiele had three horses, an old black 
hitched ahead of two venerable white 
ones ; but when this eciuine trio started 



92 



EVROVE IX STORM AND CALM. 



it really seemed as if tlio prince of witeli- 
craft had applied tlie lash. Away we 
went, nearly knocking down the unhapp\' 
octroi ufflcers, who desiierately endeav- 
ored to clinili nj) on tlii' .sti'[is ami in- 
quire if we had anytiiini;' dutiable. We 
had only tune to cry, ^^Xmhi " (nothing), 
and to cling on, before we were rushing 
p.ast half a hundred tall white and yellow 
buildings. We soon [lassed the olive 
avenues of the Prado, and were mount- 
ing the hill of the C'alle Alcala. We 
fiimly expected to be rolled against the 
curb-stones : lint the black horse, as if 
inspired, tore around every obstruction,, 
and the whites sprang after liim. 

And the I'uerta del Sol? It was a 
vision of an immense square, with a 
v,ast fountain in the centre, and lofty 
buildings, with l)alconies on every side. 
Ten streets open into this i)laee, an<l 
from each one of them, as we arrived, 
came forth interminalile processions of 
mules laden with straw, and liay, and 
wine, and oil ; of soldiers in long coats 
and short coats, in white jackets covered 
with silver braid, in blue surtouts and red 
trousers ; of little brown-faced boys, 
selling photographs of doulitf'ul UK^rality ; 
of <.)ld women, screaming forth the names 
of newspapers ; of asthmatic old men, 
wrapped to the eyes in long cloaks, and 
with siiiiibreros drawn over their lean 
faces ; of priests, majestic in their 
ample robes of black ; of cavaliers re- 
turning from the park; of a group of 
conscripts singing merrily to the music 
of jingling guitars; and of srnorifui^ of 
all classes, morals, and conditions, each 
■with a black lace veil falling gracefully 
about her pretty head. Every tiiird man 
was a soldier, and seemed (juite con- 
tented to be such. He was alwavs neat, 
and uniformed with excellent taste. I 
soon found myself installed in a hand- 
some room in the Hotel de la I'aix, 



looking down >ipou tlie great square. 
From below came ny a roar such as ouo 
hears when near a. canqi. This was the 
roar of the sovereign people (if Madrid, 
discussing, selling, liuyiug, threatening, 
laughing, snarling. There is not such 
another noisy phu'e in Kuropi', nor one 
that in the course of a, single day pre- 
sents such an enormous variety of 
aspects. In l.SCII, during the I'evolu- 
tion, it was amusing to watch the news- 
venilers, who [lossess all the impetiKJUS 
energy of their American pi'ototypes. 
In a few days eighteen or twenty nmsh- 
room journals si)rang into existence in 
]\[adrid, their columns fille(l with the 
most exaggerated political jargon. Old 
women, liarefooted and bareheaded, 
stalked to and fro, screaming forth the 
merits of the 1-J<jiiiilit>). the Discii.'Oiion, 
and the i'liiiilmf. In their wake followed 
ragged urchins, urging the claims of the 
Iiiipiirtiiil. the I)iitr>/ <if tin' I^coplc, the 
Epoch, and the < 'nrri'sjiDiidcnre. I re- 
member that, curious to liohl in my 
hand one of the smallest ami newest of 
the journals, I beckoned to an old crone 
to follow me til ;i neighl)oring ca/c, there 
selected my [laper, and searched my 
pockets for the proper coin with which 
to pay ; but I foinid no small change. 
The venerable \-ender had none, refused 
my iiroffered gold jiiece, demanded her 
liaper back, and overwiielmecl me with 
expletives and objurgations. A tall, 
grave Spaniard seated near me arose, 
touched his hat courteously, produced 
from his pocket the pnjper money, jiaid 
the woman, handed me the paper, which 
she had already taken from me. and, 
wlien I desired to pay him, held up his 
hands in sign of i)rotestation. Then he 
resumed his seat, and straightway- ig- 
nored my existence. 

But to the Royal "U'edding ! A mat- 
rimonial alliance with the Austrian lady 



EUROrE IN STORM AND CALM. 



03 



was felt to be an important movement, 
and was donbtless recognized by the 
chui'ch as a kind of moral support for 
it ; for Austria and Spain are eminently 
Catholic, and their united action might 
now and then offset the invading in- 
fluence of the northern Protestant 
powers in a great European struggle. 
The aristocratic society of Europe was 
invited to the festivities attendant upon 
this Spanish wedding ; and to welcome 
the hundreds of fashionable guests, the 
old Spanish Court brought forth the 
remnants of its ancient splendor, and 
succeeded in impressing every one with 
the luxurj- of its ceremonials and the 
stateliness of its dignity. The pro- 
gramme of the royal wedding comprised 
a grand riveiUe, or "Diana," as it is 
called in Spain, to begin at seven. This 
was on the morning after my arrival. 
All the trooiis of the garrison and thou- 
sands sent in from the neighboring towns 
took part in this early bugle call. The 
places of the Atocha, the Botanico, the 
Prado, the Callo Alcala. the Calle 
Mayor, the Areo do la Armeria, the Plaza 
de Orieute, and all the other principal 
avenues and squares of the capital, 
rang with the inspiring martial music. 
Presently came the soldiers, marching 
with the long swinging step for which 
they are renowned, and looking neither 
to right nor left. The impression which 
strangers received was that the govern- 
ment was inclined to take no chances on 
this important occasion, and had made 
the ' ' Diana " a pretest for filling 
Madrid with troops, which could, if 
necessary, overawe any revolutionary' 
crowds. The decorations were profuse 
on the hotels and chief commercial es- 
tablishments, but few private mansions 
had either flags or illuminations. Over 
the door of tlie Ministcrio de la Gober- 
nacion was a gigantic '■'•Viva Alfonso 



XII." in gas-jet letters, and uiiou it was 
a crown, which when lighted had an 
enormously unsteady air. By ten 
o'clock in the morning the masses of 
the people were arranged in rows along 
the whole ro3'al line of march, from the 
l)alace to the Atoclia church, where 
the ceremony was to take place. 

This Atocha is a rather inferior-looking 
religious edifice, which belonged originally 
to a convent of the Dominican order, 
founded under C-harles V. by one of his 
officers. It was destroj'ed in 1808. 
Ferdinand VII. had it rebuilt under the 
direction of the celebrated architect Isi- 
dore Velasquez, and the cluireh served 
as a Court chapel. The tradition 
requires that the kings of Spain should 
go every Saturday' to attend service at 
the Atocha. There is an ancient statue 
of the Virgin in this church, which is 
held in high veneration in Spain. In 
the chapel, on the loft on entering, is 
the mausoleum I'aised to the memory of 
Marshal Prim, who unwittingly did good 
work for the young king, and whose end 
was tragic enough to h.ave pleased his 
worst enemies. 1 observed with some 
amusement that two members of the 
corps of gendarmes were sufficient to 
control the movements of six or seven 
thousand impatient people on the Puerta 
del Sol. In New York or Paris two 
hundred policemen certainly would have 
been necessary. The soldiers, who 
were ranged in rows on either side of 
the route chosen for the royal pair to 
pass over going to and coming from the 
church, wore treated with small deference 
by the crowd ; but it was mortally afraid 
of the gendannes. 

It was announced that the king would 
leave the palace at eleven o'clock ; but 
this was too nnich to expect of a Span- 
iard, who is never ready at the appointed 
time, although exactitude is said to be 



94 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



tin- politouess of sovereigns; and it was 
nearly niid-daj' when a hum in the erowd, 
and the nni.sie of the military bands 
announeed the y<nuig monarch's coming. 
The tirst item in the royal procession 
was a very gayly liveried gentleman, 
mounted on a horse laden with two 
drums. He looked something like the 
advance-guard of a rustic circus. From 
time t(.> time he lieat a doleful measure 
on the drums. Just behind him were 
twelve trumpeters, clad iu ancient cos- 
tumes, and next came twenty-two led- 
horses, beautifully caparisoned. Behind 
the heralds and the led-horses were 
lancers, '/ciKlanni's, and a few Court 
officials ; then came a long procession of 
state carriages, twenty-three in number. 
These ancient vehicles, swung high be- 
tween ponderous wheels and balance- 
springs, \vitli which not even the misery 
of a Siianish highway could interfere, 
lumbered past the throng without elicit- 
ing a single cheer. It was amusing to 
witness tiie coldness of the reception. 
One might have fancied the populace 
contemplating the passage of an enemy's 
troops through its country. On the l*u- 
erta del Sol not a hat was lifted, and but 
few ladies waved handkerchiefs when the 
king's carriage came in sight. This car- 
riage was an enormous structure, with a 
ci'own on its riMif, and with great win- 
dows, through which the crowd miglit 
note every movement of its sovereign. 
It was preceded by four and six h(.)rse 
carriages, and by a multitude of out- 
riders, footmen, and jockeys. The dis- 
plav of plumes and rich silver and gold 
trappinu's, and of housings centuries 
old. w:is (|uite dazzling. The king's car- 
riage was tlrawn by eight white horses, 
covered with i)lumes and with silver dec- 
orations. The young king was sedate, 
and bowed rejieatedly to right and left, 
although no one paid the slightest atten- 



tion to nis couitesies. As the king's 
carriage passed the Jliuisterio de la Go- 
bernacion a long procession of state car- 
riages, containing the Archduchess Chris- 
tina — so soon to be the queen — and her 
suite, came into view, and bugles sounded 
anew. A thrill (.)f nuisic ran along the 
martial lines, and the monarch and his 
liride moved on to the Atoeha through 
the Carera de San .Jeronirao. Nothing 
could have been prettier than the rich 
contrasts of color in velvets lined with 
silver, banners and uniforms ; and the 
military disi)lay was quite beautiful. 
The olticials of the Court were legion. 

Queen Isabel always had a special 
affection for the Atoeha, and bestowed 
upon it the most magnificent gifts. 
After the events of 1872 it was iu this 
same chiu-ch that one of her successors, 
King Amadi'o the tirst and last, went to 
view the cori)se of General Prim, whose 
nmriler had added another and notable 
one to the long list of Spanish political 
assassinations. Doha Isabel was quite 
overcome bv her visit to the church on 
the w<Mlding-day ; and when she cntei'cd 
with the procession, and the patriarch of 
the Indies came bowing fVirward to offer 
lier t\iv liolv water, sheweiit.and a[)peared 
likely to faint. Perhaps she was think- 
ing of the fleeting nature of this world's 
pleasures, anil that the chin'ch in which 
her sou was then to lie married might 
serve in the futiu'e for more melancholy 
ceremonies in connection with her family 
than those of matrimony. 

There was a stately c<impany in the 
little <-liureh. The gentlemen of the 
household seemed numerous enough for 
a legislature. There was the suite of 
the Infanta Dona Christina, the suite of 
ex-Queen Isabel, the first groom, the 
major domo of service, the Dukes of 
Sexto and Encedo, and the Count of 
PWar. The ex-queen entered the church 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



95 



to the music of the Royal I\Inrch, and 
she, as well as the king and the arch- 
duchess were received at the d(jor by the 
Papal Nuncio, who is a most important 
personage in such a Catholic country as 
Spain, and l)y a multitude of richly 
robed priests. Among thr great ladies 



the archduchess ; and a host of pretty 
princesses. Dona Isabel wore a crown 
of diamonds, and a sumptuous mantle 
covered with gold lace and ornaments, 
the train of which was upheld by two 
stately gentlemen. The king was in the 
uniform of a captain-general, with the 




WEDDING OF ALFONSO XH. 



present, looking intensely, and some of 
them rather sternly, at the future queen as 
she came up the central aisle, were the 
Duchesses of Medina Cceli, Almodova 
del Valle ; the Countess of Toveno Caste- 
jon and Viamanuel ; the Marchioness of 
Santa Cruz ; the Duchess of Fernand- 
Nunez, of Ahuniada ; the Duchess of 
Bailen, wife of him who was sent to 
Vienna offlcially to demand the h;ind of 



Order of the Golden Fleece and an 
Austrian (ield-marshal's scarf. 

The young archduchess seemed to float 
into the church in a cloud, so voluminous 
was her veil of white, heavily bordered 
with silver lace. When it was lifted 
back, her toilette excited a general cry of 
admiration, so rich was it in embroideries 
of flowers and leaves in gold and silver, 
and laurels and white roses in profusion. 



9(3 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



The duuk'in wliii'h crowueil Irt licad was 
of pearls, sucli as only the Ilai)sbiirgs, 
the richest family in the world, can show. 
The arehducliess was nmrtally pale. 
The spiteful ladies of the Court said it 
was because of the weight of the robe 
and the velvets which she wore. But 
she soou recovered, and arrived, smiliug, 
at the grand altar, which was illuminated 
with hundreds of lights; and tliere she 
met the king, who took her by the hand. 
Then came the usual Catholic ceremonial 
of marriage, the signing of the act, and 
the benediction by the Patriarch of the 
Indies, — all of which was of brief dura- 
tion. Those who ha\o never seen the 
splendors of a Court can form but a 
small idea of the richness of the loiletfe.'i 
of the ladies who witnessed this spec- 
tacle. Many of the beauties wore two 
bands of velvet eml.)r<.>idered with silver, 
which are emblematic of their rank ; and 
ou their glossy braids diadems worth 
fortunes rested. The mantles, the 
dresses, the collars, the corsages, were 
all of the richest material. One could 
well have fancied, in looking at this 
sui)erb disjihiv of luxurious dresses, 
that Si)ain was i>ne vl' the richest, ratlier 

than one of tlu' \ rest, countries in 

Europe. It is a source of periietual 
wonder to a stranger in Spain, where the 
mone}' comes from for the tens of thou- 
sands of soldiers and oflicers elegantly 
dressed, as well as I'm' the luxury of 
private and pulilic palaces and mansions. 
The wedding atl'orded the chance for a 
grand display of foreign uniforms. Lonl 
Napier was n)agnilicent in his scarlet, 
and was accompanied Ijv some extremely 
handsome young Englishmen. The 
Frer.ch Enil)assy shone like a golden 
star. The sombre blue-black of tlie 
Prussians stood out in bold relief against 
the splendors of the garments of their 
late enemies, the Austriaus and the 



Gauls. The delegation of tiie belles of 
Vienna, who accompanied the arch- 
duchess, made the beautiful JIadrid 
women handle iheir fans with as nervous 
and jealous an air as if they had been 
stilettoes. 

After the wedding came the visits of 
the legislative l>odies, the Council of 
State, and the municipal organizations, 
to the palace ; and fm the following day 
was held a ceremonial which is seen in 
few monarchical countries, the Bai.se- 
■main, or a defile before the king and 
queen at the palace, and the kissing of 
the hitter's hand by all the represent- 
atives of all the different branches of 
the national authority. This was a 
brilliant reception w-hich repeated the 
splenilors of the gathering in the Atocha 
chapel. The Council of State arrived 
at the palace in a lot of f)ld carriages, 
which looked as if they were invented 
liefore the time of CUilumlius. as very 
likely thev were. The royal palace is 
■\-ery grand within, though it is not very 
impressive without. In the great Hall 
of the Ambassadors, the young king 
stood in front of his throne, with the 
new (luecn on jiis right, looking very 
pale and pretty in her splendid gar- 
ments, laden witli embroideries and cov- 
ered with golden feurs-de-lis. On her 
lieail she wore a golden crown, gar- 
nished with costly diamonds. Near her 
stood the Princess of the Asturias, 
dressed in r(jse-colored satin, and the 
king's two other sisters in fdiUe rose. 
Not far from the king and cpieen stood 
the Court, a brilliant collection of all 
tlie ladies and gentlemen of rank in 
the kingdom, the representatives at the 
C(jurt antl the generals of the army. 
The ceremonial required that no one 
should touch the king's hand with his 
or with her hand, but only with the 
lips, and that after having used the 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



97 



pocket hiindlcerchief . Dona Isabel re- 
ceived in her own rooms in another 
■wing of the palace, and the day finished 
with a grand ball at the opera. 

Five years have passed since the 
wedding, and the yonng king is still in 
his place, although revolution has sev- 
eral times raised its head. The strength 
of his position is due merely to the in- 
numerable petty differences of the Lib- 
erals, and to the weakness of the lower 
classes, because of their ignorance. 
Out of the sixteen or seventeen mil- 
lions i)f people in Spain not more tlian 
one-fourth can claim accpiaintance with 
the accomplishments of reading and 
writing. Furthermore, the knowledge 
of events transpiring in the outside 
world is so limited tliat a campaign 
speaker, if he were allowed by the gov- 
ernment any chance to express hie 
views, would scarcely be understood 
by his constituents or by those whom 
he desired to make his constituents. 
Even rich peasants and men of high 
rank are grossly i<>norant of what is 
transpiring in their own country. The 
perpetual " I don't know," with wliich 
every question is answered iu Spain, 
becomes exasperating to a stranger. 
The facilities for anything like rapid 
interconimuuication are so limited that 
the masses mingle but little together. 
Each remains rooted to his place, sur- 
rounded by a flowering growth of tra- 
ditions, superstitions, and prejudices. 
Each imagines that an army which can 
act as mediator in an}- important dis- 
pute is a good thing, and it seems as 
natural to a Spaniard to hear the trum- 
pets sound the death-knell of a short- 
lived revolution as to note the ringing 
of the vesper bells in the old cathedral 
which casts its shadow on his dwelling. 

The monarchists are very fond of re- 
minding; Castelar that when he was 



president of the short-lived Eepublic 
he found it necessary to become Dicta- 
tor, and that at Carthagena and else- 
where he had announced that one of 
the principal needs of Spain was more 
infantrj', more cavahy, and more artil- 
lery. In short, monarchy finds an 
excuse for its existence in the assump- 
tion that it alone can maintain order. 
When the people cease to Iielieve this, 
and are united, some great convulsion, 
like that at Valencia, will talie place in 
eacli of the principal cities and districts, 
and — But we will ncit prophesy. 

I have spoken of Castelar, who is 
undoubtedly the greatest Spaniard of 
his time, and towers like a giant even 
among the celebrities with whom he is 
surrounded. Madrid is lilled with 
scholars, poets, and men of letters, 
whose reputation ought, although it 
does not succeed in doing so, to cross 
the Pyrenees. There are notable poets 
and romancers in Spain, who are quite 
the equals, if not in some respects the 
sui)eriois, of their Frcncli contempora- 
ries. 

The gentlemen who are lilieral and re- 
pulilican in sentiment are grouped al)out 
Castelar, and at the private receptions in 
the capital politics and literature are 
carefully and earnestly discussed, al- 
though in the newspapers and in public 
halls the government would forbid such 
license. I was glad of an opportunity 
to meet Castelar in his own house, and 
at one of his weekly receptions, which 
look place a day or two after the con- 
clusion of the wedding festivities. Senor 
Castelar was not seen in public during 
these festivals, although he is by no 
means shunned by the royal family, all 
of whom have the most cordial admira- 
tion for his talents. 

Castelar lives iu the Calle de Serrano, 
iu a fine new quarter of Madrid, in one 



98 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



of those huge apartment-houses which 
the Spaniards have built in imitation of 
those in Paris and Vienna. The orator 
and statesman receives once or twice a 
week ; but as he is a bachelor, residing 
with his sister, who has alwaj's cared for 
his household affairs, he has only gentle- 
men at his entertainments. The deputies, 
journalists, poets, novelists, savants, 
come and go in the most informal fashion. 
I found the great orator in one of his 
good moods, when he felt like talking, and 
discovered tLiat when he was in this vein 
everybody listened with reverence and 
attention. There is a rare magnetism in 
his presence, which is peculiarly fascinat- 
ing. An im|iression of snperaiuiudant 
vitality, an infinite reservoir, from whicii 
he caufreelydraw at unexpected moments 
for sudden and unlooked-for inspiration, 
is always gained from a conversation 
with C'astelar. He is one of the men 
born under a happy star. Dowered with 
strange and peculiar gifts, he combines 
the richness of a pnetic nature with the 
forethought and sagacity of a patriot and 
politician. Perhaps there are those who 
would denj' C'astelar the union of these 
two qualities, but time will show tliat he 
possesses them in high degree. 

Castelar dijes not look as if the world 
wearied him. He is still young and 
active, and full of the Spanish politeness 
and grace. He has a noble, animated 
lace, firm, and full of decision, and a 
pair of well-made lips, .shaded by a 
dense black mustache. The top of the 
head is bald, • — a tribute (laid to hard 
study. He is quite unostentatious in 
dress and manner. In conversation he 
expressed the liveliest sympathy and 
admiration for the United States, and 
especially for the talents of Mr. James 
Russell Lowell, who was so acceptable 
a minister to JIadrid. "I w.is," said 
Castelar, " a Arm friend to the North 



during the revolution of the Southern 
States against the gener.al government, 
and sometimes I had to encounter for- 
mid.able opposition." This led to a great 
debate on the slavery question of Cuba, 
which was then pending in the Cortes. 
Castelar said little concerning the future 
of Cuba, except that there was no longer 
danger of its being a bone of contention 
between Spain and the United States. 
He said in tlie debate he should be found 
as usual on the side of liberty, and iu 
ftivor of emancipation of every wretched 
black in Cnlja. 

I asked Castelar if he felt that the 
Eepulilie would come again in Spain. 
" Jlost certainly," he said ; '• the country 
is republican. The restored monarchy 
has not taken root. Republican princi- 
ples are well enough established in the 
IHililic mind, but they are not entirely 
understood. Great numbers of our peo- 
ple still have a certain fondness for ab- 
solutism." A moment afterwards he 
alluiU'(l in a jocose vein to the great 
number of constitutions which Spain has 
promulgated within the last two genera- 
tions. He lias a (irofouud contempt for 
those politicians who fancied that they 
could make the Spanish people all over 
in a day by writing them a creed to live 
mider. Castelar did good work during 
his brief tenure of executive i)ower. He 
did not hesitate to break aw.ay from the 
[iroject in favor of federalism when he 
saw it was doing the country harm. If 
the asseml)ly had not been weak and 
vacillating he would not have been com- 
pelled to resign, and the Spanish Repub- 
lic might have been in existence to-day. 
He drove the spectres of socialism and 
extreme federalism back to the darlcness 
out of which tliey had come. He insisted 
upon the necessity of education. When 
he demanded the renewal of his powers 
Ijy the Assembly, in January, 1871, he set 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



99 



down as a cardinal principle, that theeraof 
popular uprising' and pronnnciaiKicntos 
must be closed forever. But Pavia witli 
his troops came in, and, said Castolar. 
it was too late. There was not a more 
deserted man in Spain 
than himself. So Serrano 
took up the burden of 
power, and carried it 
until the arrival of the 
young Alfonso. 

" Castelar," said a 
Spanish nolilemau to me, 
" is the reputjlican party 
in Spain. Without him 
it would fall into a hun- 
dred fragments. lie puts 
the breath of life into 
its nostrils. If he w'ere 
to withdraw his support 
from it, it would expire 
of inanition." Another 
influential Spanish gen- 
tleman said that Castelar 
was impracticable and 
unworldly to a certain 
extent in many things, 
but possessed the exact 
knf)wledge of the con- 
flicting elements of Span- 
ish Republicanism neces- 
sarj- to bring out of them 
the little harmony possi- 
ble. Castelar learned 
Opportunism from Ci-am- 
betta ; in fact, he would, 
I think, be willing to 
admit this. If he is an 
Opportunist to-day it is 
because he has seen 
that little can be ac- 
accomplished in a day or a month in re- 
establishing liberty, but that the slow 
progress of years alone can give impor- 
tant results. After the flight of Doiia 
Isabel and the uprising of Cariists, ilo'l- 



erates. Communists, Progressists, Mon- 
archical Democrats, and Republicans 
desii'ous of federal form, and after the 
dazzling events from 18G8 until the 
" Restoration," he is justified in suppos- 




CASTELAR AT HOME. 

iug that the country needs rest before 
venturing upon a final effort for the re- 
estalilishment of her ancient lilierties. 

Castelar in the Legislative Assembly as 
an orator is a demigod. Gambetta at 



100 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



limes was wondorful. Cftstelar is ofteu 
suliliine. Gainl)etta had eleotrie effects 
of eloqueuce which ajipalled and some- 
times auiiihilatcd his enemies. Castelar 
seems to lift his hearers into the seventh 
lieaven, and to move them witli hiin 
among the golden vapors of the dawn. 
Gambetta was crashing : Castel ir is 
persuasive. Gambetta was vindictive ; 
Castelar is of too large a mould to con- 
descend to vengeance. Both orators will 
be cln'onicled in history as having pos- 
sessed unlimited command of metaphors 
and lovely imagery, never degenerating 
into the commonplace. Castelar says 
that he is nervous on days when he is 
to speak in the Cortes. He wanders 
about restlessly among his friends, ex- 
pressing doubts as to his power of self- 



contiol. One might almost fancy him 
at these times a scliool-boy about to 
speaiv his first piece ; but when once he 
has begun, in sonorous voice, everything 
like fear vanishes, and he pours forth a 
flood of irresistible argument, clothed in 
exquisitely felicitous language. It is 
odd that Castelar's voice, which in ordi- 
nary conversation has a certain soft, 
feminine quality in it, is clear, robust, 
and harmonious in the tribune. Wlien he 
is tremendously excited, as on the occa- 
sion of his great speech in favor of 
liberty of conscience and freedom of 
public worshii), maile in April of 1809, 
the voice is inexpressibly grand. One 
seems to hear tlie soul speaking without 
any hindrance wliatever. 



EUROrE IN STORM AND CALM. 



lOi 



CHAPTER TEN. 

The Bull-Fight in Madrid liefore the Kin{; and Queen. — Eight Bulls Slaughtei-ed. — A Strange Spoi't. 
— Excitement ot the Populace. — The Matador. — Duels between Men and Beasts. 



AT one of the exhibitions of paint- 
ings in the Paris Palace of Indus- 
try a promising Anierieaii artist showed 
a picture of a combat between an As- 
syrian monarch and a lion in an 
arena, where thousands of spectators 
were assembled to witness the daring of 
their king. As I sat in the Plaza de 
Toros of the Spanish capital on the oc- 
casion of the great bull-fight given in 
celebration of the wedding festivities of 
King Alfonso and Queen Christina, 
while watching the bull who had just 
bounded in from his cage and was stand- 
ing with his head proudly raised, ej'ing 
the populace of Madrid and tlie gayly 
uniformed butchers awaiting him, — ■ this 
picture came distinctly before my 
eyes, and I was startled by the thought, 
that, in our modern day, more than nine- 
teen centuries after the inauguration of 
an era supposed to be one of mercy, 
forbearance, and peace, the world is as 
brutal and unmerciful as everitwas in the 
dim ages of barltarism. I cannot explain 
the revolt whieli then took place in my 
spirit ; I might call it an insurrection 
of conscience, because I had allowed 
myself to have assisted at so murderous 
and bloody a sport as a bull-fight. I 
def}' any one who has not been hardened 
to this monstrous sight to feel otherwise 
than criminal when he first gets an idea 
of the atrocious horror of it. But enough 
of preliminary moralizing. 

When the royal wedding was an- 
nounced it was naturally decided that 
bull-fights should be among the festivi- 



ties. Had there lieen any disposition 
to refuse them there might have been 
something like a riot. Time has been 
when the people in the immense plaza 
have cried out, •' Death to the Mayor 1 " 
because he would not allow them to wit- 
ness the killing of one or two more bulls 
than were promised in the programme. 
''Bread and Shows" were the necessities 
which not even tyrants dared deny the 
ancient Romans. " Bread and Bulls, 
Pan y Toros," are the prime needs of 
the modern Spaniards. Not even the 
gentlest Spanish woman finds it extraor- 
dinary that her children should witness 
a bull-fight. In Madrid there are 
twenty-foin- exhibitions yearly- : on Mon- 
days, from April t(j October, or some- 
times on Sundays, • — for Sunday is in 
Spain, as in France, the people's favorite 
holidaj'. All over Spain tliere are liuU- 
rings which rival the colossal dimen- 
sions of the amphitheatres of the Romans. 
Valencia possesses one, which, at a dis- 
tance, looks as imposing as the Roman 
Coliseum. " And what ! " say the Span- 
iards ; '• what 1 shall we give up a game 
inaugurated by him of illustrious and 
immortal memory, the Cid Campeador : 
he who, in the arena, with his own lance, 
slew wild bulls by the score?" 

The Arabs have the credit of introduc- 
ing the cruel pastime into Spain ; but it 
was the Cid who gave it its real impetus. 
After he had set the example all the 
youths of the nobility copied it, and at 
solemn festivals the corrida de toros 
was one of the main features. The 



102 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



honor of fitihtiiio; tlio IniU on great days 
was accord; d only to the nol:)ility. An 
orduiary mortal was not supposed to 
possess the requisite strengtli and sci- 
ence. Throughout the middle ages luill- 
fighting was tlie favorite amusement of 
warriors in these southern lands. When 
Isa))el the Catholic tried to [irohibit the 
ghastly fun she found she did not pos- 
sess influence enough to do it. After her 
time the sport became so popular that 
Charles the Great did not disdain with 
his own hand to slay a bull upon tlie 
raarliet-place of Valladolid. Pizarro, 
who conquered Tern, was a brave bull- 
fighter, and so was King Sebastian of 
Portugal. Philip III. a<lorned the bull- 
rinir (^f Madrid with statues and liannei's ; 
Philip IV. fought therein; Charles II. 
loved the game ; Philip V. issued an 
official order tliat liull-riugs should be 
constructed throughout the kingdom. 

All these days no man of the people 
was allowed to enter the arena, and it 
was not until tlie middle of the eigh- 
teenth centurv that peasants . and com- 
mon folk in genei-al were permitted to 
become professional Inrcnin. Francisco 
Romero de Ronda introduced the usage 
of fighting the bull on foot, sword in 
hand ; and from his time date the fixed 
rules of this diliicult art, which in our 
days have hail such illustrious i)rofessors 
as Frascuelo, Lagartijo, and Alonzo. 
Queen Isabel was an enthusiastic patron 
of the sport. Amadeo, of Italy, pre- 
tended to like it, while he was King of 
Spain ; but it is to be presumed that his 
delicate and refined nature suffered tor- 
tures at the sight. How can the present 
king refuse to attend upon and support 
with all liis influence an institution as 
truly national in Spain as the .Sabbath- 
school in the United States? 

The Plaza de Toros of Madrid is 
supposed by dint of much crowding 



to accommodate sixteen thousand i)er- 
sons, although there are seats for only a 
few more than twelve thousand. For 
the two courses in honor of the royal 
wedding festivities there were more 
tiian fifty thousand applicants above the 
number which could be accommodated. 
Theoretienlly, no tickets were sold, and 
every one was invited; but I will not 
dwell on that point, as, through the 
courtesy (jf Senor Saturuiiio Estebau 
CoUantes, deputy in the Cortes, and a 
gentleman of distinction, I received in- 
vitations for both occasions. Hundreds 
of people from Madrid, Vienna, and 
London went aw.ny growling and disap- 
(lointed, because they could not succeed 
ill gaining admission. The tickets of 
invitation were conceived as follows: — 



Pr.AZA DK ToRdS. 

La Corrida Extraurdinaria 
Con niotivu did liegio Enlace. 



Ten (.lido Num. 

Este billete es de convite y no puede 
vcnderse. El contraventor sera puesto 
a disposicion de la Autoridad. 



There were several thousand guests of 
rank and importance to jilace, for the 
ambassadors extraordinary of the Aus- 
trian delegation which accompanied the 
archduchess, now become the Queen of 
Spain, had brought in their train half 
the fashionable world. So there re- 
mained small place for the populace ; 
yet the populace w.as there. How it 
got in I do not know ; but there it was, 
palpitating with savage delight at every 
pitiful throe of disembowelled horse or 
dying bull, yelling maledictions upon an 
unsuccessful incador or cajjeador, and 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



103 



breaking forth into the most extravagant 
expressions of delight and affection 
when an espada di<l his work well. 

The bull-ring, to call it by the prosaic 
English term, which best translates the 
high-sounding Plaza de Toros, is alxnit 
a mile and a half from the centre of the 
city, on the outskirts of the barren plains 
which environ Madrid. It is reached l)y 
passing a superb archway, erected lij' 
Chai'les III., on the hill overlooking the 
Prado and the surrounding country, and 
thence by a long avenue, bordered on 
either hand by elegant mansions, superb 
villas, and finally by manufactories, 
slaughter-houses, forges, and all the 
unsavory and unsightly appendages of a 
great city. On the day of this bull-fight 
the crowd, the invited and the uninvited, 
all went in a long procession down the 
broad and handsome Calle de Alcala, 
past the Prado, and through the gardens 
and avenues, in delighted haste, anxious 
to note every detail of the festival. 
Hundreds of omnibuses, filled with holi- 
daj'-makers, pushed madly towards the 
centre of attraction. I will spare the 
reader any account of the epithets which 
the drivers of these vehicles applied to 
their horses, as few of the words are 
suited to Saxon ears polite. Men, 
women, and children, dressed with ex- 
cellent taste, hurried to the plaza with 
anticipations of joy written on their 
features. The beggars forgot to lieg 
as thej- watched the lords and ladies. 
Brown Andalusians, in tattered cloaks, 
once magnificent, gazed sharply, as if 
picking out the person whom thej' had 
been told to assassinate. Muleteers and 
merchants, foreigners and natives, beau- 
ties and hags, old and young, poured 
along the roadwaj-s, babbling open-lipped 
and merrily ; and when the\- reached the 
yawning gate of the ring they ran tuinult- 
uously through the lines of gendarmes 



to their appointed places, as if fearful 
lest they might lose a single detail of the 
performance. 

The ring is solidly built, and the gates 
through which the animals are admitted 
are of immense thickness. Huge corri- 
dors run round it, between the seats and 
the outer wall, and doors open upon 
stairways which lead to the various gal- 
leries. The politeness of .Senor Collantes 
had placed me in the front rank in the 
lower gallery, in what we should call an 
orchestra st.all in a theatre, and at a 
point from whence I could well observe 
the king and queen and their suite. 
Once or twice during the afternoon it 
seemed to me that my seat was decidedly 
too near the ring, and I should have been 
glad to move. 

I had not been long seated before I 
discovered that the audience, or collec- 
tion of on-lookers, was intensely excited. 
Shouts arose answering shouts. The 
vast arena seemed to tremble under the 
concussion of sound. The arrival of anv 
well-known person was the signal for a 
roar, which must have made the bulls 
quake in their prison. Officials ran to 
and fro, settling disputes between new- 
comers ; water-carriers and cigar-sellers 
screamed out the virtues of their wares, 
and from the upper galleries came clam- 
ors for the appearance of the popular 
favorites. The Iialconies were sumptu- 
ously decorated with orange and yellow, 
and with red velvet ; and crowns and 
coats-of-arms in different places indicated 
the presence of nobility. High up above 
all the galleries save one was the royal 
loge ; and, hearing the band playing the 
march which aimounced the arrival of 
the King, I turned to see him. 

Alfonso XII. arrived briskly, dressed 
in a captain-general's uniform, with a 
cap entirely covered with gold lace. He 
had much improved in appearance since 



104 



EUROPE TN fITOUM AND CALM. 



his residence in Paris and X'ienna. Side- 
whiskers and mustache gave a manly 
looiv to his face, and his manners were 
simple and unaffected. The young 
l^ueen wore a white mantilla upon her 
glossy braids. She sat down beside the 
King on the front ranlv, and there soon 
ap|)eared behind the youthful pair the 
benevolent faces of numerous venerable 
Spanish and Austrian generals. Next 
came Dona Isabel and her pretty daugh- 
ters, and then an enormous following of 
ladies and gentlemen of the Court, who 
took possession of either side of the bal- 
cony. A large delegation of Austrian 
otlicers, their breasts glittering with 
dozens of decorations, sat on the side 
next the Queen. Alfonso XII. took up 
his opera-glass, and surveyed the audi- 
ence. AVhen the royal mareli was fin- 
ished he raised his handkerchief, and 
made a signal. A chorus of bugles 
sounded from a balcony opposite the 
King and Queen. Gates were thrown 
open just beneath this balcony, and 
there entered — 

No,' — not a bull, but a long and stately 
procession, which transijorted us back to 
the days of chivalry. First came the 
masters of ceremonies, dressed in Court 
suits of black velvet, and mounted on 
prancing steeds. Next followed a 
drunmier on horseback, a large drum 
suspended on either side of his horse's 
saddle. Then came four heralds, sound- 
ing bugles ; idguazih ; a i)rovincial dele- 
gation ; then, in state carriages, the 
protectors of the turrmlors of the occa- 
sion. These protectors are gentlemen of 
rank, who deign to confer the shadow 
of their dignity on the popular favorites. 
Beside these coaches, glittering in satin 
costumes in which all the colors of 
the rainbow were ine.xtricablv mingled, 
walked the men who were to fight the 
bulls on foot; wiiile lieliind them, 



mounted on starved-looking horses, came 
the picadors, wicked fellows, clad iu 
liraided jackets, buckskin hose, gar- 
nished witliin witii stiff iron supports, 
so that when their horses fell upon them 
they might not have their legs broken. 
These picadors were armed with enor- 
mous lances, pointed with sharp blades. 

Next in order was a small army of 
servants, dressed in scarlet jackets 
(forsooth, in a bull-ring!), and the rear 
was brought up with teams oi mules, 
harnessed three abreast, and driven bj- 
picturesque brigands, whose duty was to 
be the clearing of the ring of the dead 
horses and bulls encumliering it. The 
[irocession wheeled round in front of the 
royal hjijc, and every [lerson in it made 
low bows, to which the King responded 
by a stiff military salute. The trum- 
pets sounded loudly, and the procession 
went its ways, breaking up into fragments 
in various places in the ring. In front 
of the series of galleries which led to the 
royal box, and directly in the ring, stood 
a large corps of halberdiers, without any 
protection. The mishaps of these gen- 
tlemen at arms at frequent Intervals 
dining tlie performance were sources of 
innneuse and long-continued merriment 
to the crowd. 

And now the jiicadors, on their horses, 
held their lances at rest ; the marshals 
retired to a corner, looking somewhat 
uneasy ; tiie corps of capeadors, matadorts, 
and esj)ad<is approached the barrier of 
the ring, behind which ran a corridor 
separating us, the spectators, by a short 
distance from the arena. This corridor 
was patrolled by geiidannes, court ofli- 
cials in lilaek, and by the friends of the 
performers in tlie ring. There were a 
few moments of silence ; then a deep 
'• Ah I '' burst from the assemblage, and, 
looking over across the ring, I saw a 
niaijnilicent bull standing in front of the 



Ed ROPE LV SrORH AND CALM. 



10.- 




106 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



gates, which were closing behind him. 
The Queen liad given the signal with her 
handlverchief. I looked up at her, and 
she luul half risen from her seat, as 
thoiigli she were anxious to go awa_y. 
But an instant after she sat down again, 
and was apparently calm. 

The bull took a careful look at every- 
body. He seemed good-natured, and I 
thought that if I had been near hini I 
should have liked to pull his tail. But 
what was my surprise when he advanced 
with a long " lope," which quickly 
changed into a wild run ; and before 
any one could divert his attention he 
hatl plunged his horns into the flanks of 
the horse of one of the masters of cere- 
monies. The poor beast darted forward, 
the blood gushing from his wounds, and 
the spectators began to yell t<j their 
favorites — the men in satin and rainbow- 
colors — to begin the combat. At once 
an agile fellow sprang directly in front 
of the bull, holding a bright red cloak 
before the infuriated animal's eyes. 
Master bull made a lunge at it. The 
nimble cape-bearer stepped aside, and 
another fluttered an orange-colored cloak 
at the bull's nose. Then half-a-dozen 
others appeared. The bull did not know 
which way to turn. He pawed the earth ; 
he snorted. Suddenly, selecting one 
who was most dai-ing, he went after him 
with such vindictive force that the man 
paled, ran, and lightly as a feather 
leaped the barrier unhurt. The bull 
turned to another. Up and away went 
the airy fellow, almost between the bull's 
horns ; yet safe, and grinning with the 
excitement. 

The bull was now terrible in his wrath ; 
and at this moment he noted a p/eaf7o7% 
sitting motionless on his horse, with his 
lance ready. I arose in my seat, and, if 
I could, I should have fled, for it iced 
my blood to see both rider and horse go 



into tlie air, and the next moment to 
witness the agonies of the disenibowelled 
horse. The picador was lying Ijeneath 
jiis beast. Was he dead? No. He was 
helped up, looking black and ugly, and 
he took off his hat to the King. What 
had he done? There was a gaping 
wound in the bull's shoulders, and the 
bull had withdrawn a few paces, and was 
thinking what to do next. Around him 
once more were fluttering the agile 
capeadors ; capes and cloaks were danc- 
ing before the bull's vision. He rushed 
hither and yon, aiming at death and de- 
struction. What was mj' horror to see 
the horse which had just been gored 
once more in the fray, his merciless rider 
charging him down upon the bull, while 
the entrails dragged on the ground. 
Some Spaniards laughed ; others, more 
merciful, shouted, '■'Ftwra!" (Out with 
the horse). But no; the bull had him 
once more on his horns, and tore and 
rent him. while thep»c«cto)-, lying coolly 
behind tiie dying creature, lacerated the 
flank of his antagonist. It was horrible. 
I looked up at the young Queen. She 
had turned her eyes away, but a moment 
later, at the intimation of the King, she 
made a signal. 

Trumpets sounded, and the picador 
was extricated from his perilous position, 
while the men with the capes occupied 
the bull's attention. This was the signal 
to retire the horses, and to let the hande- 
rdleros begin their work. The baiide- 
rillero comes on at the second stage of a 
Inill-fight. I felt glad to see the horses 
retire, and 1 noticed that I no longer felt 
sorry for the bull, since I had seen how 
devilish he was in his work. I was glad 
to know that it was to be put out of the 
way. Probablv I was becoming brutal- 
ized. 

The bull was enraged because the 
horses were withdrawn, but thus far he 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



107 



felt that he hnd had the best of it. 
Still he looked his antagonists over in 
his steady, resolved way, aud seemed 
saying to them, " What will j'ou have 
next?" 

He was not long without an answer. 
A daring fellow, in green tights, white 
silk stockings, aud a jacket blazing with 
gold and jewels, ran up in front of him, 
holdina; in eacli iiand a flexible dart, en- 



iu the bull was aroused ; his motions 
were twice as rapid as before. Thou- 
sands of voices were screaming advice 
from the benches : Rafael, mind your 
steps! Well, well ! Muybien! Laijar- 
tijo! dciHOtiio! Anda ! Anda! Now, 
run for it ! Homhre ! What an ass ! 
burro! hurritol Go home aud bury 
yourself. Fuera! Caramba! There he 
had it ! O my angel ! O Alonzo ! 




THE BULL HAS THE BEST OF IT. 



veloped in straw at one end. Quick as 
lightning the bull sprang at him, but the 
man went to one side, and the two darts 
were sticking in the animal's neck. It was 
as swift as thought. The batiileriUosmade- 
the bull crazy with rage. He shook him- 
self, lint they entered more deeply into 
the skin ; he foamed at the mouth ; he 
was terrible. He ran at a knot of his 
enemies, and frightened them so that 
they fled in confusion, leaping tlie barrier. 
But others came ; new banderillos were 
stuck in the poor brute's hide. They 
whizzed through the air, some of them 
bearing little banners. Now all the devil 



Bravo ! Here he comes ! Es un toro ! 
Idiot! Can't you throw? Look out — 
look out — look out ! Is he dead ? No, 
not even scratched, but rather pale. Ah ! 
the bull's tongue is out. No no I Si si ! 
No Jiombre! Si Caballero! Oh! oh! 
oh! Dios ! Enough, enough of bande- 
rillos! La Espada! The matador, — 
where isthekiller, the brave, the beautiful 
matador? Ah 1 there he is ! See! He 
is coming ! How beautiful his costume ! 
'T'is satin. Ho! ho! ho! LaEspada! 
Hist ! There he is, kneeling before the 
king ! Now he takes off his hat aud 
raises his arm. Now he makes his 



108 



EUROPE hV STORM AND CALM. 



speech, and thrusts his cap awa_y with a 
great sweeping gesture. It is as if he 
threw awa^y his life at the same time. 
Si, Hombre ! Bravo Toro! Bravo el 
matador ! Ho I ho ! ho ! ho ! ho-o-o-o-o ! 
Caramha ! " 

Then a great silence fell. 

The matador took a red cloak in his 
hand, holding concealed beneath it a 
sword, short and stout of blade. He 
stepped gracefully and briskly to the 
bull, and held the red cloak directly 
before his e^'es. Bull flew at it. The 
matador made a false step, saved himself, 
and looked up, pale and quivering, to 
hear a tempest of maledictions. The bull 
was after him again, and followed him. 
Lightly as thistledown flew to the rescue 
a dozen riijica.dors, who fluttered their 
cloaks in the bull's vision until he was 
diverted from his victim. Then they 
gradually brought him to a stand-still, 
and the matador came before him anew. 

Now began a horrible duel between 
man and beast. The cloth was within 
the bull's reach. He plunged at it, and 
seemed to annihilate the /iiatador. But 
no ; the man was always out of reach, 
and liis gleaming blade was playing in 
the air. Tlic bull was at hand. The 
cloak was before him. Ssst ! Down 
came the sword between the animal's 
fore-siioulders. But the bull, with a nolile 
and impetuous motion, threw it out of the 
wound, from which the blood poured in 
large streams. Tlie matador drew an- 
other sword, and the duel began again. 
Each time that he stalibed the beast but 
slightly the crowd cursed him. Then 
he redoubled his energy, and seemed to 
lose his iirudcnce. By and by he made 
a flying leap. Every one stood up, think- 
ing to see him gored to death. But no ; 
he stood some yards away, itointing to the 
bull, in whose shoulders a sword was 
planted to the hilt. The King languidly 



applauded with his white-gloved hands. 
And the spectators ! It was Bedlam. 

The bull struggled, but the dreadful 
sword sapped his life. He rushed and 
ran, frotiiing, upon the agile cloak-bear- 
ers. They decamped, but returned as 
they saw the poor animal walk away a 
sh(^rt distance and lie down, with his 
tongue out. They flew to him, and be- 
gan to tempt him to a renewid of the 
contest. This was most piteous of all. 
He looked up at them with glazing eyes, 
out of which all brutish malice had de- 
parted, as the great mystery of death 
overtook him, and he seemed struggling to 
say, " Come, caballeros, this is not fair. 
I am hurt and down, and there are too 
many of you ! I did not intend to carry 
it so far." In short, the bull seemed 
lunnanized, and the men brutalized, at 
this moment. I forgot about the gored 
horse. One of the executioners took a 
short dagger, drove it into the spinal 
marrow of the animal, and the trumpets 
sounded. The first fight was over. The 
bull fell on his side, and the gayly capar- 
isoned mules came in and draiiged him 
ignomiuiously away. 

Tlien the matador came forward to 
receive the compliments of tlie spectators 
for his final adroit sword-thrust. His 
name w.as rapturously shouted ten thou- 
sand times. Hats raiued upon him, and 
he tossed them back to their owners 
until his arms ached. Young swells 
threw their cloaks down to him that he 
might walk upon them. Cigars, fruit, 
and money were cast at him. He re- 
tired proud and contented. Had he 
been unsuccessful he would have re- 
ceived sticks and stones upon his humil- 
iated head. 

We had short respite. The trumpets 
sounded ; the picadors reappeared, and 
a new bull burst into the arena. This 
animal wasted no time. He drove all 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



lOO 



the eape-flutterers out of the rino-, killed 
a horse in less than two minutes, sent 
a 2)icador off on a stretcher, and took a 
tremendous dive at the hdlberdiers, who 
received him with lowered spears, but 
with blanching faces. He broke one or 
two of their spear-blades, kicked at 
them ■contcniptuoush-, gored a second 
horse ; but here his star liegan to pale, 
for he received a terrific lance wound. 
This sobered him, and seemed to exhaust 
his energies. The cajjcs could no lon- 
ger excite him. A spiv and deft man 
pulled his tail, and stole the rosette from 
his back. He was no giant with a lance 
wound. The oulj' thing which he did 
was mercifully to finish the second 
horse, which was in convulsions of 
.igon}'. Then the banderillos were planted 
in his neck, and a new matador finally 
despatched him. The crowd grew im- 
patient, and were glad when he was 
dead. He had promised well, but fin- 
ished badly. His d^hut as au artist was 
meteoric ; his career tame. Thus often 
iu human life ; but no matter about the 
moral. 

Once more the trumpets, and another 
bull. It took him some time to realize 
the situation, but wlien he did realize it he 
proceeded to business with an energy far 
superior to that of his inmiediate yirede- 
cessor. He did not like the ring, and he 
leaped out of it. It seemed im|iossible 
for him to do it; but he did it, knocking 
down half-a-dozen people iu the corridor 
before mentioned. I was horrified to 
see him, as the door was opened to let 
him in again, tossing a [/endarnte on his 
horns. The unhap})y man turned over 
and over. His sword fell from its 
sheath, and he was carried ont, when the 
bull's attention had been diverted from 
him, covered with blood and wounds. 
The l)ull ran up and down once or twice, 
engaged in a tremendous duel with a 



picador, who was too much for him, and 
even kept him from goring his horse. 
This hull in his turn submitted to the 
agony of the banderillos and the duel 
with the matador, who prolonged the 
animal's life so that the crowd execrated 
him because he had done much harm, 
and then sold his life dearly. 

And so, one after another, during al- 
most four hours, we saw eight bulls 
slaughtered. The only animals which 
were really terrifying were the third and 
the eighth. One of them was so in- 
dignant at a cape-bearer, who shook a 
i-ed cloak in his face, that he followed 
him right over the barrier, causing an 
immense burst of laughter. In truth 
the sight was iri'esistibly comical. I 
thought of the Yankee phrase about the 
man who was '• hurried over" the fence 
by the bull. This same animal charged 
the lidlherdierit twice ; but they filled 
his skin full of holes and put out one of 
his eyes. There were one or two fright- 
ful half-hours in this strange afternoon : 
half-hdurs, when a bull, dying, goi'ed 
the horse which he had already' slain ; 
when the odor of death arose from the 
ring ; when the smell of blood seemed 
to put savagery into all our souls ; \\ hen 
we felt a grim joy iu each new wound 
inflicted on the bull, and when the flit- 
ting corps of executioners seemed en- 
dowed with supernatural skill. The 
last bull, which had not promised well 
at first, turned out to be a master 
fighter, and the piincipal matador had 
to use all his sivill to bring him to his 
knees. The inanner in which the Inill 
looked at the matador had something 
awful in it, something so inexpressible 
that I will not try to define it. 

The King and Queen tried to retire 
when the seventh bull had been de- 
spatched ; but the people would not hear 
of it. They cried, '■^Olro toro! Otro 



110 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



foro ! " (auotlior Imll), in tliuiuk'i'oiis 
unison, and the King yielded. It must 
have lieen a .severe trial for the Qneen ; 
lint she sat through it all the wliile, and 
I observed that towards the last she 
looked on all the time. One speedily 
beeoines aeeustonied to the spectacle, 
Iiorrid as it is. So soon as the last hull 
was despatelied, the thousands of per- 
sons dispersed peaceably, and so dense 
was the throng that carriages and 
pedestrians alike could only move at a 
snail's pace. The arena was wet with 
blood. lu a recess of one of the outer 
corridors the eisiht bulls and the seven 



horses which liad been their victims 
were lying in a row. The amjihitheatre, 
with its stone seats and blood-stained 
sands, seemed Roman rather than Span- 
ish ; lint Siianish it emphatically was. 
The bulls shiin at this royal festival 
were furnished from the estates , of dif- 
ferent gentlemen, who take great pride 
in raising tiiem. The local journals 
pulilish the names of these gentry as 
well as tlie pedigrees of the luills. On 
the day following the first great corrida 
tliere was a second bull-fight, at which 
eight bulls were to be slain. But I did 
not go ; I had seen enough. 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



Ill 



CHAPTER ELEVEN. 

The Famous Mviseum in Maili-iil. — The Palace of tlie Cortes. — Noted Tapestries. — A Visit to Toledo. — 
Tl»e Spanish Clnak ami its Characters. — A Fonda. — Beggars. — The Grotto of Hercules. — The 
Alcazar. — In the Ancient Church. 



THE gretit museum of paintiiii; iu 
Madrid is one of tlie finest in tlio 
world ; and, for the lover of art, a 
ramble through its galleries is a rich 
compensation for the troubles and 
trials which he has had in his journey 
across the Pyrenees and down through 
the strange wastes, alternated with rich 
fields and fertile v.alleys, ot northern 
Spain. The Spanish masses, although 
so rudely ignorant, have a general respect 
for art, and I was struck with the fact, 
during the devolution of LSG'.t, that no- 
where in tiie peninsula were the rich 
treasures of art in any way disturbed 
or iujiu'ed. Even in the monasteries, 
through which the vindictive crowds of 
Valenciau peasantry poured in 18('>8 and 
1869, the paintings were not touched. 
There was none of the iconoclastic bru- 
tality of the Belgian mobs in the days 
when the Spaniard carried persecution 
into the north. The museum of the 
Prado, as it is generally called, was 
founded in 173.3, under the reign of 
Charles III., and according tu the plans 
of a famous architect nan)ed Villa Nueva. 
It was originally designed to receive col- 
lections illustrating natural histoiy ; but 
Kiug Ferdinand VII. brought together 
there the great numbers of paintings 
which had been scattered tiirough the 
different royal palaces; and in 1819, 
after immense sums had been expended, 
the nuiseum was opened to the public. 
It offers, like so many things iu Sjiain, a 
curious contrast of magnificence and 



meanness. Many of the corridors and 
halls are badly lighted, and insutliciently 
fitted for the display of the splendid 
canvases which adorn them. The works 
of the masters are huddled together 
witiiout any particular attempt at ar- 
rangement, and even the most adroit 
student of art comes away from the 
Prado with a bad headaclie and a confused 
vision of Titian, Tintoretto, Michael 
Angelo, Correggio, Guido. Mantegna, 
Andrea del Sarto, Paul Veronese, Velas- 
quez. Goya, Murillo, and Ribera, float- 
ing before his eyes. The Flemish scliool 
is naturally well represented, for the 
Spaniard h:is had ample opportiniity to 
make rich collections in the northern 
lands ; and the Rubens gallery is remark- 
able both for the splendor of the canvases 
and for the great numlier of them. The 
citizens of Madrid are especially proud 
of the specimens of the .Spanish school 
of i)ainting, particidarly of those of 
Velasquez, who was a great fiivorite of 
King Philii) IV., and who died in Madrid 
in IGGO. Theie are threescore paintings 
from the hand of this noble artist in the 
Madrid Museum, and among the most 
celebrated of them are the famous 
'•Christ on the Cross," — an admirable 
study of the nude of most elevated aud 
startling realism ; the noted '• Bor- 
rachos," the "Vulcan's Forge;" the 
"Surrender of Breda;" and the won- 
derful " Meuines." This celebrated pict- 
ure, which Luca Giardano called tlie 
" theology of painting," represents Vehis- 



112 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



qiii'Z engaged upon the ixirtriiits of 
Phiiil) W. anil others of the royal family, 
who are surrounded by their ladies of 
honor, the ollicers of the palaee and their 
dwarfs. This dazzling page of cnloi-, 
and tiie other equally remarkable [lietme, 
known to art lovers as the •' Fileuses," 
appear to justify the extravagant note 
of praise sounded l)y a French critic, who 
said that it seemed as if the iiaud nf 
Velasquez had taken no part in the 
execution of his -works, but that all of 
them had been created liy a pui'e act of 
volition ou his |)art. In the Prado 
there are also forty-six pictures from the 
hand of Murillo ; and IJibera. the great 
naturalist, is re|)resented liy tifty-eigiit 
pictures, almost .Shakespearian in theii' 
variety of manner, composition, ami 
style. Of Morales, of the anuising. 
touching, and sometimes tenible. pictures 
of Goya, there is little room to speak here. 
One is led to inquire how it is that 
foreign schools of art are so much better 
rei)resented in tliis vast and splendid 
museum than the Spanish school ; and 
one soon learns tiiat the accnuuihition nf . 
these treasures of the Italian and the 
Flemisli school was made during tlie cen- 
tury and a half when Spain was mi>.tress of 
Italy and Flanders ; when she had the 
treasures from the two Americas tloating 
in steady streams into her coffers, and 
when the kings of .Spain were the best 
patrons of men like Titian and Ruljens. 
Velasquez was twice sent into Italy by 
Philip IV., witli orders to buy the best 
pictures he could find without any refer- 
once to economy in price. The Spanish 
royalty, too, took advantage of the 
auction sale of the gallery of King 
Cliarles I., of England, in 1048 ; and, 
furthermore, it was the fashion for all 
the .Si>auish grandees, at li'nst once 
during the reign of a sovereign, to 
present to him some artistic gift, usually 



a fine paintUjg. In ge-ms and jewels 
the Prado JMuseuni is veiy lich, perhaps 
richer than any of tlie great museums 
in Paris and London. 

Hut in )iulilic l)iiildings jSIadrid is 
almost as poor as American cities which 
only date from tiie beginning of this 
century. The Royal Palace is medi- 
ocre in ai)pearance. Tiie Opera-house 
is plain and unimposing. The Palace of 
the Cortes, where the legislative bodies 
assemble ; the Arclueological .Museum, 
and the Palace of .St. Ferdinand, are not 
especially striking, although the facade 
of the Palace of the Cortes is decorated 
with two noble lions in bronze, the work 
of tlie scul[itoi- Ponzano, and moulded 
out of the bronze cannons taken in the 
old campaign in Morocco. In the 
Royal Palace is one of the most ample 
collections of tapestries in the world, and 
this is reckoned among one of the chief 
riches of the domain of the Spanish 
cro^vu. It is said that there are more 
than eiuht hundred of tlu'se tai)estries, 
most of them extremely interesting from 
an historical as well as an artistic point 
of view. Among tlie most noted of the 
compositions is the Con<piest of Tunis, 
by Charles A'. This merits a few words 
of description. The original designs 
were the work of .lehan Cornelius Ver- 
may. known in Flanders under the name 
of ,Ian Met de Baar ; in .Spain he was 
sometimes called Barba Longa, the ori- 
gin of which name is easily traced. He 
came into Spain from Flanders in l.i34, 
called thither by Charles V., who took 
him along to Tunis, that he might per- 
petuate, in tapestry, tlie presumable 
glories of the exiiedition. Charles came 
home successful from his campaign; and 
in l.')4(> Vermay had finished his compo- 
sitions illustrative of the different battles 
and victories. Yet it was not until l.Jo4 
that the designs had been reproduced in 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



113 



tapestry. Six years and a half tlie webs 
were on the looms. The artist, it is 
curious to note, who made the designs, 
was paid but 1,800 Horins, wliile tlie 
master-worker iu tapestry received 
14,57G tlorius, besides whicli lie was 
paid 8,500 florins for gold thread, 6,600 
livres for silks, which had been dyed iu 
Granada iu sixty different dyes . Another 
tapestry illustrates the Acts of the 
Apostles. It is not only in the royal 
palaces that tapestries of vrUue are to be 
found. Hundreds of impoverished !Si)an- 
ish families still possess, stowed away in 
garrets, or hung, floating in some windy 
corridor of their decaying mansions, 
tapestries, which, if their i)ride would 
allow them to sell them, would keep them 
comfortably provided with money for 
many a year. A rich amateur, American 
or English, occasionally makes an ex- 
cursion into the peninsula, and ransacks 
these Madrid garrets, generally with 
marlted profit and success. 

On my first visit to Spain 1 did not 
see ancient and romantic Toledo, a 
strange, quaint city, which liugers like 
a protest against the present, on its 
blufEs beside the foaming Tagus. But I 
hastened to repair uy error on the oc- 
casion of my second visit, and accord- 
ingly set forth in the evening train on 
the two hours' journey between Madrid 
and the old fortress town. Spanish 
suburlian railways are as capriciously 
managed as are the main lines. One is 
never certain that he will arrive at his 
destination at the hour indicated by the 
time-tables ; iu fact, he is never sure 
that he will arrive at all. I fell asleep 
on the way to Toledo, and, suddenly 
being awakened by a cold wind striking 
on my face, found that we had come to 
a dead halt in a melancholy plain, and 
that one of the doors of the carriage 
was open. In a corner near me sat a 



mysteri(jus person, entirely enveloped in 
his cloak, so that had I made the most 
persistent effort to see his face I could 
nut have done so. The Spanish cloak has 
a vast amount of character iu it. When 
hanging loosely from the shoulders it 
conveys the impression that its owner is 
free from guile ; but when wound about 
him, and half concealing his face, it im- 
[jarts to the most innocent the air of an 
assassin, or, at least, a fugitive from 
justice. When it quite swallows up the 
man iu its voluminous folds it has 
something ghostly and enchanted about 
it, which (piite controls the attention. I 
could not refrain from looking again and 
again at my niystcrit)us fellow-passenger 
in the corner. I exj)ected to see a noble 
cavalier, with a tremendous frown, come 
forth ; but at the end of the journey, 
when the man condescended to uncloak, 
he turned out to be notliiug but a rather 
ordinary coimnercial traveller iu a shabb}' 
tweed suit. 

.Judging by the lights gleaming on an 
acclivity beyond the plain that we were 
near the end of our railway ride, I rescued 
my fellow-passenger from the mass of 
rugs, blankets, overcoats, valises, and 
guide-books, into which he had fallen in 
the unconsciousness of sleep, and we set 
our gaze forward, as many a tra\eller did 
when ex|)loring his way across those 
dreary plains at nightfall centuries ago, 
when roads were unsafe, and when men- 
at-arms went iu twos and tlu'ces for 
nuitual aid and protection. The superb 
moonlight lent a poetical glamor to the 
most common and vulgar objects on this 
December evening iu the south. The 
pools in some of the marshes which we 
passed were like flakes of molten silver. 
Shadows in the long grass rose up and 
ilisappeared vv'ith strange rapidity. A 
cottage or a hovel, with a well-sweep be- 
fore it, a fortified grange, or a grove be- 



114 



EUROPE ly STORM AXD CALM. 



side a rippling stream, lool^ed eminently 
picturesque. In one place we cauglit a 
glimpse of a belated shepherd, hurrying 
his bleating flock t(j shelter; in another 
we saw a lew rude men seated ou the 
ground around a blazing fire. Few 
houses which we passed had any lights 
at the windows ; indeed, many of them 
had m> windows worthy of the name. 
The interior of a Spanish dwelling of the 
ordinary class has made small progress 
iu embellishment and comfort since tlie 
time when Cervantes wrote. We felt that 
we should have preferred to arrive in a 
dil>(/i-'iive, or on horseback, rather than ii! 
the extremely prosaic railway-car. Pres- 
ently we rolled into a small station, and 
there was a ciy of " Toledo." Then 
every one made a. sinudtaiieous rush for 
the omnibus. 

luthisgloomy, although roomy, con vey- 
auce we obtained some ideas as to the 
discomforts which we shouldhave suffered 
iu a dUhjcure, and ivpeuted of our late 
desire for it. We were packed in as 
tightly as nails iu a board, and wliile we 
were suffocating, fat Spaniards dropped 
their valises upon oin- toes, and heaped 
their parcels u[)ou our laps, while they 
proceeded with great gravity to light 
their cigarettes. The roof of the crazy 
conveyance wns heaped with luggtige ; 
we could hear the driver indulge iu a 
hundre<l untranslatable imprecations ; 
then the mules lumped, and away wo 
went into the seemingly open country. 
"We crossed an ancient bridge, bcneatli 
which a river was roaring. 

Preseutlj' we began to climb a hill, 
and then the brilliant moonlight showed 
us an anti(iue parapet guarding the 
brinks of precipitous cliffs, around 
which we wound our up^'ard way, the 
tower surrounded with walls far abo\-e 
us, and gates proudly uplifting tlieir 
venerable heads afiraiust time. All that 



we had dreamed of fascinating as be- 
longing to the apiirt)aches to Toledo 
was here more than fulliUed. Far 
lielow us, on the uneven i)lain, a few 
lights danced and flickered like will-of- 
the-w'isps, as i)erhaps they were. Not 
a sound cauu' fn.im tlie city ; I could 
htive fancit'd it spellliound by a magi- 
cian. 

Now we crossed a tiny square, sur- 
rounded by tall, narrow, many-lialeonied 
buildings ; and now our onmil)Us clat- 
tered through streets so narrow that 
the sleek sides of the mules seemed to 
graze the sides of the houses on cither 
hand. Eut the Spanisli Jehu landed us 
safely at last in front of a hostelry, 
which, huml)le enough of exterior, proved 
capacious and coiufortal)le within. It 
was a verital)le./ci»r/a ; with huge wooden 
shutters to the windows, and with hra- 
ZPixiti to warm tlie apiartments ; with a 
profusion of dark passages and mys- 
teri<;ius retreats, and sunny house-tops, 
where the guests made their rendezvous 
iu the morning ; and with a dining-room, 
the walls of which were lini'd with pict- 
ures illustrative of the chivalrous career 
of the Knight of La JManclia, as well as 
with daggers and Toledo lilades innu- 
merable. 

It was iu this chamber, suggestive of 
duels and sudden deaths, and with ra- 
piers hanging almost literally over our 
heads, that we took our frugal midnight 
supper ; and while we ate fresh eggs and 
lean cutlets, friecl in oil, and drank 
thimblefuls of nuisty wine, we heard 
the voire i)f the sereno. not innnusically 
liroclaimiug the fact that it was twelve 
o'clock and serene. Toledo seemed 
more than serene. It seemed more and 
more to us as if the old town were iu 
an enchanted sleep. 

We dressed next inoruiug, shivering 
in the cool air ; for it was December, 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



115 



aud December has its asperities in 
iSpaiu as well as in more northward 
climates. We opened the windows, 
hoping to get warm. Tliis sounds odd, 
but it is the literal truth: go out of tlie 
house iuto the opeu au' if you wisli to 
be warm in Spain. The sun is the life, 
the heat, the universal rejoicer. When 
he goes down to rest at night every- 
thing seems to take ou a sinister and 
melanclioly aspect for an hour or two 
as if in sullen dejection because of the 
departure of the monarch of day. 
When a Spaniard passes from the shade 
to the sunlight his face brightens in- 
voluntarily, even though he may have 
his nose enveloped in his gloomy cloak. 
So we opened the windows, and looked 
out over the plain which Toledo so 
proudly' dominates ; aud here, liefore 
we went down to visit the town, we 
read the pretty legend about the origin 
of the Moorish victories over the Goths. 
Toledo, as all the world knows, passed 
with the rest of Spain in the fifth century 
from the hands of the Romans into 
those of the Goths ; and iu Toledo the 
Gothic kings held their Court in the 
sixth century. Two hundred yetirs 
after that, Rodriguez, the last of the 
Gothic kings, was conquered ou the 
banks of the Guadalete by the Moors, 
swarming in from Africa. 

The legend tells of the mysterious 
grotto of Hercules, a subterranean lal)y- 
rinth, which is said to extend for more 
than tkree leagues outside the walls of 
Toledo. The entrance to this labyrinth, 
says the story, was closed by an iron 
gate, studded with massive bolts and 
nails, and was on the highest site in the 
town, at the place now occupied by a 
shabljy Cathohc church. The enti'ance, 
it is said, was walled up, by order of 
Cardinal Siliceo, iu 154G. Here stood, 
in the ancient days, the palace founded 



by Tulial. and restored and enlarged by 
Hercules, who was a magician liefore the 
Greeks made a god of him, and who here 
built the enchanted tower containing 
many talismans and menacing inscrip- 
tions. Among these latter was one which 
read : '"A ferocious and barbaric nation 
will invade Spain whenever any pne shall 
enter into this magic ch'cle." Every 
Gothic king, trembling with fear lest this 
terrible and mysterious prophecy might 
be realized, felt ithis duty toaddnew bolts 
and locks to the mysterious door- way lead- 
ing into the grotto. But Rodriguez, not 
having the fear of magic before his eyes, 
and liopingto find important treasure con- 
cealed in the labyrinth, one day banished 
his courtiers and his guard, and went 
along to the old iron door, on which for 
centuries had stood respected the inscrip- 
tion in Greek letters: "The king who 
shall open this door and discover the mar- 
vels J)eyondit will see muchgood and evil." 
Rodriguez, with sudden resolution, or- 
dered the bolts to be torn away, and went 
iuto the grotto. He soon arrived in a 
vast chamlier, with walls of hewn stone, 
in the middle of which stood a bronze 
statue of terrible aspect. It held in its 
hand weapons with which it struck upon 
the floor. But Rodriguez went straight 
up to the statue and asked permission to 
go farther on. The lironze warrior then 
ceased to strike upon the floor, and Rod- 
riguez, pushing on, soou found a coffer, 
on the cover of which was written : '' He 
who opens me will see marvels." It was 
too late to hesitate now, so he opened 
the box, lint was annoyed to find in it 
nothing except a canvas which he un- 
rolled. Upon it were figured troops of 
strange men. their heads girt with tur- 
l:)ans, aud with lances and bucklers in their 
hands ; and underneath them ran the 
inscription : *' He who shall have opened 
this box will have ruined Spaiu, aud will 



ik; 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



he conquered liy a iiatiou like those 
painted on this canvas." 

King Rodriiiuez went out of the sirotto 
filled with sadness and ju'esentiment of 
trouble. That night a terrible tempest 
broke over Toletlo, and the Tower of 
Hercules was destroyed. It was not 
long after these events that the Arabs 
began to j)our into Spain, where they were 
destined to remain for many centuries. 
Toledo was at first governed in tlie name 
of the Calii)hs of the Orient by chiefs or 
by officers, who soon, however, declared 
their indei)endence. The Moorish kings 
of Toledo kept their sovereignty tliere 
until lOSi'i. when Alfonso VI., King of 
Castile, drove them out, after a siege 
which had lasted many years. Then 
Toledo became the cai)ital of the kings 
of Castile, and remained so until the 
middle of the sixteenth century, when 
Philip II. look the Court to Madrid. 

We were so engrossed in our books 
that for some time we did not notice the 
hulibub in the street below ; but presently 
we looked down, where two or thiee 
stragijling ravs of sunshine had found 
their way to the very flag-stones, and 
lighted up as pi<-turesque a grouii of 
vagabonds as ever s[irouted on the soil 
of Spain. " Are all the lieggars in the 
province aware of our arrival?" said my 
com|)anion. It really seemed as if they 
were, and were overjoyed to see us, f(.>r 
they set up a yell of delight when our 
attention rested niiou them, and all, I'X- 
cept one or two lame ones, began dancing 
about as if possessed with tlie devil. 
Poor souls I they were certainly possessed 
of little else, for there were scarcely 
rags among the lot decently to cover the 
nakedness of one-half their number; and 
vet these rascals were all licensed to beg. 
Each one wore round his or her neck 
a string, from which depended a brass 
badge, bearing the words, '• Pohre da 



Tiitcdn ; " and I warrant you that e.ach 
one is registered in some huge black 
book, and has to give some small per- 
centage of ills receijjts to a grasijing 
otHcial. Men or women nuist be of very 
little account in Si)ain to escape govern- 
mental cupidity. A good part of the 
frightful hulibub which we now heard 
was due to the fancy of some other trav- 
ellers, who from the balcony next ours 
were tossing coppers to the beggars, and 
watciiing the struggles of the wretches to 
get them from each other. An evil-eyed 
old man, in a soiled hat, a tattered 
blanket, a patriarchal beard, and a pair 
of red soldier trous^'rs. had incun-ed the 
animosity of all the other beggars by his 
au'ility ; and the travellers were now a trifle 
appalle(l to see that their generosity 
might possibly be the cause of a fray. 
In fact, a woman and two overgrown 
boys, who had succeeded in picking up 
none of the [leuci', were threateniug the 
old man with instant dissolution unless 
he agreed to divide. He defended his 
booty as he could, and already windows 
were opcnecl on the other side of the 
strrct. and ladies aii[)eared. making ap- 
pealing gestures to the travellers not to 
encourage this cupidity any farther. 
Oaths, entreaties, words neither fit for 
ears polite nor impolite, flew from beggar 
to bemi'ar.with great rapidity, and aston- 
ished us. The red-legged sinner, disdain- 
ing the danger in which he stood, took 
off his hat. and solicited or begged our 
patronage anew, with a whining •• J'or 

WhethiT or not it would have ended 
in iilooil 1 do not know, for it was luckily 
intcn-upted by the music of a fine mili- 
tarv liand and bv sharp words of com- 
mand fi-oni ollicers. liefore the beggars 
had had time t(j get well ranged on the 
sunshiny side of the street, with their 
backs against the walls, one of the tin- 



EVRorr: i\ storm axd calm 



ir 



est-looking roo-imonts I liad over seen 
marchetl past. I doiiVit if any eonntrv 
could have produced a finer collection of 
shapely and intelligent young men tlian 
that embodied in this regiment. Tliere 
were traces of refinement and culture in 
every face, and we could not help think- 
ing that it was a sad waste to concentrate 
all this young talent ujion such a branch 



Toledo we found two or three of these 
cadets, promenading or standing beneath 
baleoiiies, conversing with ladies who 
were as invisible to them as to us. 
After seeing a few interviews of thi.'; 
fashion one can understand the stransje 
surprises of which old Spanish comedies 
are full. One needs to be extremely 
careful when doing liis Sunday courtino-. 












ALCAZAR AXD WALLS OF TOLKDO. 

of the public service as the army, when 
good men are needed in so many other 
professions in Spain. These youths 
were the pupils of the great military 
school of Toledo, whence six hundred 
cadets are sent forth at frequent periods. 
Their college was formerly the Hospital 
of the Holy Cross, and is one of the 
most interesting monuments of the town. 
Wherever we went during our stay iu 



to make sure that 

it is his love, and not her 

mother, or her maiden 

aunt, whom he is talking 

"*" up to. 

AVlien the regiment 
ad passed we closed our windows 
to discourage the beggars, and pres- 
ently sallied forth to view the town, 
beginning, as wise travellers always 
do, with a purposeless stroll hither 
and yon. In the course of this per- 
ambulation we discovered that Toledo 
is wonderfully clean for ;i Spanish town ; 
that order and decency seem every- 
where to iirevail, and that one might 
pass a comfortable existence there if he 
were a good son of the Church, and 
passionately devoted to its history, an- 
tiquities, observances, and splendors ; 
for Toledo is uousxht but au ancient 



118 



EUROPE jy STORM AXD CALM. 



fortress, filled vrith eluirelies and eonveiits 
and with the ruins of convents and 
churches. The railway and the govern- 
ment manufactory of arms, the only two 
tilings distinctly modern, are a long way 
outside the town limits. On the high 
hills, where old Toledo sits enthroned, 
cradleil with walls whii-h have defied the 
centuries, no sjiindles hum, no looms 
clash. You wonder in vain on what the 
population lives ; you cannot find out. 
But it certainly does live, and live well ; 
for as the hour of the mid-day meal 
approaches you see hundreds of pretty 
olive-colored servant-girls, hurrying to 
their employers' homes, with market- 
baskets piled high with appetizing dis- 
play of vegetables, fruits, and meat, 
and with sundry fat bottles protruding 
from among the other treasures. There 
arc eigliteen tliousand or twenty thou- 
sand people in Toledo, and only a small 
percentage of the number subsists iiy 
begging. The others live. Ah ! how 
do they live ? 

They ex'idently cared little for our 
opinion of them. They looked down 
from their windows at us with a cer- 
tain delicate scorn in their glances as if 
thinking, "Here are more liarbariaus 
come to view tlie proofs of our former 
grandeur." AVe finished our ramlile at 
the Alcazar, a beautiful edifice, which 
stands ui)on tlie site of an old Gothic 
fortress. It was almost entirely built 
by Charles V. and by Philip II. It was 
burned in 1710 by the armies, Gerjnan, 
English, Dutch, and Turk, during the 
war of the .Succession. Charles III. had 
the magnificent staircase and many other 
parts of the structure restored in 177:^; 
but it was again liurned in 1812, and 
now the Spaniards have courageously 
rebuilt it anew. The patio, or interior 
court, with its majestic cohnnus and the 
staircase of honor, won our respect and 



reverence. From the Alcazar we went 
down to the large irregular square, sur- 
rounded l)y uneven arcadi's, where the 
populace collects in crowds when the 
sun is hot ; and on this dav it was hot 
indeed. People sat motionless on the 
great stone benches, absorbing, as I have 
seen them do in Florida, the divine 
beauty of the air and the sun. Mule- 
teers from the coimtry roun<l about had 
cast themselves on the ground near their 
beasts, and were lazily smoking and 
dreaming. None of these men, of what- 
ever class, felt worried about the uses or 
abuses of life, the shadow of the grave, 
or any such nonsense ; and I felt sure 
th,at had they possessed intelligence 
enough to comprehend the purport of 
Mr. Mallock's book, " Is Life worth 
Living?" they would have waved it 
gentlv aside as an intellectu.al atrocity, 
not worth their serious attention. Some- 
thing of the calm and dignity of the Moor- 
ish gateways and the massive cathedral 
walls seems to have crejit into the de- 
meanor and the thought of these good 
people of Toledi>. 

The shopkeepers do not seem much 
in earnest. There were no rich shops, 
filled with articles of luxury for sale, 
such as one would be sure to find in a 
town of twenty thousand inhabitants in 
America. People have finished their 
bnving of furniture, pictures, and plate, 
and so yreat liazaars, filled with such 
things, are lacking. The chemist and 
the tailor had a melancholy look. They 
did not seem to be over-confident of a 
l>aving patronage ; but saddle and har- 
ness, horsc-goar and mule-gear, stirrups 
and belts, daggers and pistols, guns and 
knives, were evidently in constant de- 
mand. Spain is still the country of the 
wandering horseman, armed to the teeth, 
and readv for adventures on hill or in 
valley. From this sun-lilessed scpiare. 



EUROPE LY STORM AND CALM. 



Hi) 



with its dozing crowd, we went down to 
the smaller place in front of the miglity 
cathedral. Here, again, we found dozens 
of persons basking in the sun, a few 
children gambolling in a slow, lazy fash- 
ion, not even deigning to get out of 
our way, but allowing us to walk over 
tliem. 

This great elun-eh, which men labored 
at for two hundred and fifty years 
before its exterior was complete, and 
which is a pearl of Gothic architecture, 
threw a frowning shadow across our 
path. It seemed warning us to set aside 
the light aud trifling sjiirit of the super- 
cilious traveller, in which we had lieen 
viewing and commeutiug upon things all 
that morning, and to approach its won- 
ders in reverential attitude. I sat down 
on a bench in front of the church and 
studied the rich portals until (juite lost 
to everything else. The men who wrote 
in this stone book, as Victcjr Hugo would 
say, of hell, of pardon, and of the judg- 
ment, were blessed with elevatetl imagi- 
nation. It is not a little suggestive of 
the spirit of the Catholic church, that 
the page, or the porttd, devoted to par- 
don is the most elal>orately rich. This 
is axquisitely beautiful, worth journey- 
ing hundreds of miles by .S|)anish railway 
to see. The others are sometimes rude in 
detail, but powerful in ensemble. Fi'om 
the right of tliis monstrous facade, the 
stones in which seem to breathe forth 
life, springs the graceful church-tower, 
ninety yards high, and holding in its 
belfry a chime, one bell of which weighs 
forty thousand pounds. On the left is 
the renowned Mozarabic chapel, sur- 
mounted liy a handsome octagonal cu- 
pola. This fronts the west, aud the 
glories of the setting sun linger on it 
winter and sunnuer evenings before they 
settle down to turn the ruddy waters of 
the Tagus for a moment into a flood of 



molten gold. There are no less than 
twentj'-three chapels, which are so many 
little churches, all grouped around the 
greater cathedral, and they were spe- 
cially constructed, at widely divided 
epochs, as places of burial for celebrated 
warriors and churchmen. It was in G67, 
if we may believe the pious tradition, 
that the Virgin appeared to St. Ilde- 
fonso. Bishop of Toledo ; but this church 
had been founded a century before by 
a Gothic king converted to Catholicism. 
After the invasion of the jMoors the 
cathedral, of course, became a mosque, 
and the Moors kept it as their place of 
worship even after the trinnqihal entry of 
Alfonso YI., until one night the Chris- 
tians arose, and, violating their prom- 
ise, took back the old cathedral, aud 
consecrated it anew to their own worship. 
The foundations of the present cathedral 
were laid in 1227, and the edifice was fin- 
ished in 1493. AVhen we had concluded 
our study of this f a(;'ade we went round to 
the southern one, to the Door of the 
Lions, as it is called. We tried in vain 
to examine the beautiful small statues 
with whicli the portal was studded. 
The effort made our heads ache and 
brought blade spots before our eyes. 
Northward arose the high and forbidding 
walls of tlie cloister and dozens of an- 
cient houses, with carven fronts and 
windows protected with iron railings, 
also oarved with hundreds of quaint de- 
vices. Behind the church, in a gloomy 
buikling, now a 2wsada, once sat the 
Holy Inquisition, and from the vaults 
sometimes were heard, in the old days, 
the shrieks and groans of tortured pris- 
oners. 

We went into the cathedral and found 
preaching in progress. After a long 
walk through the shades we came to 
the central structure, found in all 
Spanish churches, and which in this im- 



120 



EUROPE IX STORM AXI) CALM. 



pressivo e.'ithodral is of most falmldiis 
magniliceuco. Onv ryes waudcrcd from 
alabaster figures of saints auil martyrs 
dowu to tiie precious and riclil^' carved 
walls of wood on wliicli tliev rested, and 
then up to the frowning and monstrous 
columns of niarlde. One could but 
faintly describe this coro, for the amount 
of detail fatigues the sense of observa- 
tion. In a higli pulpit, whicli seemed to 
spring as lightly as tlie lilossom <:if a 
houeysuckle from among the gigantic 
pillars, was a ])riest. lecturing a large 
procession (if red-cloaked seminarists, 
who sat submissively below him. The 
ox-like lieatitude of these youths' faces 
impressed me. I wondered if they had 
really got tlie vocation, or if their pas- 
sions were still asleep. AVe tliought 
that, considering tlie absolute hunulity of 
his audience, the priest was rather em- 
phatic and declamatory. In the five 
enormous naves of the church and iu all 
the chapels ran an odor of incense, soft, 
sweet, and penetrating. It seemed to 
enter our very souls. My companion 
rebelled against it. He said he felt as 
if there were a kind of moral taint, a 
species of spiritual subjection in it, and 
he longed to get into the open air. 

Bnt even he was half persuaded 
to liow iu adoration before a deli- 
cate and [lerfect marble group, repre- 
senting the Virgin and the Child, on 
the spot where the Virgin is supposed 
to have appeared to St. Ildefouso when 
he brought down tlie holy chasuble. He 
stood and watched the faithful as they 
came one l)y one to touch the stone on 
whicli the divine mother was said to 



have set her feet, and his face took on a 
kind of awe as he saw the fervor and 
sincerity of these simple ones, who 
lielieve that the stone has certain power- 
ful virtues. All the beautiful French and 
English cathedrals sink into insignifi- 
cance beside this of Toledo. Spaniards 
themselves think that the exterior arc'ai- 
tecture of this church is inferior to that 
of the Cathedral of Burgos; but the 
superb mass of seemingly inexhaustible 
riches collected within the walls over- 
whelms the spectator. Here the past is 
crystallized. This is at once cemetery 
and temi)le of worship, volume of his- 
tory, and museum of anticpiities. Poetry 
and romance are in every corner. Knights 
and ladies, famous long ago, seem to 
sleep liglitly on their sculptured tombs 
and to be ready to arise at a signal. The 
red hat of a cardinal hangs above a mar- 
lile sarcophagus. How long ha.s it lieen 
there? Longer than the I'nited States 
has l)een a nation. 

And when the priest had fluished his 
sermon, and the red-cloaked seminarists 
had gone forth, and the women who 
had l)een sipiattiug on the stone pave- 
ment had arisen and depart jd, tremulous 
orgau-music stole through the air, and 
came to us like a benediction. From 
the hidden choir rose the pure voices of 
boy choristers, singing praises over and 
over again, while the round voices of 
monks chimed the responses. We 
were about to leave the cathedral, but 
we could not. The magic of the music 
was all-powerful. We sat down iu a 
corner and listened. 



ECROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



121 



CHAPTER TWELVE. 

Dead Celebrities. — Don Alvai-o do 7-una ami liis Famous Chapel iu Toledo. — The Ancient Gates. — The 
Cloistei- of San Juan de Los Reyes. — Coi-dova. — The Mezquita. — A Eclic of the ]N[oors. — The 
Plain of Seville. — The Giralda. — The Cathedral. — Tlie Gardens of the Alcazar. — The Duke of 
Montpensier. 



SPAIN has inore dead thau living 
celebrities within lier limits, and 
among them none is more wortliy of a 
note of respectful admiration than tlie 
old constable Don Alvaro De Luna, 
whose tomb is in this ancient Cathedral 
of Toledo, in the Santiago Chapel, one 
of the best specimens of the highest 
period of florid Gothic art. In this ex- 
quisite chapel reposes on a white marble 
tomb the body of tlie great constable, 
who had such a romantic history, and 
who linished his career ui)on the scaffold 
in 14.53. The Spaniards say that the 
constable, who was very pious, had 
arranged, years ))efore any tiiought of 
death had tout-hed his sjiirit, that his 
mausoleum should have a statue wliich 
should kneel down during mass, and 
might rise up again at the end of the 
holy office. This strange order was 
carried into effect, and the statue was, 
so the legend runs, placed in the cathe- 
dral ; but the great Isabel ordered it to 
be removed because of the irreverent 
nature of the ciu'iosity which it provoked 
among the faithful. 

Don Alvaro first makes his appearance 
in history as a page in the service of the 
young King John II., in 1408, while the 
king was still under the tutelage of the 
queen mother. The two young people 
were united in the closest bonds of 
friendship, but the courtiers became 
jealous of the influence which the page 
had upon the king, and separated the 



two children ; whereupon the young 
monarch fell into such a jH-ofound mel- 
ancli(.)ly that his liclovcd Don Alvaro 
was sunnnoned Ijack to court at once. 
Thenceforward the path of the aml)i- 
tious page was strewn with proofs of 
royal favor, and it was not many years 
before he attained the highest office in 
the kingdom. — that of Constable of 
Castile. 

In 1431 he was victorious in the famous 
battle in wliich the Moors were pursued 
even to the walls of Granada. The vic- 
tory of Olmedo delivered King John II. 
from the ambitious intrigues of his 
cousin ; and for this feat of arms, which 
was, i)erliai)s, the proudest in Don 
Alvaro's career, he received every honor 
and courtesy which his royal master could 
bestow uiiou him. But thereafter his 
fortunes declined. John II. became 
jealous of him, and was, so the legend 
says, anxious to seize upon the immense 
riches which the constable had accumu- 
lated. 

So he ruthlessly exiled his favorite, 
and then Don Alvaro, for the first time 
iu his life, committed a crime. He be- 
lieved that he had been sujijilanted in the 
favor of the king by a certain Alonzo 
Perez, who had been his own secretary. 
He managed to get this ungrateful servi- 
tor a fatal fall from the top of his house 
in Burgos, having liad the balustrade 
sawn away, and pitched after the victim, 
in order to make the public believe that 



122 



ECROPE IX STORM AXIJ CALM. 



the murder w:is ;ui acciilrnt. Don Alvaro 
was arrested and lianileil over to the 
executioner. His head was exijosed in 
the inarket-iihiee of Valladohd for nine 
days, and lie wlai luid lieen for tliii'ty 
years tlie most [lowerfnl man in Siuiin 
was liuried ]iv pulihe eliarity. But in 
process of time his evil deeds were for- 
ootten, and liis lilorious ones seemed to 
entitle him to the bright place which lie 
occui)ies to-day in the nol:ilest cathedral 
in northern Spain. 

.\nother cha|)el of marked interest is 
that of --The new Kings." which was 
built under Charles V., and in which are 
nianv toinlis of kings and (jueens of the 
thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. One 
begins to understand the reverent awo 
with which the citizens of Toledo speak 
of tlu^ great cathedral when he has 
wandered among those royal tombs, and 
has learned tiiat within those noble walls 
is a great epitome of Spanish history. 

From the church we went out for a 
walk around tlie old walls of Toledo, and 
visited in turn tlie beauti+'ul Gate of the 
Sun (Puerta del Sol), in which the widely 
varying stvb's of the Moresque, the 
Gothic, and the Renaissance eixichs are 
so strangely united; and that other 
ancient gatewav, tlie Arco del Cristo dc 
la Tyuz. under wliieli ^Mfonso VI. made 
liis triumiilial enti'v into the Toledo which 
he had won liy his sword. We looked 
down ujion the Tagus from the Bridge of 
Alcantara, wliich siirings airily across a 
gigantic chasm, its single arch, in light- 
ness and beauty, surpassing anything of 
the kind we had ever seen in mn-tliern 
lands. But of all the treasures of old 
Toledo none so won our fancy, not even 
the cathedral so appealed to our jioetic 
sense, as did the Church of San Juan de 
los Reyes, which stands high .above the 
Bridge of St. Martin, proudly overlook- 
ing the Tagus. Xo written description 



can more than faintly reproduce the 
beauties of this (T(.ithic moiunncnt. once 
a vast cliurch and cloister, which nmst 
have been a very haven of delight for 
the weary churchmen and warriors who 
reaclied it after toiling across the bleak 
plains and through the dangerous moun- 
tain passes. It was built in 1470, by 
Ferdinand and Isaliella. as a votive 
offering after the famous victory of Toro. 
gained over their neighbor, the King of 
Portugal, who was always covetous, and 
who supported the intriguing pretender 
to tlie crown of Castile. The portal of 
the church, a centuiT younger than the 
church itself, is supremely lieautiful ; 
but the chief gem of the monastery 
was its cloister, which is the most mir.ac- 
iilous speeiiiu'ii of carving in stone that 
I have ever seen. Its beautiful archei-; 
are to-day half-ruined : the garlands of 
leaves, of flowers, of birds, of chimeras, 
and of dragons, are degraded, and many 
of them have been taken down to be re- 
priidneed by the restorer's chisel. The 
liuelv carvi'il colonnades, the little 
aroups of pillars, within which lurk the 
statues of some shy saints, who look 
down from their refuge as if half afraid 
of the invading hand of modernism; the 
rich pedestals, and the standards and 
dais, worked through and through by the 
(ainniiig artisans, until they are almost 
like lace : the quaint and extravagant 
fancies of the mediivval stone-cutters, — 
all this one despairs of rendering in 
weak prose. Outside the cloister, and 
alK)ve the door of the convent, through 
which, to-day. one enters the provincial 
nniseiim. is a great cross in Gothic style, 
surmounted by a pelican. On the right 
and on tl;e left are statues of St. John 
and the Virgin Mary, in the face of 
which, .so say the guides, one sees the 
veritable lineaments of the Catholic 
mouarchs, Ferdinand and Isabella. All 



EUROPE LV STORM AND CALM. 



123 



fflt 



if 



around the outside of the church hang 
uncomfortable masses of iron chains and 
fetters. These are the votive offerings 
of the Christian captives, who were given 
back to liberty at the surrender of 
Granada. 

Wlien we left Toledo 
we had been in an en- 
chanted city for one 
hundred years, and had 
suddenly been tlu'own 
back into the cold light 
of tlie natural world. 
A\^e went away, our eyes 
still dazzled with the 
treasures whicli we had 
seen in the Sacristy of 
the Cathedral, on the 
morning before our de- 
parture. The superb 
cHstodia., which was made 
for the chnrch iu 1524, 
all of gilded silver, ill the 
Gothic style, was deco- 
rated with more than two 
hundred and sixty stat- 
uettes, and literally cov- 
ered with dianiiinds, with 
emeralds, and with other 
precious stones. Its cen- 
tral part, in massive 
gold, said the pious clerk 
who showed it to us, was 
made with the first ore 
broughtback from Amer- 
ica liy Christopher Co- 
lumbus. There, too, we 
saw the processional cross iu gilded silver, 
made by a noted craftsman of Toleilo in 
the sixteenth century ; and the standard 
which was planted by the valiant Car- 
dinal Mendoza and his men on the for- 
tress of the Alhamlira iu Granada iu 
1492. The clerk showed us a Bible 
of the twelfth century, written upon 
golden leaves, each leaf beautifully en- 



circled with emeralds and with painted 
miniatures ; and we could not help cov- 
eting the reliquaries, of which this good 
man sliowed us at least fivescore. 

We went on from cathedral to cathe- 
dral until we were almost persuaded 
that all Spain was but triljutary to the 




THE PUEIITA DEL SOL. 

Catholic shrines, and that the revoiu- 
tiouarv movements whieli we had seen 
in favor of modern progress and liberty 
were but the " baseless faliric of a vi- 
sion." From Toledo we went down, past 
Aranjuez, to the Alcazar de San Juan, 
a wretched and ancient town, chiefly 
memorable in the diaries of travellers 
because of the discomforts which thev 



124 



EUROPE IN HTORil AM) CALM. 



have Ik'C'U obligeil to t'udiire at its huge 
aud comfortless raihvay station. This 
Alcazar was once the eai)ital of the 
commanrteries of the Knights of St. 
John. 

We continued our journey into Anda- 
lusia, across the harren and monoto- 
nous ])hiins of \j-A iManciia. tlu'ongh the 
country which Cervantes has innuortal 
ized in " Don (Quixote," through deliles 
anil along the edges of (irec'iiiices as 
wonderful as those of nortiiern Spain, 
until we came to old Cordova., half de- 
serted, lint still as picturesque as it was 
iu the time (if the Calipiis, wiien it pos- 
.sessed tw<i hundred tliousand houses, 
aud. if we mav lit'lieve the enthusiastic 
S[ianiards. eighty thousand palaces, seven 
hundred mosipies, and more than twelve 
tliousand villages in its subiu'lis. The 
railwav to Cordova ]iasses near tlie site 
of the famous liattle of Las Navas, 
fought on the 12th of July, f-'li. when 
the Moors were defeated with a loss of 
manv thousands of men. and were 
forced to give into the iiands of the 
Christians the fertile domain of Andalu- 
sia, wliere they had lieeu so happy. 

It is .stupefying to the traveller from 
the Occident to wander througli Cor- 
dova. From whole quarters of the city 
the inlialiitants lia\'e gone away ; long 
sti'cets are lilli d with houses entirely un- 
occui)ied, and here one may learn to un- 
derstand the gradual ruin which overtook 
tile cities of tlie East. 

The aneieut town of the Senccas and 
of T.ucan ; the illustrious cradle of the 
jioets of Cordova, of wdiom Cicero siioke 
with so much entinisiasni ; the city in 
which Moorish I'.hysicians, surgeons, and 
jihihjsophers, jiu'isconsidts. and minis- 
ters of state, wrote works which have 
been translated into half the languages 
of Europe ; the birthiilnce of Cespedes, 
who was jioet, painter, architect, and 



sculptor, all in excellent degree; the 
home of the great captain of the fifteenth 
century, Fernandez de Cordova, — is now 
a melancholy si)ectacle. Coimuerce seems 
to take wings to itself and Hy away from 
places which it had once blessed with its 
beneficial presence. Under the Romans, 
under tlie Moors, even under the Castil- 
ians, Cordova was one of the great in- 
dustrial cities of the world. Its silk 
factories swarmed with workmen and 
workwomen, and tlic manufacture of its 
stamped aial gilded leatliers employed 
thousands of ai'tisans : luit one by one 
the sources of its commercial gi'eatness 
fell awav. and tliei'e h;is lieen no internal 
policy, political or connnercial, worthy 
the name, in Spain, since the licginning 
of the century. So it is not wonderful 
tliat Cordova shows no signs of the 
awakening so perceptible iu Barcelona 
and the other cities of the north. There 
are to-day but a few wretched manu- 
factories of riblions and of gilt iu the 
town ; but tiie jewellers are numerous, 
and their windows are filled with g(^ld 
and silver work, which is massive and 
honestly made, although without much 
delicacy or elegance. 

Cordova had been but little touched 
bv tlie revolutions which succeeded each 
other with such rapidity in the iieninsula 
aftvr l.Sll.S ; but since the revival of tiie 
nioiKirciiy of Alfonso XII. there has 
grown up. all through the fertile doiuaiu 
of Andalusia, a socialistic movement, 
which perhaps had its origin in the sub- 
terranean workings of the Inti'nniHoiiale 
in l.S(J'.(, and the years directly pi'eceiling 
it. Tlie taxation of the present mon- 
archy has been almost rniuous for many 
of the industries of Ainhdusia. and it is 
remarkable with what jiersistence one 
Spanish monarchy follows another Sjian- 
ish monar<'iiy in neglecting to develop 
the resources of the countrv. Shortly 



ECROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



125 



after retumiiig from a jouniev in Spain 
I toolv up the descriptive itinerary of 
that country, written nearly tifty years 
ago by Comte de Laborde, and in it tlie 
author, wlio was a painstaking and care- 
ful observer, laments that the whole 
country between Seville and Jerez de la 
Frontera, which is naturally one of the 
most fertile bits of land in the world, is 
left to run to waste, because the oppres- 
sive taxation, and the indisposition of 
the local authorities to aid in making 
improvement? in the provinces, had dis- 
couraged the farmers. What the Comte 
de Laborde said lifty years ago is per- 
fectly true to-day. If i)r(.igress is made 
in (Spain, always excei)ting the recent 
vigorous movements in Catalonia and 
elsewhere in the nortli, it may be set 
down as certain that it is the work of 
the Englisl; or some other enteri)rising 
strangers. Andalusia, wrote our observ- 
ing friend tifty years ago, so abounds 
in wheat that it has been called the 
granary of Spain ; but to-day the poorer 
classes find it ditlicult to get enough to 
eat. Probably one of the reasons for 
this extreme poverty is their unwilling- 
ness to work ; but there is little induce- 
ment to labor in a country where the 
government takes the larger part of 
one's earnings so soon as one has earned 
them. 

The society of the Mano Negra, or 
the Black Hand, was formed a few 
years ago in Andalusia, its direct objects 
being the plunder of the rich and the 
assassination of the oppressors ; and the 
creation of this society was provoked 
exactly like that of the Nihilists in 
Russia, by inti.>lerable abuses and 
tyranny, from which there seemed no 
appeal except by conspiracy and vio- 
lence. 

The jewel of Cordova is its ancient 
mosque, still called tiie Mezquita. To- 



day the Holy Church has baptized it as 
a cathedral ; but to the eyes of all the 
poetically inclined it will still remain the 
mosque which the s()leudid Caliph Ab- 
derahman built in the year 170 of the 
Hegira, as the Arab chroniclers tell us, 
and in which have been seen so many 
splendid jiarades of Moorish military and 
civic grandeur. This beautiful structure 
occupies the site of the first cathedral 
that the Goths had liuilt on the place 
where they had found traces of the 
temple of Janus, which the Romans had 
erected tiiere. The Mezquita is even 
built out of the ruins of the two preced- 
ing structures, and nearly all the columns 
which are so striking a feature of the 
mosque are very ancient. The edifice 
is five hundred and thirty-four feet long, 
and nearly four hundred feet wide 
within. The walls are built out of 
huge stones, hewn coarsely, and uneven 
in size. The northern side is covered 
with ornaments in stucco, which are 
carved with the greatest delicacy ; and 
at the principal entrance are six jasper 
columns of exquisite beauty. A massive 
square tower rises at one side of this 
strange building. Its windows are 
ornamented with white and red marble 
cohnnns ; and at the top are little arclies, 
in the form of festoons, sustained liy a 
great numlier of diminutive columns. 

The court-yard, nearly two hundred 
feet long, with a marble fountain in its 
centre, is another curious feature in 
the mosque. This is the place where 
the faithful made their daily ablutions 
after they had left their shoes at the 
foot of the tower near the entrance. 
This superb court-yard is surrounded on 
three sides by a fine portico, sup|iorted 
bv seventy-two columns. In the middle 
are planted orange and lemon trees, 
cypress, palms, and many other tropical 
and semi-tropical shrubs. Here nature 



126 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



and art are inaiTied in the happiest 
manner, with that felicity and harmony 
which the Moors so welL understood. 
Wiicn the troops who accompanied 
Jose[)li Bonaparte into Andalusia en- 
tered this dazzling court-yard for the 
first time they could not suppress shouts 
of admiration. The chapter of the 
cathedral, in its most Ijrilliant costumes, 
came forward to meet the new monarch, 
who was destined to have such a short 
stay ; the people pressed in crowds round 
the <-ort('g(' ; and the great enclosure, 
with its antique, oriental stones, with its 
African palm-trees spreading above the 
verdure of tlie low orange shrubs, which 
mingled the perfume of their flowers 
with the incense escaping from the 
censers ; the branches, which were dec- 
orated with thousands of ribbons and 
flags of all colors ; the clash of the drums, 
and the noise of the artillery outside ; 
the sui)erb vault of the sky, — in a word, 
the nnusual l)eauty of animate and inan- 
imate tilings formed such an ensemble 
that the troops, who had Freucli eyes 
for the picturesque, were ravished, and 
swore that they would never depart from 
such a beautiful place. This mosque 
has seventeen doors, covered with Ijrouze 
plates. Within the vast structure are 
nineteen naves, each three hundred and 
fifty feet long, and more than fourteen 
feet wide, running from the south to the 
nortli ; and across these, from east to 
west, run nineteen smaller naves. .\11 
these aie formed by long lines of eolunms, 
and the effect is as fantastic as beautiful. 
Many of the columns are of jasper, 
which closely resembles turquoise ; others 
are of the finest red, white, and reddish- 
yellow marble. Most of them have Co- 
rinthian capitals, and few are more than 
eleven feet higli. Tiiere are in this 
wonderful mosque no less than one thou- 
sand and eialiteeu of these columns. 



Here are no vaults, but the ceilings are 
made of simple wood, without ornamen- 
tation, liut beautifully joined together. 
The mosque was left in its original form 
until the l)eginning of the tenth century, 
at which time the zealous chapter oli- 
tained from the king, although the citi- 
zens of Cordova protested against the 
nnitilation of tJie beautiful monument, 
liormission to build in the centre of the 
structure a huge chapel, which is like a 
chinch within a church. But, in spite of 
its rich accumulations of marbles, of 
paintings, of tapestries, and of frescoes, 
it looks cold and out of place in this 
Moorish mosque, which seems to attract 
to it the heat and the translucent color 
of Africa. 

After a day's wandering in and about 
this mosque we felt that Cordova had no 
further charm for us. We did not stay 
to visit tJie great Episcopal Palace, with 
its marl lie staircase, the balustrades of 
which are lined with ornaments in bad 
taste, nor to iusjiect the seemingly innu- 
meraijle |)ortraits of the bishops of Cor- 
dova, nor the remains of the palace of 
the Moorish kings, which I fancied ex- 
isted only in the imagination of tlie Span- 
ish chroniclers ; nor in tlie Royal Palace, 
which, surrounded by its gloomy walls, 
looks like a citadel occupied liy a foreign 
invader, who is compelled to protect him- 
self from tlie iuhalutants. Indeed, this 
might 111' eoiistrued, perhaps, as the 
present position of tlie monarchy in 
Spain. At Cordova one of the old 
palaces is used as a stable for tlie splen- 
did Andalusian horses which are raised 
in the neighborliood ; and in this stable, 
in 17'.I2, stood six hundred almost price- 
less horses, the very perfection of their 
race. The Spanish monarclis of this 
century have not paid so much attention 
to horses as to bulls. Here and there in 
Cordova one sees the spacious enclosures 



EUROrE I.V STORM AKD CALM. 



127 



into which the wild Lmlls niv driven when the Hebrews, to the Chaldeans, and to 

they are lirought up from the plains to be the Phienicians. What is certain about 

partially sulijugated before they are o-iven tiie old town's history is, that its iuhab- 

over to the pleasures of the 

populace in the ring. 

From Cordova t(j Seville is 

a pleasant excursion through 

one of the most fertile plains 

in Spain, among the vines 

and olive trees, through groves 

of cactus and of palm. The 

railway is even hedged in by 

rows of gigantic cacti, which 

grow in the most fantastic 

form. Seville stands in the 

midst of this plain, which is 

traversed by the Guadahpii- 

vir. At first sight it is not 

imposing. The streets are nar- 
row, tortuous, luidly paved. 

The eleven thousand or 

twelve thousand houses in 

the town are very solidly 

built, and any one of any 

importance has a great court- 
yard sin-rounded l)y galleries, 

supported Ijy columns, aud 

has fountains in the centre. 

The entrance to each of these 

patios, as the courts are 

called, is closed by a door of 

open iron-work, in which the 

artisans of Seville are very 

adroit. In summer, when 

the intense heat falls upon a patio in Seville. 

this plain, the inhabitants 

of Seville live entirely in these open itants have always manifested a Parisian 

discontent witli their sovereigns and 
forms of government ; that they have 
sustained three sieges, two of which are 
among the most remarkaljle in history ; 
that they revolted against the King of 
Cordova in the eleventh century, and 
set up a King of Seville for themselves ; 
were brought liaek under the emi)ire of 




courts, over which they spread gayly 
colored awnings. They desert their 
sleeping-rooms and lie on cool couches in 
the corridors, lulled to rest by the music 
of the fountains. But, as nothing is per- 
fect in this life, they have a compensat- 
ing torment in the omnipresent inosipiito. 
The foundation of Seville is variously 
attributed to Hercules, to Bacchus, to the sovereigns of Cordova ; raised anew 



12S 



El'ROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



the standard of iX'bi'Uion in 1144, and 
again oliose a l<ing wliose descendants 
laitl down the law to Cordova. Wlien 
Ferdinand II.. King of Castile and 
Leon, took possession of Cordova and 
Jaen. in \i'o(J. .Seville threw off all an- 
thority and declared herself a Reiiulilic; 
that her (leople shoidd be governed by 
the laws which they made for themselves. 
Bnt Ferdinand II. circled Seville with 
his forces, and set siege to it in 1247, 
and after twelve months of grim resist- 
ance the town succumbed, and was 
thenceforward to lie a jewel in the crown 
of Castile. 

The two chief beauties of Seville are 
the Alcazar, the ancient palace of the 
Moorish kings, which, since the fall of 
the Bloors, has been restored and much 
enlarged, especially in the reign of the 
sombre and terrilile Peter the Cruel ; 
and the Metropolitan church, or cathe- 
dral, a noble twin to that of Toledo, 
and one of the most splendid edifices in 
Eurojie. The cathedral, the old tower 
of the Giralda. built by El Geliir. the 
inventor of Algebra, which is named 
after him ; the .archiepiscopal palace, 
and the old library in which lie the 
thousands of manuscri|it records con- 
cerning the discovery of the New World, 
— are all grouped together in a beauti- 
ful square bordered with orange-trees. 
We were admitted to the library, where 
we saw iulinite portraits of archbishoiis 
of Seville, but not many of the discov- 
erers of America ; and where we found 
no l)ooks of more recent date than the 
close of the last century. Rut why 
sliould the library of the chnrch have 
books of recent issue ? Seville seems 
to have fallen asleep in its sunny jilaiu 
beside the broad, lazy river, and to 
have forgotten the glorious days when 
it was the centre of the conmierce and 
the wealth of Sjiain ; when it was the 



lioint of de|iarture and arrival for the 
huge fleets which traded to the land of 
the setting sim ; when troops of hardy 
adventurers thronged the quays of the 
Guadalquivir, anxious to embark for 
adventure in America. " Seville," says 
a melancholy Spanish writer of the pres- 
ent day, '• is now a body without a soul ; 
and yet" — - he adds with (juaint sad- 
ness — " the vessels could go x\\i the 
Gnadalipiivir to-day as readily as they 
did four hundred years ago." Here 
came the gold and silver from the colo- 
nies ; here were furled the sails of the 
galleons after they had been chased 
along the shores by piratical or ioimi- 
cal ficets, which laid in wait for them 
as they came home from the rich West ; 
here were thousands of workers in 
silks, in gold and silver tissues, in flax 
and cotton stuffs ; but now they aie all 
gone. In 1601 the seventeen guilds 
of the city of Seville made a report 
concerning the prosperity of the town. 
There were then a great many silk 
factories, employing thirteen thousand 
men ancl women. Two centuries later 
there were hardly two thousand silk 
weavers in the town. 

During two visits in Seville I found 
that the Cathe<lral commanded and ab- 
sorbed my attention. As in Venice the 
sti'anger naturally makes his way twice 
or thrice daily to the Place of St. Mark, 
so in Seville, whether or not one be 
jiiously inclined, he ])ushes aside the 
leathern curtains on the door-ways at 
the entrance of the Cathedral several 
times each day ; and at each visit to the 
interior of the great church he finds 
something new on which to feast his eyes. 
Now it is a dance of i)ages, in media-val 
costume, before the great central altar ; 
niiw it is a procession, — anil where are 
the religious processions so i)icturesque 
and so rich in color as in Spain? — now 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



]29 



a sermon by some buxom friar to a, con- 
gregation of one or two thoiisand ladies, 
who are seated on the flag-stones, humbly 
taking in the word of the 
gospel ; now, it is the fu- 
neral of some nobleman, 
with majestic singing by 
scores of monks in the 
carven stalls of the mrn : 
in short, it is a perpetual 
succession of spectacles, 
each one of which has its 
peculiar charm. 

In the Sacristy are the 
famous tables given by 
Alfonso the Good to this 
historic church. They are 
of gilded silver without, 
and of gold within, and 
covered with chisellings 
encrusted with precious 
stones. There, also, is 
the gi'eat silver key, on 
the wards of which is the 
inscription, " God wiU 
open and the King will 
enter." Underneath the 
riugof this key are graven 
ships, lions, and castles. 
The custodians say that 
this was the key given by 
the Moors to King Fer- 
dinand when they gave 
up the city of Seville. 
There, too, is a majestic 
chandelier of bronze, 
which serves for the office 
of the Holy "Week when 
the streets of Seville are 
transformed into a vast 
religious fair, and when the hotels are 
thronged with visitors from the four (piar- 
ters of the world. This chandelier is tilled 
with columns, caryatids, statues, and other 
ornaments in relief. In this Sacristy is the 
Tabernacle, worth tifteeu thousand or 



sixteen thousand dollars of our money. 
This is carried in the procession on the 
day of the festival of the Holy Sacrament. 




BEGGARS AT THE CATHEDRAL DOOR. 



It is of incomparable richness, and is 
covered with most curious figures of 
angels and of saints. 

From the top of the Giralda Tower 
we looked down upon the great square 
in which the Inquisition used to roast its 



130 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



iiiihapiiy victims, aiiil tried to iiiuiniiie 
the scene ; l)iit it .seeineil to us inrredilile 
that so snnm', so i)eaeeful, and so beau- 
tiful a phice shouUl luive been chosen 
I'cjr the exercise of tlie ratic of tlie most 
liigoted monks the world has ever kmiwu. 
We preferred to dismiss from i lur 
thoughts the remembrance of these hor- 
rors, recollecting that the Inquisition lias 
long ago had its teeth drawn, and to call 
up. as we looked over beautiful Seville, 
the poetic figures of the great painters 
and sculptors who have made the town 
illustrious. The school of Seville counts 
among its glories. Zurliaran, Fernandez, 
Velascjuez, and Ilerrera. IMurillo was, 
in [xiint of fact, not a native of Seville, 
altliough the Sevillans claimed him as 
one of their own. ]'>ut he ha^ Icfl in the 
town a hundred evidences of his great- 
ness, and none more striking than the 
paintiuus in the chapel of the hos|)ital 
for indigent old men. In this chapel the 
paintings are keiit reverently screened liy 
curtnius, which the attendant nuns will 
draw away for the strangei' who liestows 
charity upon the hospital. 

'I'lic gardens of the Alcazar seemed 
niori' like the sudilen embodiment of a 
poet's dream than like tlie result (if the 
carefully planned luxury of Moorish and 
Spanish sovereigns. They are still 
inaiiitaiue(l in their pristine beauty, and 
are filled with fountains, groves of orange 
and lemon trees, and with a, jirofusion of 
delicate tropical phnits and Howers. 

Not far from these gardens <.)f the 
Alcazar is a palace in which resides, for 
some portion of each year, the Duke de 
Mont|)ensier. otherwise known as An- 
toiue Alarie Philippe. Louis d'Orleans. 
The Duke de Montpensier is a well-known 
figure in half-a-dozen European capitals, 
as he is almost as inveterate a traveller 
as Daniel Pratt. He is the fifth sou of 
Kina: Louis Philiniie. and was amontr 



the gallant princes v,ho took piart in the 
fn-st <'ampaigus in Algi'ria. Bravery has 
always been one of his chief qualities, 
and it stood out in strong relief in hiii 
fatal duel with his cousin, the Infante 
Don Enrique de liourlion. The Duke 
married, in l.slC. the sisti-r of C^ueen 
Isabel of Spain, a marriaee wliicli at the 
time was considcj'cd a very adroit piece 
of management on the [lart of Louis 
Phili|ipe, and caused great irritation, and 
almost open ruiiture, between France and 
England. 

The Duke has ))een much disturbed by 
revolutions. After the events of Feli- 
ruary. 184.S. in Paris, he fied to England 
with his family; thence to Holland, and 
afterwards to .Seville, where he has 
finally settled in the charming palace 
just mentioned. He was compehed to 
leave Spain after the fright of <^ueen 
Isaliel in IsCiS; gave up liis rank in the 
army, his title of Infante, and his deco- 
rations which lie had received from the 
Queen ; but, under the provisional gov- 
ernment, he got permission to return to 
Seville, and then set up his caudidatui^' 
for the emi)ty throne. About that time, 
however, liis chances were mined liy the 
aliove-meutioned duel, which uuist cause 
liim many a twinge of conscience, al- 
though his attitudi', as men of the world 
consider such things, was strictly correi't. 
There had long been a quarrel between 
the Duke and his cousin, which was 
brought to a sanguinary conclusion by 
Don Enrique's letter, talking aliout the 
" suborned villains " who were ready to 
jiroclaim ]Montpensier King of S[)ain. 
The Duke iunuediately challenged his 
cousin, anil met him on the 12th of 
March, 1870, on the artillery ground 
about three miles from Madrid. Three 
shots were exchanged, the Duke, the third 
time, taking deadly aim and shooting his 
cousin through the head. For this little 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



131 



incident in his career he was tried liy 
court-martial, sentenced to one month's 
banishment from the capital, and to i)ay 
an indemnity to the family of his slaiu 
cousin. His political ambitions are per- 
haps over, for he is now an old man, 
althounh still erect and strong, and fond 
of constant bustle and excitement. In 
Paris he makes his head-quarters at the 
H6tel de Londres, which has loug been 



a favorite resort for the Orleans family, 
and from his b,alcony in the hotel he 
looked down upon the funeral of Gambetta 
not long ago. It is sometimes the fash- 
ion to say that the Duke helps his 
younger cousins to conspire, but nothing 
has transpired to prove this. He is, and 
will probably remain, as the Comte de 
Chambord was at the time of his death, 
a monarchical candidate in partibus. 



132 



EUROPE L\ STORM A\D CALM. 



CHAPTER TIIIHTEEN. 

The French Empire in 1869. — Subterranean Throes. — Maniiest.itions. — Tlie As^assinalion of Victor Noir. 
— Pierre Bonaparte. — The EMe of Roclieibrt. — Two llundreil and Fifty Thousand Workmen sinj^- 
iii;; Ihe Marselflaist'. — Tlic Imperial Pre^s Law. 



WIIP>N Irrtiiriicd IVdiii Spain, in tlu' 
autiiinn (if l.si;;), the siiliUTriuifaii 
tliroi's which hatl lieeii aimounfi'd by the 
Vdleauif shimnicr were clearly iierceptible. 
The Eni'iirc had met with .serious reverses 
.since the close of its s[)lendid festival of 
18G7, and there was a straniie irony \n 
the fate which fashioned the iustrmnents 
of its destruction out of the power which 
it had persecuted most uiu'clentinoly 
since the I'oup iVEtat. 

Xothini; could be more intei'estiui;' to 
a journalist tiian to watch the liatlle i.if 
Freiieli journalism with the French Em- 
pire in this autinnn of l^G'J. The two 
powers were fairly pitted against each 
other, neither desirinii' to give nor to take 
quarter. Kochefoi-t had arisen into u 
power with which the Empire was com- 
pelled to coiuit. lie had grouped around 
him maiiv muiily and some disreputable 
liersouages. and was recognized as a 
jiossible leader in any riot or revolution 
whii-li mightoccur. Ivocliefoi't iiad licen, 
since the annihilation of his LuiitrniL' in 
Paris, jiublishing this little jiajicr at 
Brussels, and having it smuggled into 
France. The Emiiire, which had at one 
time fined him 10.000 francs, sen- 
tenced him to ;i yi'ar's impris(jnment, 
and deprived him for a year of his civil 
rights, in vain heai)ed upon him new- 
sentences. From his secure retreat in 
Belgium iie sent fortli most virulent 
attacks upon the l-jupire an<l all tlie Im- 
jierial iiersonages ; and to crown his 
tiiumph he was electetl by the Irrecon- 



cilable Democrats to the Corps Leghlati^f 
from one of the wavds of Paris. He 
came boldly into France, and was. of 
course, arresteil on crossing the Belgian 
frontier ; but the Em])eror, who did not 
tlare to treat Kociiefort otherwise than 
with consideration, gave the journalist a 
safe conduct, allowing him t<.i remain in 
the country until after the election. 

Ivochefort I'cceived nearly l.S.OOO votes 
against iy,445 given to his opponent, 
and naturally was safe from arrest so 
soon as he was elected de|)uty. His 
popularity in those days was so great 
that he c<:mid not apjiear in an o[ien car- 
riage, or in the court-yard of a hotel, with- 
out attracting an immense crowd. People 
liked to jirotest against the methods of 
the Empire by silently manifesting their 
appreciation of its oi)i:ionents. They did 
not dare to cheer, or to print wiiat they 
thought about the courage(jus journalists 
who were opening the way to the Rei)ub- 
lic, but they could not lie hindered from 
■■manifesting " now and again upon the 
streets. 

In those days manifestations were 
much talked of, and the I'-mpire had a 
certain dread of tliein. On the day of 
mv return from Spain, in October of 
18t)9, a great gathering was announced 
to take place on the Place de la Con- 
corde. Hut the cavalry and infantry 
were set in motion, and few peojile liked 
to run the risk of arrest, so that the mani- 
festation was all made liy one vapor- 
ing, crazy, old man, who had long been 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



133 



a familiar sight iu Paris, and wlio ha- 
rangued the Obelisk of Luxor conoorning 
things in general, but was not so crazj- 
that he undertook to attack the Empire. 
The creati(.in of the MarseiUaise by 
Rochefort, in Decemlier of 1809, was 
scoffed at by the supporters of tlio 
Emjiire, l>ut it proved to be a power- 
ful agent iu hastening the downfall of 



great Communal insurrection, to Prince 
Pierre Bonaparte, to ask satisfaction for 
an insult which the Prince, who was any- 
thing but princely in his manner of speech, 
liad addressed to the editors of a radical 
paper, called the Revenge. Prince 
Piei-re, as the Empire's ill-luck would 
have it, was in a frightful temper on the 
morning of Victor Noir's visit ; and when 




THE MURDER OF VICTOR NOIR. 



the Imperial authority. The very uame 
of this saucy and vindictive journal was 
a menace to Napoleon, who had ren- 
dered it a penal offence to sing the 
MarseiUaise in any part of the domain 
of France. Attached to this paper was 
a young Parisian journalist, a veritable 
enfant du peuple , ignorant, but energetic, 
and wielding a caustic pen. On the 
10th of .January. 1870, this young man, 
whose )wm de plume was Victor Noir, 
was sent by Paschal Grousset. who was 
afterwards destined tij) play a rdle in the 



the young journalist, accompanied bv 
one of his colleagues, entered the apart- 
ment of the Prince at Auteuil and stated 
his mission, there was a lively quarrel. 
The Prince had challenged Rochefort on 
the previous evening, and fancied that 
Noir and his companion had come 
from the celebrated journalist with his 
answer. When he discovered his mis- 
take he took the letter which the young 
journalist handed him, read it carefully 
through, tossed it ui)on a chair, and, 
advancing, said : — 



134 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



" I fhallcngoil M. Roebefort becausu 
he is the color-bearer of the moli : as 
to M. Grousset, I have no answer for 
him. Are you in sympathy with these 
wretches ? " 

Victor Noir iunnediately answerctl 
that he was entirely in symijathy with 
the persons whom he represented ; 
whereupon, the Prince gave him a blow 
in his face, and then, stepping baciv, 
drew a revolver and tired at Noir, wlio 
was at that moment very near him. 

The young man jiressed his liand to 
his Ijreast, and managed to wallv out of 
the house, b\it fell npon the sidewalk, 
and died almost instantly. A more 
cowardly assassination was never com- 
mitted, nor one less excusable from 
every point of the French code relative 
to the maintenance of honor. Prince 
Pierre's version, carefully prepared 
afterwards, was tliat he was att:i<'ked 
by Victor Noir, and that he saw tlie 
other journalist aliout to draw a pistol: 
whereupon he (U'termined to dctend 
himself. 

The excitement caused by the news 
that a member of the Imperial family — 
for Prince Pierre, although he was the 
hite noir of liis entln'oned cousin, and 
as little imperial as might well lie imag- 
ined, still bore the name of Bonaiiarte — 
had assassinated a child of the people, 
is cjuite impossible to descrilie. Tiie 
MarseiUalxe appeared next morning 
framed in black, and thousands on thou- 
sands of coi)ies were sold on the streets, 
before the i)olice interfered to prevent 
a further circulation of an "Appeal to 
the People," which Rochefort, casting 
all jirudence to the winds, had signed 
and printed. Tlie iiead-lines, " Assas- 
sination of a Citizen by Prince Pierre 
Bonaparte," " Attempted Assassination 
of another Citizen by Prince Pierre 
Bonaparte," provoked an uprising in the 



pojiular quarters, where the workmen 
had long desired a pretext to descend 
into the aristocratic section of the city, 
and manifest their disapproval of the 
Kmpire and its followers ; and there 
were some exciting moments at the Tnil- 
eries during these lileak January days 
which followed the \'ictor Noir " inci- 
dent," as the Imperial journals called it. 

The murder occuri-ed on the Kith, and 
tlie funeral was tixed for the ll'th, of 
.lanuarv. On the morning of the funeral 
M. Rochefort came down to his oilice, to 
find that his journal had been seized, 
and that a demand for liis prosecution 
had been introduceil into the Corps 
Li'ijislittif; and the funeral, which took 
place in the early afternoon, certainly 
brought t(-)gether as many as two hun- 
dred and fifty thousand men of the 
working-classes, wlio left their workshops 
and went in orderly and grim procession 
down the long line of the lioulevard and 
up the Champs Elysees, an<l out to the 
little cemetery where the unlucky youth- 
ful journalist was to lie laid to rest. The 
Imperial authorities liad consigned to 
their barraclcs all the troojis in Paris, 
with instructions to he ready to march 
at a moment's notice, and the workmen 
were allowed to go to the funeral without 
any molestation whatever. Hundreds of 
police spies, in plain clothes, were dis- 
jiersed throughout the throng, and car- 
ried their reports from time to time to 
the Prefect of Police, who was to inter- 
fere if, on the return from the funeral, 
there was any attempt at a riot. 

It would be difficult to define the 
demeanor of the vast crowd assembled 
at this gathering. I have seen but 
one other demonstration like it in 
France, and that was, oddly enough, 
also at a funeral, — that of M. Thiers, 
wiiich took place during the great 
counter-revolution of 1877, when people, 



EUROPE r.V STORM AND CALM. 



135 



laboring iiiiflcr strong excitement, felt 
constrained in their own interests and 
in those of their country to refrain 
from any open expression of discontent 
with the government. At this funeral 
of Victor Noir the sea of upturned 
human faces, all filled with a profound 
discontent, a lurlcing ferocity which was 
not yet ready to wake into vigorous 



of Police clapped his hands and said, 
'• Here are a hundred thousand baj'onets 
fallen from heaven to help us ! " 

Tlie clever prefect understood the 
value of rain in damping the enthusiasm 
of mobs as well as did old Petion, Mayor 
of Paris, who looked out of his window 
and said, " There will be no revolution 
to-day, for it rains." 










UUCUEKOUT A^D THE WOKKIXG-MEN RIDDEN DOWN. 



action, but which seemed to prophesy 
terril)le things for the future, was an im- 
pressive spectacle, which no one who 
witnessed it can ever forget. The Im- 
perial police knew full well ui>on that 
day that a word, a song, a shout, 
might be sufficient to overturn the 
Empire, and a friend who was pres- 
ent in M. Pietri's cabinet, when the im- 
mense procession of workmen began to 
return from the cemetery, in the midst 
of a shower of rain, told me that the Chief 



But revolution was near at hand, and 
never nearer than when, as if moved by 
some sudden inspiration, some influence 
entirely independent of tlieir volition, 
these thousands upon thousands of work- 
men liegau to sing the MarseiUaise with 
a vigor and a rude energy wliich were 
quite startling. This splendid song, 
which had been so long tabooed, put 
a curious fire into the blood of many 
of the spectators who did not mingle in 
the manifestation. The end of the re- 



i;i(i 



EunoPE IX sroR.u axd calm. 



pi'essivo pei'i(Hl had come. What im 
mau dart'd tu do, what he could nut have 
done without beini^- fined and imin'isoned 
and qnalitied as a crinhnal, two hundred 
nnillit'tythonsandmen could do, and none 
could saytlrcni nay. The journal and the 
journalist had lirouuht aliout this suilden 
ujirisint;-. It tauiiht the i)e(.)i)le thattiiey 
had hut to move, and the obstacles in 
their road would lie lirnshed aside. This 
was a proud day for IJochefort. He 
was the lu'ro of the demonstration at 
the ci'inetery, and from the windows in 
the little housf in which the lien-aved 
Xoir family lived he liad made a rinu'- 
iug speech, in which, imwever, he coun- 
selled moderatiiju and [irudence ; for, 
he said, " The government woulil like 
nothing lietter than to put down forever 
the Uepn))lie, if we should try to declare 
it to-day. As to our vengeance, it will 
come. From the government we exjiect 
nothing, we wish nothing of it, and 
nothing further to do with it. Its fall 
is fated, and near at haml. For this 
reason I beg you to lie patient and 
calm." 

l)Ut this advice, like that of the stu- 
dent who begged his comrades not to 
nail the i)roetor's ears to the [innip, was 
taken in an inverse sense ; and I have no 
doubt that the thousands who went down 
the Champs Elys(5es singing the 3rnr- 
.seillaisi' thought that the Republic would 
be declareil that day. Kochefoi't was 
obliged to head tiiis strange procession, 
but presently found himself confronted 
with squadrons of cavalry, backed up by 
platoons of police ; and in the neighbor- 
hood of the Palais de ITndustrie he 
saw the glittering Iiayonets of regiments 
of infantry. The Riot Act was read, 
and the workmen, after great confusion 
and many threats, were dispersed. But 
all the quarters inhabited by the humbler 
cl.isses were in a perturbed state ; and, 



had it not lieeii for the incessant jiatrol- 
ling of the streets by cavahT, a revolu- 
tion would certainly have occurred that 
night. Prince Pierre was arrested by 
order of the Emperor, and taken to the 
CoDn'/'rijcric, where he was allowed cora- 
fortalile quarters in the director's room. 
1 visited him there, and shall never for- 
get the emphasis with whicli he declared 
that, if he might put himself at the head 
of a regiment of geiidtir/itcs, he would 
agree to sweep away all the would-be 
I'ioters within two liours. But his con- 
fidence was greater than that of his Im- 
jierial cousin, who began to feel that the 
end was indeed near at hand. 

This was the winter of 1870, and this 
was the second great blow which the 
fortunes of the Empire had received. In 
1SG8 Leon Ganibetta had entered upon 
the scene of French politics with that 
theatrical pose and magnificent ahandon 
which characterized all his movements 
until till' sudilcn and tragic close of his 
life ; and it was in connection with a 
liattle of the newspapers against the 
Empire that lie won immediate and last- 
ing renown. Ganibetta had been but 
little heard of outside the cafis and the 
dining-rooms of the Latin Quarter, where 
he was wont to air his contemptuous, and 
sometimes majestic, eloquence, until the 
Imperial ministry prosecuted the journals 
which had opened a subscription in honor 
of the memory of Baudin, the represent- 
ative of the people, who was killed upon 
a barricade in the Faubourg .St. Martin, 
at the time of the co/^/) d'etat. This sub- 
scription, and tlie orderly and inoffensive 
manifestations which took place at the 
tomb of Bauiliu in tlie Montmartre ceme- 
tery, were scarcely worth the rigors in 
which the Imperial courts had indulged, 
and the papers resolved to give battle. 

The Bh-eil. which was one of the first 
journals prosecuted, gave its case into the 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



137 



prniomiWlUlpi 




OAMBETTA IN TUE UAUDLN PltOSECUTION. 



bands of Gambetta. He wanted no finer 
opportunity to make the protest which 
be bad meditated upon for years, and in 
a passionate outburst of indignation, on 
one gloomy afternoon, ia a littb court- 
room in the Palais de Justice, he ha- 



rangued the head of tlie Second Empire 
as the betrayer of the trust reposed in 
him, and as the destroyer of the liberties 
of France. 

This produced au inmiense sensation, 
aU the greater because the country bad 



138 



EUROrE IN STORM AND CALM. 



been long destitute of a protcstiiifj; voice, 
ami the accusations of the vouhlc advo- 
cate i-aug through tlie whole land from 
Calais to Marseilles. So great was 
Gambetta's personal excitement on this 
occasion that, as M. Weiss has told us, 
the Imperial advocate and the president 
of the court tried in vain a number of 
times to interrupt and moderate liis pas- 
sionate harangue ; but then- voices were 
drowned in the thunder of the lawyer's 
speech and in the powerful protestation 
of his delivery. 

Thus, in an afternoon, Gambetta 
stepped into the front rank of European 
orators, and into tlie oiiposition to the 
Empire. At the general elections in 
1800 he was adopted as a candidate for 
Marseilles and for Paris. Son of the 
South, with the powerful yet poetic 
temperament of the people of Provence, 
lie appealed irresistibly to the passions 
and the affectit)ns of the people of Mar- 
seilles, and won his election there over 
such powerful opponents as M. de Les- 
seps and M. Thiers. At Paris his 
victory was absolute. He chose to rej)- 
reseut I\Iai-seilles, and thus permitted 
Rochefort to take his seat in the Corps 
Lec/islatif, for Rochefort had been a can- 
didate in the same ward as Gambetta. 
He was soon at the head of the little 
band of " Irreconcilables," as they were 
called, and was one of the most valiant 
defenders of Rochefort when tlie govern- 
ment asked the chamber to authcn-ize the 
prosecution of the editor of the Miirseil- 
laiM'. 

Looking back upon the history of the 
Second Empire, it seems almost incredi- 
ble that Napoleon HI. and his minis- 
ters should not have possessed sufficient 
common-sense to have accepted the 
lessons of French history. They should 
have realized that it has always been 
fatal to French governments perma- 



nently to trilie witii the liberties of the 
press. But, from the moment that the 
cou]^ (VEtat was a success, the Empire 
had signalled out the public prints as 
containing the greatest danger to the 
newly made Enii)ire. To read the press 
law of that period is almost stupefying. 
One wonders Low a nation could have 
permitted such complete degradation of 
its liberties. Trial by jury for all press 
offences was abolished, and the unhappy 
writer who had offended the reigning 
powers was brought up like a com- 
mon malefactor before the Correctional 
Court. In 18.J2 a specialh' odious legis- 
lation against tiie )iress was enacted. 
It subjected all political journals to what 
might be called a preventive n'ghne, 
placing them at the mercy of the gov- 
ernment. It so raised the " stamp- 
tax," and the sum of the " caution 
moriey " to be de|iosited, that the crea- 
tion of a journal by persons of mod- 
erate means was impossible. It then 
prevented the foundation of journals 
treating of political or social economy 
without a special decree, which it was 
dithcult to get. Then, when the jour- 
nal was founded, its existence was ex- 
tremely precarious. A warning would 
be sent in by an Imiierial olHcial. and 
the editor was expected innnediately to 
profit by it; for a third warning carried 
with it the suppression of the offending 
JDurnal. It was forbidden to journal- 
ists to give any account of the sessions 
of the Corps U-i/islatif and the Senate 
other than that furnished liy the official 
reporters. This regulation, which is 
almost Oriental in its despotic flavor, is 
justly characterized by a famous French 
writer as at once puerile and grotesque. 

But it is useless to pass in extended 
review the press legislation of the Empire. 
I will finish by illustrating the working 
of the stamp-tax, which was one of the 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



139 



meanest of the small tyrannies levied 
against the free circulutiou of the printed 
word. Every American journal which 
came into France dnring the Empire paid 
a tax of six cents. Returning from a 
visit to Germany, shortly after the dec- 
laration of war, and just before the 
siege of Paris began, I found waiting me 
atabanking-honseeighty American news- 
papers, upon each one of wliicli I was 
compelled to pay the sum of six cents. 
This stamp-tax was a grievous bur- 
den upon provincial newspapers, and 
undoubtedly prevented their extensive 
circulation. M. de Villemessant, of the 
Figaro^ tried to avoid a portion of the 



stamp-tax upon liis paper by liaving edi- 
tions printed in Brussels, and brought into 
France ; but the Empire soon put a stop 
to tliis. In the Corps Lkjislatif, in 1870, 
a movement was made to do away with 
the odious tax ; but it was immediately 
stated that " the government could not 
allow the abolition of such a source of 
income before 1872." The repressive 
influence of the tax can be best judged 
of by the fact that the Petit Journal of 
Paris circulated only three hundred tliou- 
sand copies under the Empire ; but under 
the Republic has a circulation of eight 
hundred thousand copies. 



140 



EUROPE jy STORM AXD CALM. 



CHAPTER FOURTEEN. 

Thf Emperor ami his Speeches from the Throne. — Openhif; Day of the Cor;)S Li^gislafif. — The Opposi- 
tion. — .Skctflics of the Leading JTemhers. — M. Thiers and his Attitmle towards the Second 
Empire. — The Splendor of his Irony. — Ilis Eloquence ( haraoterizcd. — Bcrryer, Lanjuinais, .Jules 
Simon, and .Jules Ferrv. ^ Kochefort an J his Yellow tilovcs. 



FEW sofiies in European eoremonios 
were more tmiqne iu glow of i)ict- 
in-es(jnc uiilfdrnis. liriUiant toilettes of 
ladies, and o-oi-g^ous equipag'es, than the 
opening of the French chambers during 
the reign of the Emperor Napoleon III. 
We have seen that the Second Empire 
was noted for its jmnctilious regard for 
ceremonials, and the profusion of its 
sjilendor, whenever occasion offered. On 
tlic ri'tnni from Compi^gne to town, the 
lirst duty of the " man of destiny" and 
his retainers was to open the legislative 
liodies " with a speech from the throne." 
A iirocession, in which the order of 
precedence in rank was most carefully 
observed, passed through the Palace of 
the Tuileries on the day of the opening, 
thnnigh the rooms under the Clock Pa- 
vilion, along the Place du Carrousel, to 
the Salle des /Otats, in the ancient Louvre. 
The Cciit-Gtinh'ti. in tlieir charming uni- 
forms of blue and red, rixle l)ehind the 
Emperor's carriage, in his miniature 
journey from i)alaee to i)alaee, gazing 
neither to right nor to left, erect, imper- 
tnrbalile a.s stone images. The crowd 
in the Place du Carrousel was always 
extremely democratic. There wi'ie 
roughs from Belleville, market-w(jmen 
from the Halles Centrales, commercial 
men from the hotilcvanh, and fine-look- 
ing ladies, with their pretty daughters, 
from the Faubourg St. Germain; and 
there, too, was a fringe of working-men, 
iu blue and white blouses, who were 



supposed to have suspended their work 
that they might admire the passage of 
their sovereign, but wlio wer-e really, on 
most opening days, •' hired for the 
occasion." 

Tile Place du Carrousel is a noble 
square, into which thousands of persons 
can pack themselves without tiie least 
inconvenience . Under the smoothly paved 
fioorweresaid to run huge passages, com- 
municating with the adjacent barracks, so 
that at any time the armed men of Cad- 
mus iniglit s|)ring out of the ground at a 
sudden signal. The brown walls of- the 
Louvre, from which hjolj down tlie stat- 
ues of the artists and historians of old 
France, are richly and grotesquely carved. 
TJie lieautiful jiark in the centre of the 
scpiare is kept green until very late in 
tlic autumn, ami fountains scud iq) their 
jewelled spray night and day. In sum- 
mer this park is tlie resort of contem- 
plative nurse-maids, with lialiies clinging 
t(.) their skirts. l!ut on the I'Dth of No- 
vember, '■ opening day." the square was 
invaded liy tiie sliowy carriages of the 
members of the diplomatic corps and all 
the great State functionaries, the magis- 
trates, and the reiiresentatives of the 
commercial corporations. The diplo- 
matic carriages were passed in review as 
they s]ied down the narrow line formed 
by the waiting throng, and the occupant 
of each vehicle was cheered, or treated 
with contemptuous silence, according as 
the poiiular passions were influenced for 



EUROPE m STORM AXD CALM. 



141 




THE SPEECH FROM THE THRONE. 



or against the coiiiitrv which it repre- 
sented. 

But no demonstrations, either of respect 
or disrespect, were indulged in when tlie 
Imperial master, who had inaugurated 



tiou of his intention to'' preserve order," 
appeared upon the scene. A double line 
<if soldiers extended from the iron fence 
surrounding the Clock Pavilion of the 
Tuileries down to the Louvre door, over 



his career by such an energetic aflirma- which a silken canopy was raised. 0(ti- 



14-2 



ECROPE IX STOR.U AXD CALM. 



cers with ilrawii swonls panuk-d before 
their men. and presently the Emperor's 
carriage, witli one before and one fol- 
lowing it. (b'ove slowly down through 
the double line. In the Salle des fitats 
Kapoleon mounted the throne in the 
midst of his cardinals, his favorites, and 
the various dignitaries he had created ; 
and the I'rinee Imperial was placed on a 
lower chair or stood up nearby. A\ hen 
the Empi-ess attended the Speech f n im the 
Throne slie usually arrived a short time 
before the Em|)eror, whogenerally cameiu 
in a hurry, plumped down into the throne 
chair, glanced at the decorations and at 
the audience, mopiiecl his face with his 
handkerchief. lo(ike<l a little periilexed, 
then jumped up and began his speech, 
which was usually of stereotyped form, 
with very slight changes for an allusion 
to the iiujiortant events of the year. In 
18G9 he oliserved in his speech that it 
was diflicult to maintain liberty ])eace- 
ably in France. After the speech a 
salute of twenty -one guns was lired from 
the Esplanade (if the luvalides ; then the 
names of the tleputies were called, anil 
were freipu'utly saluted by applause or 
scornful laug'hter from the favored ones 
who had been invited to the ceremony. 
Tiie little knot of Opi)osition deputies of 
the Corji--< Li'(ji!<l(itif rarely attended the 
Speech from the Throne, and desired 
their alisence h) be interpreted as a pro- 
test against the Em})eror's particiiiatiou 
in the politics of tlie Emiiire which he 
had created. 

The work of the sessicju was begun on 
the follov.iug day in the Palais Bourbon, 
which had lieen invaded liy tiie soldiers 
of Napoleon III. at the time of the conji 
(J'Etat. and wliich was destined t(j lie the 
scene of the Empire's downfall in 1870. 
This ol<l-fashioned palace, with its great 
door like a triumphal arch in the centre 
of an open Corinthian colonnade, is one 



of the gaudy monuments of the eigh- 
teeuth century, and was built by 
ail Italian architect for the dowa- 
ger Duchess of r>ourbon. "When the 
Kevolutiou came the palace was confis- 
cated to the nation, and in 1790 was 
known as tht Mnisnii de Ik lierolutwn. 
In 1795 the reception-rooms of the 
palace were transformed into an as- 
sembly hall for the Council of the Five 
Hundred; and in 180-1 Napoleon I. 
ordered the construction of the monu- 
mental facade which overlooks tiie river 
Seine. The palace is adorned with bas- 
reliefs, representing France standing be- 
tween " Liberty" ami ■• Public order; " 
a bit of sculpture which the Emperor, it 
is said, used to contemplate with great 
satisfaction, and which he considered 
typical of his reign. There are also 
colossal statues to Themis and Minerva, 
and to Sully. C(jlbert. and other great 
Frenchmen. The hall in which the legis- 
lators of the Emjiire sat was in the 
form of a hemicycle, with seats rising, 
as in a P<iinaii amiihitlieatre. Around 
about, at the top. are ranged statues of 
Iveas(jii, Justice, Prudence, and Elo- 
quence, and between the pedestals of the 
columns were bas-reliefs, representing 
Louis Philiiiiie accomiilishing certain 
acts of his reign. In numerous other 
halls of the palace are |iaintings by 
Horace 'N'ernet, and statues of Mira- 
beau, of Bailly, of Casimir Perier, and 
(ieneral Foy. The throne hall is dec- 
orated with paintings by Delacroi.x. 
Attached to the [lalace is a small and 
elegant mansion, which is always inhab- 
ited liv tlie president of tlie Lower 
Chamlier. and the iiossession of which is 
one of the percpiisites attached to his 
otHce. Here Gambetta came, when at 
the height of his career, to occupy the 
rooms in which the Imperial favorites 
had li^ed liefore hiin, and which would 



EUROPE Iif STORM AND CALM. 



143 



have seemed to him, in 18G9, as far out 
of his reach as the North Pole. 

The old Palais Bom-ljou was given 
back to the Prince of Cond^, who wtis 
the grandson of the Duchess of Piourbon, 
in 1814 ; but he continued to allow the 
State to occupy it, and the Chamber con- 
tinued its sessions there. In 1827 the 
government purchased from him a ])art 
of the palace, and in 1830 bouuht tlie 
remainder from the Due d'Aumaie, 
into whose hands it had come, spending, 
it is said, about 10,000,000 francs 
for the purchase. In the Revolution of 
1848 the peojile stormed the Palais 
Bourbon, and wlien the Constituent As- 
sembly came to take its seat there a 
temporary hall was provided for them. 
This was again invaded on the loth of 
May, 1848, and was demolished at the 
beginning of the Empire. 

There was more curiosity about the 
session of the Corps Lvgislatif in the 
latter days of the Second Emi)ire than 
people manifest about the sessions of the 
Republican Chamber of Deputies, chiefly 
because the newspapers were not allowed 
to indulge in the free-and-easy reports 
of the debates which are now so uni- 
versal. But there was rarely, from 18G7 
to the Empire's downfall, any remarkable 
eloquence in the halls of the Palais Bour- 
bon, unless it came from the little group 
of the Opposition. M. Rouher was a con- 
vincing sjjeaker only for those who had 
made up their minds to adopt the Im- 
perial policy. He would talk on for 
hours, uttering platitudes as if they 
were the most brilliant sallies of wit. 
In the autumn of 18G9, and during the 
winter session of 1870, the attention of 
the country was closely drawn to the at- 
titude of the Opposition, which had been 
waxing valiant year by year, and which 
now had become openly aggressive. 
Gambetta had not, as vet, begun to 



speak with freedom in the Corps Legis- 
httif; Init his mere presence, after his 
tremendous tilt at the Imperial power in 
his speech about the Baudiu subscrip- 
tion, seemed to give fresh confidence and 
energy to the men who had been battling 
for free institutions, and fighting for an 
apparently hopeless cause, since the elec- 
tion of 1857. 

In that year five Repul>licans entered 
the Corps Li'ijislat if. and allot them were 
destined to play an imi)ortant part in the 
declining- years of the Empire. These 
five men were Jules Favre, Ernest Picard, 
Emile (Jllivier. Ilenou, and Darimon. 
In those days to si)eak against the gov- 
ernment was little less than a crime, and 
the majorities of the Empire were almost 
unanimous. In this trying school Jules 
Favre, one of the most polished and 
accomiilished orators whom France has 
ever possessed, won golden opinions on 
all sides for the richness and beauty of 
hisdictiou, and, from allgenerous-miuded 
men, for the liberalism of his ideas. 
Emile OUivier, too, had no thought of 
rallying to the Emjiire then ; and these 
few were so accustomed to fighting alone 
that they were somewhat surprised when, 
in the general elections of 18C3, Jules 
Simon, Glais-Bizoin, and many other 
men of mark, were added to their num- 
lier. In 18(J4 the new elections brought 
to the C'o>7wZ/(';//.s/a/(/'noless personages 
than MM. Thiers, Berryer, and Lanjui- 
nais. These three strong men gravitated 
naturally to the Republican group, al- 
though it is certain that M. Thiers, at 
that time, would have been loth to declare 
himself a Republican. But their counsels 
and their vast jKilitical and legal elo- 
quence added strength to the Opposition, 
which the Empire was far from disdain- 
ing. '"We remember well," writes M. 
Jules Simon. •• this epoch, when all 
those who did not give themselves up to 



144 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



tlio Eiii[iir(_> ii(isse^.sc(l ;i coimiion h;lt^' 
and a ccjinuiiiu love : a hate for the ii'ov- 
eniineiit whose whole history and policy 
reposed upon falsehood and tended to 
tyranny ; a. lo\e for all liberty, wliieh was 
doubly dear to them by tlie contrast." 
In isr,;) the (Jiipositiou was still further 
strengthened by the election of MM. Uar- 
theleniy St. Ililaire. Jules Ferry, Gaui- 
betta, .Jules Grevy, Kaniiiont, Wilsi.ii. 
and the malicious and ambitious Koche- 
fort. There was but cue desertion from 
the ranks of this brave party durinii' the 
existence of the Emjiire, and that was in 
1867, when Emile OUivier was converted 
to the Empii'e by the specious promises 
of constitutional reform which the Em- 
peror had made. 

The <ireat men of the Oi)position until 
the oix'uing of 1870 were unques- 
tionably MM. Thiers, Berryer, Jules 
Favre, and Jules .Simon. The attitude 
of M. Thiers towards the Empire was 
invariably cinious, and in some respects 
c<->niical. No tiiitire in the Chamber was 
more dreaded by the Imperialist ))arty 
than that of this wizened littli' man, 
with his white hair, his wrinkled feat- 
ures, his squeaky voice, and his aluni- 
dant tiestures. Around his venerable 
form there seemed to cling the halo of 
half a, hundred ministerial revolutions, 
of conspiracies and intrigues iniiumcr- 
alile. Wars and rumors of wars, antl 
dililomatic combinations too numerous 
to mention, were connected with liis 
parliamentary history. He was a [ler- 
petual thorp in the tlesh of the Em[)eror, 
whom he persistently treated as an ill- 
behaved stri|iling. Time was. indeed, 
when the old man eloquent, in the 
pauses of his wrath, came down into 
the reiiions of irony, and lashed the 
Emperor with phi'ases which, while they 
could not be resented, cut like the 
thrust of a keen rapier. Wherever and 



whenever it was possible to attack ; 
whether on que-rions of internal or ex- 
ternal [loliey ; whether upon free trade 
or upon Iving [iromises of nuieh-needed 
reform, — the alert and intense patriot 
was to the fore, never at fault for a 
fact, and drawing from the storehouse 
of his prodigious memory a hundred 
wounding and unpleasant souvenirs 
with which to assail and belittle the Im- 
perial legend. It is believed that in 
the last days of the Euqiire M. Thiers, 
long liefore he confessed it, was con- 
verted to Iiepul)!ica!iism by the keen 
disgust wliicli he felt for the jirocesses 
of the Empire. His profound knowl- 
edge of European atfairs, his innnenso 
and tender patriotism, his deej) regret 
and shame for the manner iu v/hich the 
resources of France were neglected, 
and his si-oi'n for the army of courtiers 
and courtesans which lilinded the Em- 
peror to the danger approai-hing him, 
caused M. Thiers many a pang whit'h 
he would not confess to the stranger ; 
for of all men of this latter half of 
this century, not even excepting Lin- 
coln, no man has felt so intensely for 
his country as did M. Thiers, lie lived 
to see his promises justified, and to 
take into his hands, feeble as they were, 
at a time when most men are called to 
sit in a corner and look on, the defence 
of the nation which had fieen so rudely 
tried, and to lilow into flame with iiis 
breath the almost extingi;ished embers 
of national feeling. 

The eloquence of M. Thiers in the 
Chamlier f)f the Enqiire was rarely, as we 
came to see it in later days, pathetic 
and touching, almost surcharged with 
tears; but it was harsh, biting, vindic- 
tive, sparkling, sometimes wicked. The 
jiractical side of the old man was always 
uppermost. lie hated, despised, ridi- 
culed, punished ; but he did not w'eep. 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



145 



He dill not rise into passionate appeal dominates the Assembly with his head 
anil nolile flights of speech until tlie thrown back. He carries it as ^lira- 
hour of supreme danger had arrived. beau carried his. He settles himself in 
M. Berrver and M. Thiers made a the trilmne, and takes possession of it as 
splendid pair. It was not in vain that if he were the master, I had almost said 




THIERS IN THE TRIBUNE. 



M. Berrver had been called, " after the desjiot. But tiiat which is especially 

Mirabeau, the greatest of French ora- incomparalile in him is the rich sound of 

tors." "Ho is," said an admiring his \'oice, the first of beauties in actors 

writer, who described him when he was and orators." He was a Liberal whom 

at the height of his brilliant career, Republicans coveted, and with whom 

"eloquent in all his personality. He they could not fail to sympathize, re- 



14G 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



ineinboriiig th;U lie luul been the de- 
fender of Laiiieiinnis, that he had umed 
the enact iiieiit of many denioeratie hiws 
and that he had manifested towards the 
Emperor an nucompromising hostility-, 
even refusing wJieu he was elected a 
member of the Academy to make the 
accustomed visit to the Chief of State. 
It is fair to suppose that had M. Ber- 
ryer lived to join with M. Thiers in the 
great events which followed the Septem- 
ber Revolution in LSTO, he, too, might 
have announced his faitli in the Repub- 
lic, frankly relinciuishing the monarchi- 
cal principles which were no longer 
possible in his country. 

Jules Ferry and Jules Simon, as 
members of the Opi'Osition, were widely 
different in their methods of attack 
and in their views on many subjects. 
Their parliamentary reputation is justly 
great, and will live long in the history of 
France. Both had only to open their 
mouths to ciiarni tiie listeners. M. 
Simon, who is to-day more conservative 
than he was before the establisiiment of 
the Republic, showed, in his subtle and 
adroit tactics, the results of the educa- 
tion which he had received at the hands 
of the .Jesuits ; yet he was and is a fine 
liunianitarian, and was then deeply im- 
pressed with the necessity for a complete 
change, personally grieved at the dura- 
tion of the Empire, and gifte<l with sueli 
facility for luminous exposition of his 
views that lii' was iiighly jirized, even 
by those Re|)ublieans who did not tliink 
he went ([uite far enongli. 

Jules Favre had been a conspicuous 
figure from the outset of tlie Imperial 
n'r/ime. He had refused to ttike tlie oath 
to the new eoustitutioii. Ilr (U'fcnded 
(Jrsini in 1<S,")S in a speech of great bold- 
ness for the time. lie fought the sup- 
pression of the free press with all his 
might. lie declared against the war with 



Austria in 1X5',), and expended all the 
resources of his irony on the policy of 
the government in Mexico. It was sad 
that in later years he was singled out by 
the liand of Fate to take upon his shoul- 
ders the iiumiliations which should have 
been visited on the Empire, to be put in a 
place for which he was scarcely fit, — that 
of Minister of War after the establish- 
ment of the government of National De- 
fense, — and to be compelled day by day 
for weeks to fence with that consummate 
master of intrigue, the then Count Bis- 
marck, who was prepared to exact from 
France witliout mercy. 

The other Repulilican figures in the 
Coqis Legislatif were not of enduring 
importance. M. Bartlieleniy St. Ililaire 
was a veneralileiihilosoiiher, who assumed 
considerable prominence after the fall of 
the Emi)ire. Men like Cremieux, Es- 
qniros, Bethmout, and Wilson were hard 
workers, and occasionally made good 
speeches. The obstinate and ca[)able 
Jules Ferry, destined to have a long and 
strong political career later on. was just 
tlieu emerging from obscurity, writing 
vigorously in the columns of Kepublican 
papers against Baron Haussmaun and his 
administration of the city of Paris, and 
recognized as a growing man, but not as 
a leader. Gambetta. as I have said, was 
g'athering his forces for the great efforts 
which were to come. M. C4re vy , who was 
to be the President of tlie Republic, was 
but little heard of. The Radical (■//'/((P 
distinguished itself, as it does to-day. by 
noisy and even liy absurd in'oposilions, 
which the Empire treated with the same 
passionless disdain accorded to the party 
by the moderate Rei)ublieans of to-day. 
Rochefort felt ill at ease and out of place 
in the legislative body. "He wore," 
said a lady who described to me his first 
appearance in tlie Coriis Leijishitif, — "he 
wore yellow gloves." His picturesque 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



147 



personality procured liiin imich attention, 
however. His tall, gaunt form, his lean 
and scraggy features, his forehead sur- 
mounted with a tuft of hair already be- 
ginning to turn gray, were at once seized 
as legitimate prey Ijy the caricaturists' 
pencils. M. Rochefort never forgot that 
he was born a gentleman, and perhaps his 
yellow gloves were intended as a subtle 
stroke of policy with which to capture 
the Extremist mind. 

The Opposition made a vigorous cam- 
paign against the Plebiscite with which 
the Emperor strove to prop his failing 
fortunes ; and M. Simon has given us a 
lively description of the meetings in tlie 
Rue de la Sourdi^re. from wliieh head- 
quarters the Republicans used to send 
out hundreds of thousands of circulars, — 
the only sort of political document which 
could be distributed with impunity, and 
then simply because it emanated from 



the elected representatives of the people. 
The Empire always had its police present 
at these meetings, sometimes in plain 
clothes, but often in uniform, and under 
the pretext that the meetings were of a 
socialistic character. 

This accusation was entirely untrue. 
The battle, although a violent one, and 
fought with consummate energy, was 
lost. The Emi)ire got 7,3.50,000 citizens 
to vote "Yes," against 1,500,000 
"Noes," in favor of its project for 
revision of the constitution, and then 
turned ti-iumphantly to Europe with this 
remark: •• You see that the Emperor is 
indeed Emperor by the grace of God and 
the will of the people, and that the 
Empire will endure." 

So those who are about to die of a 
grave malady speak in hopeful and 
glowing terms of their recovery as near 
at hand. 



148 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



CHAPTER FIFTEEN. 

The EptH'li of Unification. — Dan,L:cr to Fntnce from the National Growth in Italy antt fierniany. — Xa- 
poli!on III. and his l*oIiey of ( iri'cd. — Itow he was Duped by the Xortlxern Powers. — Tlie Kiu;^' of 
I'nissia at Conipii-^'ne. — The (.'orouatiou JIarcli. — Bisiuarck in Paris. — The Luxembour;;- Atlair. — 
Bcnedetti and Bismarck. — Tlie Downfall of the Policy of Compeasatiou. 



FROM a Frfiieh point of view, ami 
for the piu'ijosc of earrviiig out tlie 
traditional jidlicy of Fi'auce, — a policy 
whieh we are not called upon here either 
to aii|irove or Maine. — the naticni had 
never been so much in need of stnnio- 
diplomats anil able iKjlitieian.s as it was 
duriiifi; the last ten years of the Second 
Empire. Castelar, in one of those 
stransje improvisations in which fancy 
and fact nin tosxether in perfe(.-t and 
dazzlino haiiiiony. has characterized 
each of the centuries since the dtiwn of 
the Renaissance, and lias called the nine- 
teenth ceiitiii'y th:it of dcniix-ra'.-y. He 
mio'ht have added tluit it was the cen- 
tury of the uuiiiratiou of peoples. 
In point of fact ]>\-ance was in danger 
at tlu^ very outset (jf the Second Empire 
from the powerful movements in ]iroo- 
ress in two neighhoring countries in 
favor of nnilication. Italy, which had 
heen for so long merely tin ancient 
name, covering, with some slieen from 
its old-time glory, a feeble series of dis- 
severed and warring States, had ;it last 
felt the national impulse, and was work- 
ing with all its might for consolidation 
and for unity. Throughout tlie length 
and breadth of (iermany the same 
feeling was more and more ajiparent 
yearly. On the sands of the north, 
where the 15randeiiburg pirates had 
once led a rude and reckless existence, 
a power had sprung up, wdiich had 
alretulv cast the shadow of centraliza- 



tion across the thrones of German 
dukes tiiid petty princes, and which 
was now and then liold enougli to talk 
of a vengeance upon France for the 
miseries and injuries which Napoleon I. 
had inflicted U|>oii Germany. 

With I'liited Italy on the one side, 
and United Gernmny (.>ii the otiier, it 
was evident tliid tlic policy of France 
must undcrg<> \ast niodilications, and 
tl'.at her rank as a [lOwer in Europe 
must fatally be reduced. There w^ere 
not wanting Frenchmen who thoroughly 
understood the danger : Frenchinen wily 
and exiierienced enoi:gh to have warded 
it off. or to have won for Fiance, when 
these great movements for foreign unity 
took [ilace, compensating advantages, 
which would have [ireserved her dignity 
tiiid her sttitiun. 

liiit these wily and experienced 
Freiiehineu had been set aside. They 
wrre placed in the ranks of the O[)[)osi- 
tion, of a hopi'icss and barren 0|)posi- 
tion, wdiich could not go to extreme 
limits without risk of summary reproof. 
Down even to a few months before the 
oiitliretik (d" the fatal war in which Na- 
poleon III. lost his crown it may be 
said that both branches of the Imperial 
— for it certainly w:is not a national — 
Legislature, were in c<implete servitude. 
A glance at theii- composition will 
serve fully to illustrate this fact. 

The Senate of the Second Empire was 
not oiilv the creation, but the creature, 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



149 



of the Emperor. It was reestablished 
after the coup d'£tat \n is.jl, very much 
upou the model of the Senate of the 
First Empire, which drew its breath of 
life from Napoleon I., and which pos- 
sessed the most formidable powers, such 
as the accusation of the ministers, and 
the right to sit in judgment upon them, 
as well as the suspension of all the ordi- 
nary rules of criminal procedure ; so tliat 
the Emperor could consummate any in- 
justice which might enter into his head. 
Napoleon III.'s Senate, which was 
sanctioned by the constitution of 18.32, 
comprised within its ranks as senatoi's, 
by right of their otlice, tlie cardinals, 
marshals, admirals, the members of the 
Imperial family, and in addition to these 
about one hundred and fifty senators 
named by the Chief of the State. 

It was not until Aiiril of 1870 that the 
Emperor, beginning to understand the 
inunensity of the mistake which he had 
made in taking entirely into his too 
feeble hands the control of the destinies 
of a menaced, almost fated, country, 
decided that the number of senators 
should be increased, and that the body 
should more directly represent the feel- 
ings and wishes of the nation. Yet 
scarcely a year before this attempted 
liberal measure the Second Empire had 
conferred upon its Senate the same dan- 
gerous right which Napoleon I. had 
given to his, — Ihe right to impeach the 
ministry ; and this was done in order 
that any minister, who should be in- 
fluenced by the aggressive nature of th6 
popular demands for constitutional re- 
form and for a return to liberty, miglit 
be pounced upon and ingloriously ex- 
pelled from office. 

The Emperor paid his senators well. 
He gave them each 30,000 francs per 
year, and he felt that their important 
service was cheaply paid. Their main 



duty was to watch the Lower House, and 
to see that it never, by any sudden caprice, 
undertook to change the form of govern- 
ment. 

The Senate, that is to say, the Em- 
peror through the Senate, had the only 
right of initiative in legislation. The 
principles of democracy were reversed. 
Laws did not come uj) from the Lower 
House as directly representing the public 
will, to be discussed, amended, and im- 
proved by the grave and reverend seig- 
neurs of the Senate ; but they went down 
to tins second chamber /Vo;/!. the Senate, 
with an intimation that they were the 
outgrowth of the Im|)erial will, and that 
it would not be wise to indulge in too 
many commentaries upon them. For 
over the head of the Cotpn Lkjhhitif 
always hung the penalty of dissolution. 
In short, the Lower House was merely 
tolerated, while the Upper was maintained 
as the rigid sentinel to watch over the 
safety of the Empire, as the archers of 
old watched in the corridors of the 
palaces where the kings took their re- 
l)Ose. 

The Coiysi LegishUif, by the constitu- 
tion of 1852, became a feeble copy of its 
l)rototype at the lieginning of the century. 
The whole electoral body was divided up 
into districts containing thirty thousand 
voters each ; and each one of these dis- 
tricts sent a deputy to the C'orjjs Ligis- 
httif. The members were elected by 
universal suffrage for a term of six 
years. Their i)rivileges were confined 
to discussing and voting upon the laws 
and the taxation of the Empire. The}' 
could not even introduce an amendment 
into the laws which had been proposed 
to them without the consent of the 
Council of State, which was another 
creature of the Empire. It was felt 
necessary in the constitution of 1852 to 
apologize to the world for this manner of 



150 



ECRorE IX sroii.v and calm. 



slmttiug the mouths of the rei>resenta- 
tivos of the people, :iii(l a paragraph of 
that instnunent states that the Corjis 
Ligislatif may freely diseuss the hiw, 
may adopt it or reject it, but may not 
" introduce suddenly any of those amend- 
ments which so often disarrange all the 
economy <-if a system, and entirely change 
the primitive project." This sounded 
reasonable to the French people, coming 
as it did after the excesses of 1848 ; but 
in 18G() tiie nation had learned the 
terrilile significance of the slavery to 
which it had subjected itself. 

In 18G0, as a special favor, an In> 
perial decree gave the Corps Legislutif 
the right of replying by an address to 
the speech from the throne. This right 
was exercised for only six months, for 
the Emperor, who was beginning to 
dislike the freedom of the address of the 
deputies, withdrew the right and re- 
placed it ])y the right of " in+erpelia- 
tion," or demand in open parliament for 
an explanation of certain points in the 
Imperial adtlress. The *•' triliune," or 
the kind of pulpit from wliich French 
parliamentary orators had been wont to 
address their colleagues, was suppressed, 
aud deputies were obliged to sjjeak from 
their places in the hall of assembly. 
The president of the chamber was named 
directly by the Elmperor, aud was paid 
handsomely for his services, lodging in 
the palace of the Corps LA/islah'f, and 
receiving 100,000 francs yearly. The 
Emperor and his followers always made 
a vigorous effort to avoid coming into 
contact with the Corps Li'yislotif, and 
interposed l>etween it aud tiiem tiie 
President of the Council of State, or some 
other niemliers of that body. But the 
most tyrainiical of all the provisions 
which the Second P^mpire had imagined 
for placing the government in the hands 
of the irresponsible few was that by 



which the Senate could, as it were, take 
tile place of the Corpis Leijislatif'm case 
the latter were dissolved. 

The Senate of the Second Empire lived 
ingloriously, aud dispersed in the same 
fashion. It was not even considered by 
the people, wlio were abroad in their 
might on the day of the declaration 
of the Republic (September 4, 1870). 
worth while to march to the hall 
where the senators were in session, 
and to turn them out of office. " No- 
body," says one of. the members of the 
government of National Defence in his 
memoirs, " nobody even gave a thought 
to the Senate. It had held, on the 
4th of September, a session at half- 
past twelve. One of the members had 
protested with indignation against the 
proposition of impeachment made by 
M. .Jules Favre, and liuished his re- 
marks liy crying out, in a loud voice : 
' Virc rEiiip(>r(>ur ! Vive rimperatrine! 
Vive le Prince Imph-inU' All the 
senators joined in the chorus. They 
then discussed the question whether they 
should remain in permanent session, or 
should meet again at eight o'clock that 
evening. They finished by deciding that 
they should hold a session the next day, 
as usual. This was the last vote of the 
session." But, the evening before, M. 
Rouher, who considered a revolution as 
iuevitable, had asked for a battalion of 
infantry to j)rotect the Senate, and a 
general had given him a few customs 
officers as a guard. On the next day, 
when it had been resolved to hold a ses- 
sion, nothing occurred ; no senators were 
to be found. They had filtered away 
into the crowd, and disappeared to 
undergo various terms of voluntary 
exile. 

It is dirticult to judge whether Napoleon 
III. saw the gravity of the mistake which 
he had made, )>efore the great collision at 



EUROPE I\ STOR}r AXD CALM. 



Ul 



Saclowa, which brought the fonnklnhle 
Prussian uatiou to the very front of 
European powers. Whether or not he 
had learned his error, it was liis punisli- 
ment that he was obliged to go on alone, 
undertaking a task f<.ir wliieli he was in 
nowise fitted either by nature or training, 
seeing himself day by day the scorn of 
men whom he knew were competent to 
extricate him from his position, liut out- 
side the pale of whose sympatliy lie liad 
placed himself, and from whose knowl- 
edge he could ask no aid. It is the 
fashion among French Eepublicans to 
attribute all the disasters which 1)efell 
France after July of 1870 to the be- 
sotted policy of the Emperor, whicli had 
neither firmness nor shrewdness, but 
Tvhicli was cliaracterized mainly b^- 
greed. His foible was observed at an 
early date by the apostles of (lerman 
centralization, who had been puzzled 
because tlie French Emperor was not 
disposed to interfere boldly with the 
various projects which were to lead up 
to the unification of Germany. A 
clever series of mauojuvres was begun, 
with a view to discovering how far 
Napoleon was blinded by his sojourn at 
the height of power, and how far he 
could be urged, and possibly persuaded, 
into acquiescence iu events the accom- 
plishment of which neitlior a French 
Monarchy nor a French Republic would 
have permitted without a struggle. 

It happened that the King of Prussia 
found it convenient to make a journey 
to Compi^gne in the autnnui of 1801, 
and there was much talk in the corridors 
of the palace, and in the clubs and par- 
lors of Paris, of a mysterious triple alli- 
ance of tlie three Courts of the Tuilories, 
of St. Petersburg, and of Berlin. Pam- 
phleteers wrote of the great agglomer- 
ation of States which repi'esented the 
three races, the Latin, the Germanic, 



and the Shivic, to wliich corresponded 
the tlu'ee centi-es of gravitation, France, 
Prussia, and Russia ; and the journalists 
of tlie boiilerards treated elaborateh' of 
the definite establishment of the peace 
of Europe by means of the " threefold 
alliance of the universal monarchies," in 
which should be epitomized, not onl}' 
the three principal races of the European 
system, but also the three great branches 
of the Christian church. All this elabo- 
rate twaddle was imagined and planned 
by the adroit politicians of the north, 
coolly and carefully feeling their way 
among the obstacles which had so long- 
prevented the consummation of their 
purpose, and which now seemed likely 
to bo swept away because of the lack of 
foresight of a ^KOTfifw, who had taken 
into his hands the reins of government 
of a great nation w-ithout understanding 
how dangerous it was suddenly to change 
that nation's policy. 

No just-minded man, and certainly no 
American, would for an instant dream 
of blaming the northern jjoliticians for 
their scheme of unification, or of too 
closely criticising their endeavors to 
lessen and weaken the opposition of 
France to that unification. But, from 
the French point of view, the Emperor, 
because of his blindness and of his greed, 
erred unjiardonably. and brought about 
tlie crasii whicli terrified, when it came, 
even such a stout heart as that of M. 
Thiers. 

The story goes, that when the King of 
Prussia made his first visit to Compiegne, 
where his renown as a " military prince" 
— as he was laugiiingly called by the 
courtiers andfine ladies, who professed to 
consider his soldierly frostiness as eccen- 
tric and amusing — had preceded hiin, 
the Emperor ordered out for his guest's 
delectation the superb regiment of the 
'■ Guides ; " and the noted band of that 



\:r2 



EVUOPE IK STORM AXD CALM. 



regiment, a band which was celebrated 
thronghout Eui-ope, played the " C'oi'o- 
nation jMareh." The old King of Prus- 
sia ninst have thought of this iiiciilcnt 
when he put on his Imperial crown in 
the chapel of the Palace of Vu-suilUs. 
No man lint himself knows whether in 
those (lavs, nine years before the Franco- 
German war, he did not dream of the 
invasion of France ; but it is certain that 
his first act on retiu'ning to his home was 
the nomination of Count von Bismarck 
as the director of jKilitical affairs, and it 
was not long before this great man, 
whose reputation was already European, 
went to Paris to finish at the Tuileries 
the work so skilfully begun at C'oni- 
piegne by his king. 

In those days Bismarck was the friend, 
and almost the counsellor, of Napoleon 
III. He was very often at his side, and 
never failed to talk of his plan of the 
reorganization of Europe. This reor- 
ganization, it is scarcely necessary to 
say, was based upon unity of action of 
France and tk'rmanv. In compensation 
for the accomplishment of (iernuin unity 
France slionld have Liixemboui'g, latLU- 
on. and siiould annex Belgium, or should 
have her eastern frontiers rectilied, tak- 
ing in tlie great iron districts of the 
Saar, and even getting back IMayenee. 
Prussia, meantime, would annex Hano- 
ver, and would absorli all the German 
States, up 1(1 the line of the river 
Mein. 

There is no denying the fact that the 
Emperor was completely won by this 
l)Oliey of intrigue. — a policy which in 
reality contained no promise of fullil- 
ment which could be exacted, but con- 
tented itself w'ith '• glittering generali- 
ties." The Emperor struck the crowning 
blow to liis own safety and ]Hipularitv in 
France without knowing it, when he an- 
uouneed, in one of his annual speeches, 



that Prussia had declared war against 
Austria ; but that, even if Prussia should 
make eonijuests of territory, France was 
certain to have compensating concessions 
made to her. 

The first downward step in his exte- 
rior policy had been made by the Em- 
peror when he permitted the throttling 
of Denmark ; the second was taken when 
lie did not interfere in the lirief struggle 
which ended at Sadowa. There was but 
one stej) left for him to take, and that 
he took at .Sedan. 

After the victory of Prussia over the 
Austrians at Sadowa, neither the Emperor 
nor the Empress of the French had any 
further illusions. It is said that the Em- 
press, speaking one day of her son, re- 
marked " that he would never reign in 
France if Sadowa were not avenged." 
The passionate declarations of M. Thiers, 
although the Imperial iiarty professed to 
disregard them, were warnings which 
made them tiemlile. INI. liouher, as 
Minister of State, undertaking to jjlaee 
in a favorable li<jht the statements of 
the Empi.'ror In his s|iereli about Sadowa, 
emphiyecl many specious phrases, but 
could not conceal the truth. " In ques- 
tions," he said, " wliich neither affect 
the honor, the dignity, or the [iractical 
interests of our coimtry, was it not the 
duty of the Emperor's goxernnient, after 
having loudly iirochiimed its pacific 
policy, to respect and to [iractise the 
rules of a loyal and sincere neutrality?" 
To this j\I. Thiers made answer: "Ail 
that Germany demands of us is the in- 
ditference of France. She could ask 
nothing more to her ;id\"aiitage. Now 
it is this very indifferenee of whi;-h I 
have a mortal fear." 

Republicans and ^Monarchists api)ear 
agreed, in suiiimiiig up the causes of the 
country's tlisasters, that in 1860 a 
sinn)le manifestation of French sym- 



EUROrE ly STORM AXD CALM. 



153 






pathy for Austria vronkl liavo hindered 
the progress of Count voo Bisniarclv', and 
would have enabled Austria to inflict 
upon Prussia a serious humiliation. 

It does not detract from the renown 
of liismarck to show that he was aided in 
great degree in the develop- 
ment of his colossal policy by 
the weakness of the dynasty 
in France. The fate that had 
given the French nation into 
Napoleon's hands prevented 
that uation from interfering 
in the beginnings of German 
unity in 186G. A year later 
it was too late for France to 
interfere, or to insist upon 
compensation. This was am- 
ply shown at the time in 18G7 
when the French government 
had decided to bring officially 
to the notice of the Berlin 
Cabinet the convention con- 
cluded with Holland with re- 
gard to the cession of the 
Grand Duchy of Luxembourg. 
In France a party, stung by 
the knowledge of the fact that 
its country had in some meas- 
ure been forced into second 
rank by the events at Sadowa, 
had manifested a great desire 
for a war. The Emperor him- 
self saw that the time had come 
when he must satisfy popular 
opinion at home by making an 
aggressive movement towards 
Berlin. He yielded to the 
representations of the Marquis de 
Moustiers, who was at that time Min- 
ister of Foreign Affairs, and cousenteti 
that his representative in Germany 
should present a memorandum. If tiiis 
were done successfully, and Prussia 
yielded. Napoleon thought that the 
success thus won by France would 



be considered as a compensation for 
Sadowa. 

So, on the afternoon of the 1st of 
April, 1807, Count von Bismarck, who 
had been receiving the compliments of 
numerous visitors on the occasion of his 







— ^■• 










m 






'\:^ 



THE MAX OF 



DESTINY ON 
TERRACE. 



THE TUILERIES 



birthday, was just aliout to set out for 
his |ilace in Parliament, when the visit of 
Count Benedetti, the French ambassa- 
dor, was announced. After the usual 
salutations the ambassador declared 
that he had a despatch to communicate 
from the French Minister of Foreign 
Affairs. 



154 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



Count von Bismarck was somewhat 
startled. He at once divined tlie tenor 
of the despatch, as the Luxeml)()urg 
affair was then in full progress, and 
for a moment he probably feared that 
Napoleon iiad ceased to be a dupe of 
tiie polic}' of i)romises. In short, he 
felt that peace or war hung upon a 
single thread. 

His plan of action was instantly re- 
solved upon. He knew that Bene- 
detti himself was anxious to avoid an 
outlireak of hostilities between France 
and Germany, and he still had a hope 
that Najwleon HI. was not personally 
anxious for war, but, as was really the 
case, had yielded to the representations 
of the angry national party. So when 
Benedetti tried to take from his pocket 
the despatch. Count von Bismarck arose 
and said that he could not at that 
moment receive the ambassador politi- 
cally, as he was obliged to go at once 
to Parliament. He invited the ambas- 
sador to accompany him, and continue 
the conversation as they went along. 
As they were going through the garden in 
front of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs 
Benedetti again tried to communicate 
his despatch. Count von Bismarck did 
not reply directly, but as the3' wended 
their wa^- through the alleys of the 
gardens, lie presently said : — 

"■ I am going into Parliament, and I 
expect T shall there encounter an ' in- 
terpellation ' on the question which is 
just now so much agitated in the news- 
papers, — the sale of the Grand Duchy 
of Luxembourg." 

" Yes, I know," said Benedetti, " and 
it is just for that reason that the im- 
mediate communication of my despatch 
seems to me urgent." 

"Very well," said Bismarck, "but 
I must first conununieate to you the 
nature of the answer that I am going 



fi) make to the interpellation." As 
he said this he pushed away for the 
second time the despatch which the 
French Envoy tendered him. " I shall 
sa}' that the government ignores the 
state of the question, and that for that 
reason I cannot pronounce pul)licly 
uiKjn its intentions. 1 shall add that 
I have the assurance that no power 
will interfere with the incontestable 
rights of the German countries, and 
that the government hopes to make its 
rights respected in a peaceful manner. 
That is what I shall say, because it is 
the truth, and because that declaration 
will enable me to undertake negotia- 
titins amicably, and perhaps to arrive at 
an understanding. But I could not 
give such a response if I knew that 
the convention for the sale of the 
Grand Duchy had been concluded. If 
I learned of this sale otlicially I should 
have to say to the Reichstag : ' Yes, 
sucii a sale has taken place ; but never 
v:ill Pnisski nor her German a/lies per- 
init tlte accomplishment of this convention 
anil the cession of this German territori/.' 
You can see," added Count von Bis- 
marck, very innocently, and quickening 
iiis pace, "that after such a declara- 
tion a grave conflict would be sure to 
arise between France and ourselves. 
This conflict, taking into account the 
impressionable nature of your jjcople, 
would finish in a rupture, which I 
shoidd regret as much as you would." 
"In fact," said Benedetti, pausing 
and looking troubled, " a war would be 
inevitable after such a declaration." 

At this }ioint in the conversation the 
two diplomats left the garden and 
entered tiie street. " Well, " said Count 
von Bismarck to Benedetti, "we must 
separate here, and I must now ask you, 
' Have you or have you not a despatch 
to hand me? 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



loo 



Benedetti bit bis li|;s aud reflected a 
few seconds. " No," be said. He put 
tiie despatch back into his pocket, aud 
took leave of Bismarck, who went ou to 
Parliament, aud responded to the iuter- 
pellatiou exactly as he told the French 
ambassador he should do. 

The result was that the Imperial Party 
in France presently found tliat it had 
been severely snubbed. The question of 
the Duchy of Luxembourg was submitted 
to the Conference of London, which de- 



clared the neutrality of the Grand Duchy, 
aud decreed tiie demolition of its fortress. 
The policy of compensation, on which 
Napoleon had based so many hopes, had 
ended in a check to the power of France. 
The enemies of the country which Na- 
poleon had undertaken to govern alone 
had discovered the joints in his armor, 
the weak spot in his system of govern- 
ment, and no longer treated him as 
serious. 



15(5 



EUROrE jy STORM AXD CALM. 



CHArTER SIXTEEN. 

Prtivost-Parailol and his Fatal Error.- — A Journalist who A'icli-lcd to the Seductions of the Empire. — 
Tlie Work which he had Done Against Imperialism. — Danger of Riots in 1870 . — Tlie Execution of 
Troppmauu. — An Experience of the Secret Police. — Gustave Flourens. — The Arrest of Koche- 
fort. — Flourens and IIis Insurrection. 



" TTTHOM the gods would destroy," 
' V saj'S an ancient proverb, " they 
first make mad." After the fatal step 
which awakened the French Emperor 
to the folly of his attempted policy of 
"territorial compensation" and greed, 
he entered upon a course of reckless 
adventure, now making promises of 
reform with such earnestness as to 
create new dupes, who in a few short 
months were bitterly to regret their 
mistake ; now contradicting all that he 
had promised by violent measures of 
repression, worthy of the first days of 
his Imperial career. 

The mention of his dupes calls to 
mind the pathetic close of the life 
of M. Prevost-Paradol, who accepted 
oflfice at the hands of Napoleon III., 
and who had scarcely installed him- 
self in his position as French minister 
at Washington before his eyes were 
opened to the terrible nature of his 
error, and. his generous spirit torn 
with anguish at the thought that he 
had unwittingly associated himself with 
those who were the betrayers of his 
country's honor and the destroyers of 
her peace, he ended his life with his 
own hands. Napoleon III.'s motives 
for sending M. Prevost-Paradol to the 
United States were l\v no means un- 
selfish. They formed a phase of the 
apologetic side of the Emperor's course 
during the last year of iiis reign. I was 
told, in 1870, that M. Prt^'vost-Paradol, 



who h.ad heard that his distinguished 
talents were to be rewarded by some 
gift by the Imperial hand at the Tuile- 
ries, was advised by an old American 
resident in Paris to ask for the post at 
Washington, and to accept nothing else. 
Whether or not this were the origin 
of the appointment, the Emperor was 
enchanted in wiiming over to his side, 
even in outward seeming, one of the 
journalists who had been so stern and 
powerful an opponent of the Second 
Em[)ire. M. Prt'vost-Paradol had a 
fine record, to which a di|ilomatie ap- 
pointment under the .Second Empire 
was rather a halting conclusion. He 
was one of those Ijrillianl pupils of 
that famous Normal .School from which 
came also Taine, About, and other 
Frenchmen of this generation, who have 
won and who worthily wear laurels. 
Academician at tliirty-five ; director 
of one of the most powerful and in- 
fluential of French Liberal journals, 
he was a notable force for good dur- 
ing all the arid perioil after the covp 
d'Etat. Ho wrote constantly and ably 
in behalf of lilierty of the press, of 
universal suffrage, and of social reform. 
He was, like so many French scholars, 
a little afraid of immediate contact 
with professional politicians and striv- 
ing radicals in the arena of universal 
suffrage ; and the adherents of the 
Empire were fond of saying that he was 
devoted to the cause of the Orleans 



EUROPE IX STOmr AXI) CALM. 



157 



priuccs. That lie hud inurh sympathy 
for those gentlemen there is little doubt, 
but, had he lived, it is probable that he 
would have rallied, like 'SV. Thiers, to 
the Repuljlic, and would have been a 
noble worker in the cau.se of liberty. 

After he had accepted office at the 
hands of Najjoleon III. he wrote a note 
to the Orleans princes, which was in 
some sense an excuse for associating 
himself with the reigning powers. '• I 
am tired," lie said, " even disgusted w itli 
the press and its bitter polemics ; yet I 
feel that I cannot leave the political 
arena, though I am anxious to get rid 
of its battles." His final eonelusioii was 
that he could find comfort and strength 
for future work in the tem|)orary accept- 
ance of a diplomatic position. 

I met M. Prt'vost-Paradol for the first 
time shortly before his deitarture for the 
United States. He was tlie only Freneli- 
nian at a large jiarty in which there were 
a dozen American politicians, all of 
whom went away with the idea that the 
new French minister was a remarkable 
man. Small in stature, with a face 
somewhat Jewish in type, he was not 
im[)ressive when silent, but he was mag- 
netic and inspiring in conversation, and 
became at once the central figure of the 
xnJon. He had the fascinating quality 
of making the person to whom he was 
speaking believe that he was es[iecially 
charmed by liiiu or her, and he was an 
excellent listener. His English was al- 
most faultless, although he spoke rapidly 
and nervously. After he lectured in 
Edinburgh the English papers weie 
enthusiastic in their praise of his lin- 
guistic acConii)lrshments. He had' al- 
ways been a close student of English 
literature, had written essays on the 
Elizabethan period, and in his " Pages 
of Contemporary History " he has left 
many wise and just observations upon 



the great events and lessons of the 
American civil war. These "Pages" 
are sprightly volumes, made u[i of letters 
contributed to the old Snudnii Con ri<>r of 
Paris, — a lively journal, sui)i)ressed, in 
18G5, on the ground that it had insulted 
the Eini)eror, but in reality liecause its 
politics were in all respects too liberal. 

What M. PriI'vost-Paradol had done 
when he was director of the old and 
famous Journal des Dvhats he did again, 
with all the strength of his matured in- 
tellect, in the Sitnday Courier. He wrote 
in a plain matter-of-fact style, in which 
there was yet a curious savor of !Mon- 
taigne. and which was saturated with 
wit. Now and then a doclriiie or an 
individual was quickly stabbed and liru- 
tally rtuug aside, but the usual method of 
M. Paradol seemed to be worrying the 
life out of his enemies by the pricking 
of a million tiny blades. In the article 
which caused the suppression of the 
SniKkui Courier he compared France 
to a fine lady of the Court, who might 
choose her lover among the noblest and 
richest in the land, but who chose ignobly 
to fly with tlie stable-man. 

The contemptuous nature of this com- 
parison was quickly reported at the 
Tuilei'ies, and ]\I. Paradol went into re- 
tirement until his work, called " New 
France," was published, in 1868. In 
that book he urged upon the country 
the necessity of iiarliamentarv govern- 
ment, with the greatest possible lilierty, 
and made an earnest appeal for the re- 
establishment of justice in the courts of 
the land. Then the wave of circumstance 
carried him into the Corpx Let/i.il<itif; 
and then came the disastrous mistake 
which cost him his life. 

He had been one of the first to i>oint 
out the fallacy of the Mexican expedition 
and to prophesy its failure. He was de- 
lighted with the opportunity of visiting 



ir>x 



EVROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



Aiiierica, and told luc that he iiituiulod 
to visit all the inii)ortaut centres, and to 
study Republieanism where it was ]irae- 
tised without hindrance. IJut the crash 
came, and carried down the innocent 
with the guilty, and France lost a thinker 
an<l :i writer whom she could ill simre. 
As he left the shores of his native land 
the echoes of the reproaches of his former 
comrades rang in his eai's, and when he 
readied Washington, and found that 
society welcomed him but coldly, tiiink- 
ing him a renegade, he was struck to the 
heart. The declaration of vv'ar against 
Germany completcil his humiliation, and 
so maddened him that he shot himself in 
the breast, in his own apartment, shortly 
after returning from a public recejition. 
He was sincerely mourned by the Lib- 
erals in Paris, and liy tliose who liad 
been most bitter in their attacks upon 
him for yielding even in appearance to 
the seductions of the Empire. 

Ardent and enthusiastic sciiolars and 
men of letters, like M. Pr6vost-Paradol 
and like M. Flourcns, — an episode in 
whose tragic history may be related 
here, — made the Imperial party so un- 
comfortable that it fell into a subtle 
distrust, and from the time of Victor 
Noir's funeral down to tiie declaration 
t)f war there was scarcely a day when 
troops were not to be seen in some quar- 
ter of tlie caiiital, grimly awaiting tlie 
outbreak of a revolt. In January, Feb- 
ruary, and Blarch, of 1870, after the 
pulse "f the great city was still, late at 
night, long lines of trooijs moved quieth' 
tiu'ough the main avenues, and took up 
their station in tlie popular ((uartcrs, 
where the woi-king-meii were becoming 
more and more ripe for insurrection. 
W'lu'ii daylight came these long lines of 
men had ilisappeaied. They came and 
went almost as silently as [ihantoms, 
and the mass of the population knew 



nothing about their promenades in the 
dark. On the great scjuare of the Chfi- 
teau d'Eau, which to-d.ay is known as 
the Place de la R^publique, a troop of 
cavalry made its appearance at sunset, 
and paraded hither and yon, breaking 
u]) any crowds which gathered at the 
entrance of the square, or which seemed 
disjiosed to move towards the sections 
of Ijclleville and La \'ill(tte, where the 
plehs was beginning to roar. The cav- 
alry fre(iuently made a sudden raid u]ion 
the spectators, and those who were 
caught within the circle of horsemen 
were marched off to prison without any 
opportunity to explain themselves until 
the next day. Amusing adventures of 
this kind, tempered by no little discom- 
fort, occurred now and then to liotli 
ladies and gentlemen from beyond the 
seas, who were anxious to learn how 
Nai)oleon kept the wicked Parisians in 
order. Once, in February of 1870, I 
saw a veritable stampede, hundreds of 
men. women, and children rushing fran- 
tically under the awnir.g of a cii'/l', and 
crashing into the great plate-glass win- 
dows, cutting and bruising themselves, 
in their wild fear of a cavalry ciiarge, 
which was conducted with more than 
usual vigor. Peoiile tolerated these 
things because the press could not report 
them ; or, if by chance it dared to print 
accounts of them, it could not comment 
upon them so as to awaken public opin- 
ion, and to arouse the masses to a full 
understanding of their degrading posi- 
tion. 

In those days, too, it was interesting 
to journey into Belleville and La Villctte, 
taking good care to be furnished witli 
papers of identification, and to attend 
the meetings held in gai'rets, in the lofts 
(if manufactories, or sometiincs in the 
cellars of cheap restaurants. The Em- 
pire objected in toto to the public meet- 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



If)!) 



iug. It recosnized in it the force which 
could overthrow the whole Imperial 
structure. So wlieu tlie people began to 
clamor menacingly for the right to as- 
semble they were told that they could 
come together only in the most incon- 
venient and out-of-the-way places. On 
one occasion I attended a ri'iiniuii, as it 
was called, in the garret of a huge ware- 
house at La Villette. At the door of 
the building about fifty serrjentx de viUe, 
accompanied by their usual complement 
of moiichurds, or private detectives, 
were compactly massetl together ; and 
no person entered w.ithout being very 
carefully inspected. Climbing some 
dirty and rickety stairs I came at last 
to the place of meeting, which was dimly 
lighted by wax candles, in lanterns 
hung from great beams, or placed on 
rude wooden boxes. Here, seated on 
benches, or squatted on the floor, or 
hanging like monkeys fiom the beams, 
were some two thousand workmen and 
street Arabs. In what might have been 
called the orchestra stalls, or the seats 
nearest the platform, there were a 
few intelligent, middle-aged artisans, 
accompanied by their wives and daugh- 
ters. On the platform sat Rochefort, 
with several resolute workmen, and one 
or two of his fellow-deputies grouped 
about him. At a little distance was 
seated the police commissioner, the 
representative of the central authoi'ity, 
and here and there, at the platform's 
side, appeared the three-cornered hats 
of the police. Outside could be heard 
the murmur of angry voices and the fa- 
miliar admonition of the Imperial police : 
" Circulez, Messieurs, circidez, s'il I'oiis 
plait ! " 

The speeches were bold enough, and 
speakers like Rochefort and the other 
deputies were direct and telling in their 
attacks upon the government. But the 



workmen were usually very illogical and 
ridiculous in their vaporings. When the 
leading speakers of the evening Iiecarae 
too violent, in the estimation of the 
wortliy commissioner of police, that 
functionary pounded on the talile, and 
invited the orator to lie more careful. 
At such meetings, when the orator did 
not profit bj' this invitation, and the 
functionary was compelled to rejjeat it, 
the proceedings could be summarily ter- 
minated, and the police could exi^el the 
.audience from the Iniilding. Once, at a 
meeting in Belleville, Rochefort began a 
brief, but very carefully [irepared, speech, 
ending his first sentence with the word 
"Republican." The commissioner of 
police immediately admonished him ; but 
it happened that Rochefort had written 
out his speech, and, being in those days 
unused to extempore speaking, he was 
compelled to read on, and soon came to 
the word " Republican" again. Where- 
upon the admonition was repeated, and 
the commissioner said, " AVhy should 
j'ou compel me to break up your meet- 
ing? " This made Rochefort angry, and 
also made him eloquent. He turned 
upon the official and indulged in a 
lirief |ihilippic upon the tyranny of the 
I^mpire, liringing in with much skill 
the forbidden word in such a variety of 
forms and fashions that the police-officer 
at once declared the meeting adjourned 
sine die and left the hall. 

If under these circumstances speakers 
or audience had ventured to remain, thus 
defying the central authority, they would 
all have been subjected to criminal prose- 
cution, and a goodl}- number of them 
would have been imprisoned. 

The Empire feared for its safety even 
when crowds were brought tf)gether on 
such occasions as the execution of 
Troinimann. Those who went ui) to 
tile gloomj- s<|uare in front of the prison 



1(]0 



EVnol'K IX STORM AXD CALM. 



of La Roquetle, on that cUiiiip wiiitiT 
iiiylit in ISTU whou the CL'lebnileil 
criminnl lost his liead, will iiuver forget 
the elaborate preeautions whieh the 
authorities had taken for the suppres- 
sion of any riot that might occur. The 
sinister Trop[inKUin will lie reniemliereil 
ns tile man wlio slew a woman and her 
(ive cliildreu in a field in the neighbor- 
hood of Paris, and who had the pro- 
digious couiage to bury them carefully 
in that field, and then to plan and 
carry very far towards comi)lete suc- 
cess a scheme for escaping from the 
country t(.) the United States. 'I'his 
five-fold assassination had so horrilied 
the people of Paris that they cried out 
universally for the i)ublic execution of 
this malefactor, and it would have been 
more dangerous to have refused them 
the satisfaction of waiting in rows, from 
midnight till dawn, around the scallbld 
of ex[iiation, than to run tlie risk of dis- 
persing them in case they started in 
procession for tlie Tuileries after the 
execution. 

.So persistent were the rumors that the 
insurrection would break out that night 
that, in comiianj' with four or live other 
Americans, I went up to the [irison of 
La Roqnette, arriving there just as the 
clocks were sti-iking midnight. One of 
the gentlemen in the party had procured 
from a functionary, with whom he was 
acquainted, a card, which would, he was 
assured, admit himself and friends inside 
the hollow square formed by the cavalry 
and the infantry, which kept the howling 
and surging mob, constantly iiicreasing 
in immbers, at a reasonable distance 
from the scalfold. 

We had no sooner reached the outer 
line of this strange collection of hu- 
manity tlnni we had a singular and 
striking illustration of the wonderful 
organization of the French secret police. 



My companion had lieen better served 
than he snjjposed. He had, as we after- 
wards learned, lieen given a document 
wliicli entitled him to special favor from 
the mysterious and disguised agents of 
the Empire, who were always movirig to 
and fro in crowds. lie handed the little 
[japer to the first uniformed policeman 
whom we encountered. This personage 
looked at it and was puzzled ; fait it was 
instantly taken out of his hand in 
peremptory fashion by a red-nosed party, 
in a faded blue lilouse and a dilapidated 
silk hat. JMuch to our astonishment 
this man, whom we expected to see 
taken into custody by the [)oliceu]an, 
read the card, said, in a low voice, 
'■ Moiitiin," returned ns the " safe- 
conduct," and, with a little friendly ad- 
vice as to watching our [lOckets, pushed 
us on towards the inner circle. We had 
not gone twenty steps further before 
another seedy-looking man jostled 
against ns, repeated the word '• Jfoi/ton," 
and also the wholesome advice as to 
liockets. He went with us a few steps, 
when a consumptive individual, in white 
cotton Ijlouse and trousers, took up the 
magic word, which he seemed boimd to 
repeat when he saw the card, still held b}' 
my friend where it could be seen ; and we 
began to understand that we were being 
passed from agent to agent, each new 
helper being the obedient slave of our 
talisman. Hut candor conqiels me to 
state, that just as we were aliout to get 
into the scpiare there was a great tumult 
in the outer lines of the mob, the cavalry 
turned about and prepared for a charge, 
and our consumptive friend in white 
advised us to beat a retreat, and to take 
refuge in the upiier story of some wine- 
shop. 

We took his advice, and soon found 
c)urselves the occu|iants of a little room, 
from which, two or three hours later, as 



EUROPE /y STORM A\D CALM. 



161 




POLICE BREAKING UP A KEPUBLICAN MEETIXU. 



the dull gray of morning slowlv oanie, drtnls of the waiting men looked like 

we could discern the sinister form of the criminals of the worst sort. The women 

guillotine and the upturned, livid, dis- were loud-mouthed, and many of them 

torted, ugly faces of the thousands of indecent in their language ; and when a 

men and women who longed to see new detachnieut oC troops arrived it was 

'Troppmann die. In truth it was a hailed with tlireats and shouts of deri- 

dreadful and repulsive spectacle. IIuu- siou. 



I(i2 



EUROVE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



It was tbcu the tradition tliat execu- 
tions slioukl take place in France just at 
the dawn, as if society were ashamed of 
the veugeauce which it took, and pi'c- 
ferred to have it before the resjiectaljle 
world were fairly awake and at its daily 
tasks and duties. The dawn was faint, 
and from our point of vantage we could 
hut dimh' discern the wretched murderer 
as he was liroun-ht out from the great 
central door of the prison, with the priest 
holding the crucifix at his side, and with 
an attemlant train of jihysicians, drama- 
tists, anil journalists, who wished to 
make a " study from natin-c," in the 
rear. Tiie assassin, as he set his foot 
on the last stiip of the scaffold, was met 
and taken possession of by the execu- 
tioner and his aids, and of the rest we 
could see nothing save a shadowy 
struggle, which seemed to last for a 
lM>rriMe time, tint which really was over 
in half a minute. We heai'd the dull 
thud of the knife. As it descended a 
yell of mingled triumph and execration 
went u)! from the crowd. The little 
troo|is of cavalry licgan to disperse the 
masses of pale and half-famished spec- 
tators. A black wagon, escorted liy 
ifi'iiijarmci^ was driven nqjidly up to the 
rear of the scaffold. A I'ongh wocjden 
box was placed in it, and then the 
wagon anil its escort set out at full trot 
for the >' cemetery of the conilenmed.'' 

We remained in our perch in the wine- 
shoji until most of the people had left 
the square, and llien we went d"WU to 
view the scatYold, in I'ront of whii'h we 
found our consuuiptivi" fririid. in the 
white garmeuls, engaged in loiivi'isation 
with an odd-looking Herculean man, 
dressed in black clothes, witii a shiny 
black hat surmounting his rugged head. 

" Did he carry himself well?" said the 
police-olHcer to this gigantic personage. 

"At first," was the answer; "but 



when ho was placed on the plank he 
tried to bite. Then it was soon over ; " 
and the robust man drew a cigarette 
from his pocket, lighted it daintily with 
a wax match, and turned his back upon us. 

" You have been," said our late ac- 
quaintance, turning upon us with a sin- 
ister smile, '"lucky or unlucky, as ytui 
choose to consider it ; " and, pointing to 
the large man, added, "you have just 
been face to face with the executioner." 

No riot came that night ; the titones of 
La Roijuette were stained with none but 
criniinal's blood, and I'orsome time after- 
wardstlie atmosiihereof I'aris was peace- 
ful ; but when the obedient Corps Lrijis- 
liitif had sanctioned tlie prosecution of 
Ivochefort, because of his revolutionaiv 
language, the agitation was extreme, 
and Fliiurens, whom I have meutioned, 
was the leader in a riot of very resi)ecta- 
ble pro[)iirtions. Ivochefort was arrested 
line Kcbi'uary evening, just as he was 
enteruig a hall where several thousands 
of people were waiting to hear hiui 
speak, and he was carried off to St. 
Pelagic, the prison in which jiolitical ot- 
fenders wi're locked n|i, so quietly that 
there was no attempt at rescue made. 
Rut when the audience learned that he 
had Ueen taken [ii-isoner the excitement 
knew no bounds. 

Gustave Flourens, who had l)eer. one 
of the most daiing leaders in the mani- 
festation on the day of Victor Is'oir's 
funeral, may fairly be said to have in- 
augurated the attack on the Empii'e ; for, 
no sooner had a workman cried out, 
■' Ivochefort is airested ; tiiey are going 
to assassinate him ! " tlian lie lea|ii,'d up 
fi'om his chair on to the [il.-itfoini, ami 
drew a revi liver, pointed it at the police 
commissioner's head, and said, '• You 
are my prisoner. Come with me ; we will 
do yon no iiarm. I iiroclnim the insur- 
rection." Two or three shots were fired 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



ifir, 



in the air, and Flourcns, followed l)y 
three or four hundred shouting and 
frenzied workmen, went down into the 
street, forcing the unlucky police commis- 
sioner ahead of liim by occasional sugges- 
tive hints with the barrel of his revolver. 
The people at once began to build 
barricades, and to prepare for a gen- 
eral resistance on the great boidevdnls 
which radiate from the Belleville quar- 
ter. Flourcns gave his prisoner the 
" key of the fields," as the French say, 
and told him to go and sin no more. 



Flourcns was one of those brave and 
hardy spirits, who, like Pr^vost-Para- 
dol, suit the action to the word. He was 
the son of the distinguished professor of 
natural history* at the College de France, 
and until he was thirty devoted himself 
with the greatest enthusiasm to the 
studies in which his father had won an 
European reputation. When the father 
died he desiguated tlic son as his suc- 
cessor, and a[)pealed to the Imperial 
minister to contirni iiis choice ; but ihe 
younger Flourens had, like other young 




Jjl.-rhU,-i:sU A PARISIAN" RIO'I'. 



Then he began to search the quarter for 
arms ; but liefore he succeeded in organ- 
izing a well-equipped force the police 
came in crowds, followed by a few de- 
tachments of infantry. The overturned 
ouniilinses, half-smashed cabs, and i)iles 
of puving-stoues, wore of little avail, 
and the effort of Flourens turned out 
an inglorious failure. Flourens himself 
took refuge in the iiouse of a friend, 
where he was concealed forty days, alter 
which he escaped to England, which 
country refused to give him up when he 
was asked for as culpable of participa- 
tion in the cous})iracy for assassinating 
the P^mpcror. 



men of Liberal and Reixiblican sympa- 
thies, been placed on tiie black-list of 
the Emiiirc, and he waited in \aiLi for 
the succession to iiis father's iiost. He 
even wrote directly to the Emi)eror, say- 
ing that he felt it a sacred duty to carry 
out the work which had fallen from his 
father's hands ; ijut Napoleon said he 
could not interfere in the appointments 
of his ministers. Young Flourens then 
deliberately gave u\> his scientific career, 
and went heart aud soul into the Liberal 
cause. He had to go to Belgium even 
to publish his scientific works, as they 
were too deeply tinged with Liberalism to 
be acceptable to the Empire. Then he 



KM 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



made a long tour in the Orient, took part 
in tiie Cretan insurrection in 1866, had 
many a wild adventure in Greece and 
Crete, got into a prison in Italy for a 
political escai)ade, and finally came back 
to Paris, to i)lunge into radical journal- 
ism, and at last to lea<l the insurrection 
which was so quickly suppressed. 

After Flourens had left his English 
refuge he was once more in danger. In 
Athens he was tracked by the Imperial 
police, and the French Embassj' de- 
manded his extradilion. The govern- 
ment was al)0ut to accord it when the 
peoi)le of Athens rose and insisted that 
he slK.iuld not lie given up. lie came 
back to Paris during the .Sei)temlier revo- 
lution, at a time when his countrymen 
were unduly sensitive on the suliject of 
foreign spies, and suddenly found him- 
self the inmate of a l-{e|)iiblican prison, — 
lie who had ddur s(j uuirh for Republicans 



and the Repulilic. He was not liberated 
or freed from the accusation of being a 
Prussian sp^' until after the Empire had 
been destroyed and the government of 
National Defence estalilished. 

Flourens died, as he had lived, a pas- 
sionate, but ill-advised and reckless, 
aiiostle of liberty. He was one of the 
earliest promoters of the Commune, and 
was in the riot when Paris narrowly 
escaped the declaration of the Com- 
nnniist insurrection, on the ;51st of Oc- 
tober, 1^70. Ho j)erishcd, as will be 
seen farther on, in one of the wild skir- 
mishes around Paris, in the first days of 
the great stiiiggle between Paris and 
Versailles, in 1871. 

His end was as tragic, but not as 
[litiful, as that of Pi-evost-Paiadol. He 
died fur his opinions ; not because 
he had momentarily wavered in his 
o|iinions. 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



165 



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. 

The Intrif.'iie of Marshal Prim and Bismarck. — The Events which Led to tlie Declaration of "War. — The 
Protest of JI. Thiers. — Personal Reminiscences of the Excitement in Paris. — Anecdotes of the Un- 
readiness of the .Second Empire. — General Diicrot and His Ti-onhles in Strashonrg. — The Corruption 
and Incapacity of the French Quartermaster's Department. — No Rations. — No Ammunition. 



IT wa.s the eokl wind l)l()\viiig from 
the Pyrenees which finally upset the 
card-hoiLse of the Empire. 

The French say that the caudidateship 
of the Prince Leopold von Ilohenzollern, 
a relative of the King of Prus.sia, and 
nothing more than a major in the iirst 
regiment of King William's Foot-Guards, 
for the unoccupied throne of Spain, was 
the result of an intrigue arranged by 
Marshal Prim, who had been desperately" 
angered against Napoleon III., because 
that sovereign had upset his ambitious 
projects about Mexico ; and by Bis- 
marck, '• who thus found the means of 
isolating France and surnjunding her 
with enemies, or at least discovered the 
pretext for a war the alm<.)st certain 
result of which his genius euablcd him to 
foresee." 

This is not a history, and I do not 
l)roi)Ose to dwell upon the recital, already 
l)ublishod hundreds of times, of the long 
series of negotiations which led the 
French up to the fatal declaration of 
war. The military party in France 
came to the front at once, and in thun- 
derous tones demanded that tiie Empire 
should assert its dignity-, and should put 
aside the political scheme which had 
been undertaken without the advice and 
consent of France. It is possible that 
Napoleon III. would have been glad to 
hold in check the i)assions which his 
previous vacillating policy had done so 
much to unchaiu ; for it w<mld ui)pcar 



that he had resumed his negotiations 
with Prussia in pursuit of his jiolicy of 
coinj)ensati(m and greed ; and at tile very 
moment when both countries were trem- 
bling on the verge of hostilities the 
draft of a secret treaty between France 
and Prussia was undergoing revision. 
By this treaty it seems to have been 
stipulated that Napoleon III. should 
recognize and allow all the Prussian 
acquisitions which were the outcome of 
the war with Austria ; that the King of 
Prussia, on his part, should assist France 
to acquire Luxembourg, -— the Luxem- 
bourg which Bismarck had so cleverly 
saved from the hands of the French only 
two or three years before ; that, in case 
Najwleon III. should get or conquer 
Belgium, the King of Prussia should 
give armed assistance to France against 
any other power that might declare war 
against her in such a case ; and, finally, 
that the two powers should conclude an 
offensive and defensive alliance. 

The effect of the publication of this 
document by M. Benedetti, the urdnck}' 
ambassador who was the representative 
of France in Prussia in July, 1870, was 
rather amusing. Although j'our Euro- 
pean diplomat neither disdains nor dreads 
a white lie, there was no one bold enough 
to deny outright the authenticity of the 
project of treaty ; and the partisans of 
the Emi)ire, when called upon to explain, 
said that M. Benedetti had drawn up 
the paper, but had done so :it the die- 



ii5(; 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



talioD of Count von I'.isnuirck. That 
personage contentt'd lihnst'lf witli re- 
marking tliat sonic sort of an agreement 
had to he made with France, as siie 
ineessantlv asked for eompensatiou foi- 
not interfering to prevent the phins of 
Prnssia fnmi l)eing realized. 

Here we have as good proof as we 
need that we are not falsely aceiisiiig 
the P>nn)eror of tlie Frencli of following 
the policy of compensation, and of hav- 
ing been cleverly clnped ))y the peo[)le 
with whom he wished to make a (irolit- 
able compromise. Both Bismarck and 
Benedetti said, and have always main- 
tained, that neither Napoleon nor King 
William were willing t<j sanction the 
treaty which their subordinates had 
drafted ; ))ut the fact that the th-aft 
was made liy two such responsible 
parties as the Genn;in Chancellor and 
the French E)nvoy is enough to show 
that there was Royal and Imperial in- 
tention at some time or other to put it 
into force. 

It was not until the end of the mouth 
of June, ]S7l), that the negotiations 
relative to the candidal eshi[) of I'rincc 
Leopold to the Spanish throne were 
concluded by the Spanish government. 
Count Von Bismarck, tlie King of 
Prussia, and Prinre Leojiold himself. 
Marshal Piim, in conversation with 
the French anil>ass:idor at Madi-id. 
took care to place the affair in the 
most disadvantageous light for France, 
and maliriously added that the scheme 
must lie cai'ried tlu'ough, l.iecause Sl)ain 
could nowhere else thid such an accept- 
able candidate. A (ierman on the 
throne of Spain ! Tlie very idea was 
distasteful to all parlies in France, but 
its effect upon the Imperialists was 
like that of a red cloak befcjre the eyes 
of a bull. Cautions ami experienced 
diplnniats, like M. Thiers, would lia\-e 



succeeded iu putting !Maishal I'lim, 
who was not a man of mighty mould, 
back in his place, and in securing from 
the Spanish and German governments 
the withihawal of a [ii'ojeet to whiili 
France, as a great (lower, did not feel 
like giving her consent. But from the 
moment of the proiiositiou of the can- 
didateship the Ini[ierial party seems 
to have thrown all prudence to the 
winds, and to have acted in the most 
reckless fashicm. The simile of the red 
cloak and the bull is eminently projier 
lie re. 

All the supporters of the Emjiire 
seemed, in the eyes of calm and 
imjjartial observers, to be given over 
to madness. For those who knew the 
gigantic ujilitaiy [ireparations in which 
Prussia had been engaged for so many 
years, the declaration of Kmile Ollivier, 
in the tribune of the Cin-ps Lrijisldfif. 
that he and his {■oUeagues accepted the 
great resiionsibility of a German war 
••with light hearts." caused a shudder 
of disgust. There was but one thing 
to sup|iose in extenuation of the con- 
duct of these men who tiKjk into their 
hands the lives and Ibi'tunes of a great 
nation, and that was that thej' thor- 
oughly believed in the duration of the 
old and traditional military strength 
of France: that, although they were 
sensilile of the corruption and rust 
wliieh had dime such deadly work 
under the Empire, they felt that the 
nation in arms would be victorious over 
anv oi)iioneuts, however formidable. 

But, even if they believed this, they 
were culpal)lo, for they could only have 
had such robust conlideuee in their 
country because they had persistently 
neglected the study of the progress of 
Europe in their generation. Shut into 
the petty circle of the Second Empire, 
which made the collei'tion of news and 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



1G7 



its free publication almost a eriminal 
offeuce, these responsible ministers, 
these influential statesmen, had vague 
notions of the outside woild. The 
Dnke de Gramont, in the numerous 
speeches which he made previous to 
the declaration of war, adopted the 
tone of one conscious of an overiwwer- 
ing force behind him. The Prussians 
themselves were staggered by this tre- 
mendous assumption of importance. 
A hitihly cultivated and sincere French 
official, who was in Germany at the 
outbreak of the war, has left on recoid 
his impression of the period of doubt 
through which Germany passed when 
the nation saw that war with France 
was inevitable. Was it possible that 
they had made a mistake, and that 
the old trinnii)hant French spirit would 
prove as irresistible as of old? 

M. Jules Simon, and many others of 
equal importance and influence in the 
ranks of the moderate Republicans, say 
that General Prim imagined the candi- 
daleshii) of Prince Leopold von Hohen- 
zoUern, because Najioleon III. had used 
such vigorous efforts to prevent the elec- 
tion of the Due de Montpensier to the 
throne of Spain. " Of course," says M. 
Simon, '• the Emperor of the French was 
bound liy his [josition to exclude a I5our- 
l)on from the Spanish tin-one ; but )iy his 
opposition he occasioned the Ilolienzol- 
lern intrigue, and tiius was the cause of 
all our misfortunes." 

But the grave and great accusation 
against the Second Em[)ire is that it 
made war in petulance and recklessness 
when it might have preserved |)eace, and 
that it declared war without being in any 
manner prepared to carry on a campaign. 
The man who had said at Bordeaux 
that the Empire meant peace deliberately 
cast the nation into a conflict witii a 
powerful enemy. There was not even 



any eiitliusiasm throughout the country 
in favor of a German war ; the nation, 
bowed under the Imperial yoke, blindly 
accepted the issue of the sword because 
the Empire dictated that it should do so. 
The prefects of the various departments 
had licen consulted, and their answers, 
favorable to a conflict, were published. 
But they did not reflect public o[)iniou, 
and many of the officials timidly ex- 
pressed their belief that the " agricultu- 
ral populations were in favor of i)eace." 
Garnier-Pag6s, who represented the sen- 
timent of the Repul}lican Oi)i)0sition 
in the Corps L('ijhhi1iJ\ once ciied out 
when the suliject of war was under dis- 
cussion : " It is these dynastic questions 
which are always troubling the [jeace of 
Europe. As for the nations, they only 
ask to be let alone, that they may 
respect, aid, and love each other." But 
the Duke de Gramont, with his di[)lomatic 
twaddle and his long sentences about the 
dignity of France and her duty to her 
sister nation, overwhelmed the Republi- 
can protests against the struggle which 
was to be productive of such inflnite 
suffering. 

There was one voice, however, that no 
[ilatitudes of ministers and no tlu'cats of 
Imperial disfavor could drown, and that 
was the piping voice of the valiant M. 
Thiers, so soon to be called to the helm of 
state, and so earnestly patriotic tliat he 
dared to speak out all that was in iiis 
heart. On the afternoon of a stormy de- 
bate, when all the Imperial clique was wild 
for immediate war, after lie had done 
justice with his keen satire to the auda- 
cious declarations of Emile OUivier and 
the Duke de Gramont ; and after he had 
spoken for a long time in the midst of 
insults and outcries from those who 
dreaded lest he might interrupt the 
march of events, he concluded his speech 
by saying that he was ready to vote with. 



168 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



the govoriiinent all ueeessary inraus 
■niieiiuver war should ck'lhiitvly l)e df- 
chired, but he mu«t first know tlie de- 
spatches upon which the declaration of 
war was to be founded. " The Cham- 
ber," he said, "may do as it likes. I 
can foresee what it is likely to do : liut, 
as for myself, I must decline to partici- 
pate in the declaration of a wai' whii-li 
is so little justified. "' 

The mob, whicli liad a slmit time 
before been rea<ly to march against the 
Second Empire, now- Joined f<irces with 
it, and on the night of the l.Jtli of June, 
when the s[)eech which contained the 
virtual declaration of war was known, 
crowds of half-drunken men appeared 
before the iiouse of jM. Thiers, and in- 
dulged in a hostile manifestation. But 
lie was not witliout his supi)orters, and 
iis he returned that evening fri_im tlie 
Corps J.njislalif lie was chcere<l all the 
way from tiie Place de la Concorde to the 
Rue Royale, because he had dared to tell 
the truth to the Empire, and to say that 
the dignity of the nation could lie main- 
tained without [iluugiug into war. 

M. Thiers was right in saying that 
the declaration of liostilities was scarcely 
justifialjle, for, although the French am- 
bassador had secured a comiilete diplo- 
matic victory over the Spanish and 
Prussian intriguers, the Imperial Minis- 
tr}' was not satisfied, and insisted that 
M. Benedetti should carry his demands 
still further, and right 11(1 to the danger 
point. On the JSth of July JI. Bene- 
detti therefore presented himself at 
King William's residence at Ems, where 
the old monarch was taking his usual 
midsummer repose, and begged the 
king to authorize him to convince the 
French goverument that, in case the 
Ilohenzollern jiroject should be brought 
up again, he would interpose his royal 
authorit}' to quash it. The old king 



categorically refused to do anything of 
the kind, considering tliat he had fully 
accomplished his duty. lu the after- 
noon M. Benedetti returned and de- 
manded a new audience, lint this time 
King AVilliain announced that be should 
refuse to receive him " if it were to 
resume the suliject liroached in the 
morning ; " but he sent his aide-de-camp 
to say that he should be happy to see 
M. Benedetti if he desired to make him 
a personal visit. 

M. Emile OUivier, in the session of 
the Corps Uijislatif at which war was 
declared, made a great deal out of this 
incident, in insisting that the Cierman 
press had taken it up, and placed France 
and her di[)lomatic dignity in the most 
humiliating light ; in short, that all 
Europe was laughing at them, and that 
such an affront could not be tolerated. 
Emile (Jllivier was ceitainly justified 
in feeling offended at the tone of the 
German and continental press generally 
in its Comments upon the lienedetti 
incident. 

But the sneers and the laughter were 
not for France ; they were for the baud 
of adventiu'ers who had taken posses- 
sion a score of years before, and who 
were now reaping the fruits (_)f their 
folly and luesumiition. 

iSo from the little cloud, no bigger 
than a man's hand, which aiose out oi 
General Prim's back parlor, came the 
wiiul and storm which made Europe 
treml)le to its base. Tlie apitearance of 
Paris during the days between the l.")th 
of .July and the liKli, on which date 
the declaration of war, couched in the 
most polished diplomatic language, was 
handed to I'russia, was extremely curious. 
The usual i)henomena attendant upon the 
sudden awakening of a nation to the 
knowledge that it must instantly prepare 
for defence and offence were visible in 



EUROrE IX STORM AND CALM. 



109 



camp, ill court, .lud on the street. The 
Emperor shut himself up moniing.s iu 
the Palace of iSaiut-Cloud, and was re- 
ported to be organizing the forthcoming 
cami)aign with great skill and energ}-. 
That wliieh iirst impressed me, as a 
spectator, was the paucity in number 
of the troops which came and went, and 
the confusion apparent in all the branches 
of the administration. A visit to the 
Ministry of "War was like a promenade 
into Bedlam. Here was no silent disci- 
pline. The streets of the capitol at 
night were paraded by long i)roces!sions 
of workmen, in white and blue blouses, 
and by the nuraei'ous collection of 
vagabonds who always come to the sur- 
face in abnormal tiuies ; all this i-iff- 
raff singing patriotic songs in the 
loudest voices, brawling and manifesting 
under the balconies of uuiiopular depu- 
ties, threatening the Reiniblican O[i[iosi- 
tion with dire conse(piences, because it 
hail dared to hesitate on the threshold 
of war. 

Tlie Imjierial Guard went out at night 
under the glare of torch and gas-light, 
and to the music of splendid bands, and 
this handsomely equipped corps made a 
vast impression on the populace. "To 
Berlin ! To Berlin ! " was shouted on all 
sides. Enthusiastic citizens seated under 
the cafi awnings embraced each other, 
and promised themselves the pleasure 
of visiting the great Prussian capital 
when the French armies should be there. 
Little boys shouted insults for the enemy 
be^-ond the frontier. Innocent strangers 
were hustled and accused of feeing Ger- 
mans ; and, when they denied the harsh 
impeachment, were insulted because they 
were not Germans. Popular passion was 
at high-water mark ; the Emperor was a 
great man ; he had done no wrong. He 
would lead his armies to glory. The 
Republicans were milksops, and the Prus- 



sians were mere food for French bayo- 
nets. It was an intoxicating moment. 
The masses of the Parisians fancied that 
the Empire must have at its disposition 
vast military resources ; and they slept 
as comfortably after as before the decla- 
ration of war. 

The //i?p/'i/((?/o»a7(? showed its ugly head 
in the miilst of the tumult. No doulit 
there was in many breasts the hope that 
the Comnume might then be declared, 
and the great nnmicipal insurrection 
might be successfully launched on the 
stormy waves of iio[)ular excitement. 
In the theatres the actors were called 
upon to recite patriotic poems ; and at 
the opera M. Faure was obliged to sing 
Alfred de Musset's biting and satiric 
verses against the Prussians. Here 
and there the Marxcilhiisc. so long for- 
gotten, burst out; and the Imi)erial 
Police were frightened at the energy with 
which it was sung. They dreaded the 
hynm of Roiiget de ITsle. liecause, 
though it meant a menace to the Teutonic 
enemy, there was in it also a threat for 
tyrants at home. In the Inii)erial Senate 
the declaration of war had been saluted 
with cheers, although the Senators knew 
that the Emi)ire had no ally, and could 
count on none at the outlireak of hos- 
tilities. 

The utter lack of preparation for war 
on the part of the Second Empire has 
now become historical ; but few writers 
who have traced the course of the war 
of 1870-1871 have given half the facts 
concerning it. On the 20th of July, at 
ten minutes to teu in the morning, and 
less than twenty-four hours after the 
presentation of the otiicial note declaring 
war by the representative of France at 
Berlin, the Quartermaster General at 
Metz telegraphed to the Minister of War 
in Paris: "There is in Metz neither 
sugar, nor coffee, nor rice, nor lirand}', 



170 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



nor .suit ; little jx^rk, ami siiiall hiscuit. 
(Sl-ikI in liaste a million rations by way 
of Tliion\ille." ()n the ilst of July the 
General commaniliiip; the Second Corps 
tek%rra|ihe(l to Paris: '-The D/'pot 
is sondinn' enormons ]iackaa;cs of inai)S, 
which are useless fur the inonieiit. 
We have not a sinirle map of the French 
frontier, and this is the one which we 
specially need." On the "-'1st of July 
Genei'al INIiehel teleuraphed from ISelfort 
to the Minister of War in Paris : '■ Just 
arrived at Belfort ; cannot fmd my 
brigade; cannot lind a Division Gen- 
eral; what must I do? I do not know 
wlicre my regiments are." On the 
24tli of Jul}- the General connnanding 
the Fourth Corps telegraphed : '' Fourth 
Corps has neither canteens, nor ambu- 
lances, nor baggage-wagons : Toul, 
garrison town, is completely l)aie of 
everything." On Ihe same day the 
Quartermaster of the Third Corps tele- 
graphed : "Our corps leaves IMetz to- 
morrow. I have neither hospital tenders, 
nor workmen, nor ambuhinces, caissons, 
nor ticld ovens, nor scales for weighing 
the forage. I beg Your Excellency to 
take me out of the scrape into which I 
seem to have got." 

On the 2jth the sub-quartermaster 
telcgrajihed fiom INIezicres : ■■ There is 
neither luscuit iioi- pork in the fortresses 
of Mezieres or .Sedan." On the •_'7th 
the ]\Iajor-General telegrai)lied to the 
Minister of War from Metz : ■• The de- 
tachments joining the army here con- 
tiune to arrive without cartridges and 
without camp materials ! " 

General Dnciot was Division Com- 
mander at Strasbourg, botli before and 
after Sadowa. lie made continual reports 
to the Minister of War concerning the un- 
satisfactory condition of the arsenal 
under his conunand. The ambulance 
material, as at Metz, was incomplete 



an<l insuthrient. In the Straslioui'g 
arsenal there were two thousand cannon, 
but only four hundred or hve hundred 
which were lit to serve. Tiiere were can- 
non-shot or, rather, great stone liullets, 
which dated fnjm the time of Louis 
XIV. Tliei'c were guns, but half (jf 
them were flint locks. As to the camp 
equipage, every thing was in the utmost dis- 
<irder. Even the most necessary articles 
were lacking, such as the halters for 
picketing horses. An army corps of 
thirty thonsand men needeil one luuidred 
and forty-four wagons in its train. 
Strasbourg could furnish but eighteen. 
Even in 18G9 the population of Stras- 
bourg, which had heard of the investiga- 
tions of General Ducrot, was alarmed at 
the poorness of its defence ; and the sub- 
ject was eagerly discussed. Tlie quar- 
ter-master twice wrote to the ilinister 
of War, at the request of the Stras- 
l:)ourg population, and indicated that 
something must be done to strengthen 
the town, which was in such an exposed 
situation. In the ambidance department 
there was not one-tenth of the material 
which would be necessary in war time. 

The negligence so manifest at Stras- 
bourg was visible everywhere after the 
outbreak of the war. jNI. de Seganville, 
quartcrinaster of Marsiial MacMahon's 
army corps, was literally in despair 
because of the condition in which the 
administr.'ition left him. •• I ha\e noth- 
insi," he saiil, '' for my forage depart- 
ment or for my hospitals." 

Marshal Niel wasdeeply lamiiliated by 
the deplorable condition of the French 
army, and especially of its quarter- 
master's department. ^Marshal Xiel was 
one of the few French soldiers who had 
taken into account the change that two 
successive wars had lirought about in 
Germany, and the dread silent organ- 
ization that that country had been 



EUROPE m STORM AND CALM. 



171 



undergoing for fifty years. The reforms 
which he began in France wei'e wise ; 
and, had they been fulfilled, would liave 
placed the country upon an excellent de- 
fensive footing. In 1868 the new military 
law which had been prepared by liini was 
voted, and its execution was begun. 
By the terms of that law tiie armed force 
of France was composed of the active, 
the reserve, tiie Mobile National Guard, 
and the navy. The reserve had for its 
mission the reinforcement of the active 
arm}', the occupation of fortresses, and 
fiu'nishing garrison troops ; while the 
National Guard Mobile, as it came to be 
c:dled during the war, was to fill up 
gaps in garrisons on the national soil, 
and to form a substantial reserve. The 
principle of obligatory service, just now 
so firmly established under the Kepulilic, 
vras considerably extended by this law. 
Substitutes, however, were still allowed ; 
but bounties were suppressed. The 
duration of service in the active army 
was brought up to nine years; five under 
the flag, and four in the reserve. The 
men of this latter category were to be 
called up only in case of war, and by 
Imperial decree. The old division of 
the annual contingent into a first and 
second portion wa.s preserved. Under 
Marshal Niel's reform law the French 
army would, with the calling up of the 
contingent of 187;"), have a war effective 
of eight hundred thousand men ; and iu 
the same i>ei'iod the National Guard 
Mobile would have reached the figure of 
five hundi-ed thousand men. But death 
came to take Marshal Niel in the midst 
of his preparations for reorganization ; 
and the country was left without his 
advice and counsel iu the terrible 
moments of 1870. 

It is said that the plans of the pro- 
jected campaign in Prussia, which were 
being elaborated by the Emperor and his 



councillors, were changed three times, 
after the most hei'culean labors had 
l)een [lerformed on each plan, in order 
that the Empress's pet project of hav- 
ing General Frossard in a prominent 
post could be carried out. Marshal 
Le Boiuf continued to tell the country 
that it was ready for war, that its sol- 
diers did not lack a gaiter-button or a 
strap. But the solenni truth became 
daily more and more evident. The Em- 
pire could not put in line an effective force 
equal to more than a third of the German 
numbers. Out of four hundred and sev- 
enteen thousand soldiers of the Guard 
Mobile only one hundred thousand were 
armed and organized. Half of the giuis 
in the soldiers' hands were muzzle-load- 
ing. Although the Field Artillery had the 
material necessary for ^wc hundred bat- 
teries, there were men ami horses for 
only one hundred and fifty-four batter- 
ies. At the end of July there were but 
six hundred and twenty-four cannon, in- 
cluding the famous mitraiUenses, ready to 
enter into the campaign. Of the three 
million three hundred and fifty thousand 
guns which were on the artillery- regis- 
ters a great number were, on the open- 
ing of hostilities, underg(jing repairs. 
The arming and assembling of the Mo- 
biles in the provinces was done iu the 
most desulto)-}' and incomplete fashion. 
A French writer has drawn a curious 
picture of the departure of the lOtli 
Regiment of Cher, which left Bourges 
on the 22d of September to go up to 
Orleans, and enter immediately into a 
campaign against the magnificently 
ecjuiiiped regiments of Germans. '• Not 
only," he says, "was this regiment 
badly equipped, but most of the soldiers, 
taken suddenly from the fields and away 
from tJieir farms, were entirely unanned. 
Some few of them had guns, which had 
been brou"ht in great haste from estab- 



172 



EC ROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



lislinients at wliieli they were unilergoing 
reiKiirs." '• At the litittle of St. Qiien- 
tin," says another writer, " the battal- 
ions of a legion of M(>i.)iles were deci- 
mated liy shell and shot; hut they did 
not see a single enemy, the Prus- 
sians being carefully concealed ou the 
surrouuding woody heights, and the 
French soldiers had, for their defence, 
guns carrying only two hundred yards." 
General Ducrot arrived with his divis- 
ion at tlie outset of the campaign in a 
village and found a captain of the r//((.s- 
seurs (\ jiii'il representing the wliole 
quartermaster's department. This cap- 
tain was alone, without money, without 
em|)!()yes, without carriages, without 
w(M'knieii. witliout a, single kilogramme 
of bread or meat. The troops ate up 
their reserve rations ; then the general 
sent fV)r tlie single reju-esentative of the 
([uarti'iiiiaster. This personage con- 
tented himself with saying, in reply to 
General Ducrot's remark that his sol- 
diers liad had nothing to eat, ••Inipios- 
sible ! I iiave just been buying some 
tilings." General Ducrot, thoroughly 
angry, cried out, " My soldiers nuist 
have .•<iiiiir/ln'iiij ta i-iit. I don't care what 
you wei'e buying or going to buy ; but 
yon must forthwith pn^dnce bread antl 
meat." Two hours after the fright- 
ened iutendaut sent in thirhj-six /iitkris. 
These bakers managed to find some 
flour in the villages, and to get togetlier 
some bread. Tiieu General Ducrot 
hunted out some butchers in the regi- 
ments, got them to kill cattle taken at 
random in the neighboring stables, and 
so managed to get food for his hungry 
men. There were plenty of regiments 
which had no blankets ; hundreds upon 
hundreds of the men in the reserve had 
never taken a cliasscpot in their hands, 
or ever seen one until they were called 
under lire. There were two mitrailleuse 



liatteries at a certain point on the fron- 
tier at the lieginning i.>f tlie campaign ; 
but there was onb/ a ttiitgle officer i)i the 
irhole neirjhljorhuod who knew Jioiv tn 
lisr Ihcm. 

The catalogue of the shortcomings of 
the military dei)artnieut of the Emiiire is 
so long that I may only touch upon it 
here. After the first battles on the 
frontier I had occasion to g(j from 
Frankfort-on-the-Main to Strasbourg ou 
an excursion wiiich I made in search of 
a military pass, — an indispensable docu- 
ment in those strange days of August, 
].s7((. My companions in the comjiart- 
lueiit of the railway carriage were two 
res[iectal>le gentlemen, who looked like 
Germans; but I iiresently discovered 
that they wei'e citizens of .Strasbourg, 
and I could not help overhearing their 
conversation. One of them was reciting 
witii great animation tlu' cause which 
led, in his (j[iinioii, to the Frencli de- 
feat at Wocrth, or Reichschoffen, as the 
French call it. He laid the whole fault 
on the (piartermasters' dei)artnieuts. 
"The ollieei-s," he said, "act as if 
they were at a picnic. They i)iteh 
their tents, and the soldiers spread their 
tables with costly linen, with glass ware, 
and with innumerable liottles of wine. 
In the morning the soldier finds that he 
has no coffee to drink, and that his soup 
is not made. Where are our old generals 
who used to say : ' Li' xoldat iie jwut 
ricii fiiirc n'il ii'd pes iiiinn/i' hi saiipe ' .^ " 
— (The soldier is good for nothing until 
he has swallowed his soup.) 

The (juartermaster of the Sixth Corps 
is on record as having written: "The 
chief quartermaster has asked me for 
four hundred thousand rations of biscuit 
and for field provisions. I have not a 
single ration of biscuit nor any field jiro- 
visions." The Emperor, as soon as lie 
got to the front, was much distressed 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



173 



and, HO doubt, greatly alarmed at the 
lack of food and arms. He wrote to the 
Minister of War: •• I see that we lack 
bread and biscuit for the troops." But 
that was not all. They lacked caissons, 
canteens, means of transport, revolvers 
in the arsenals, cartridges for the iiii- 
trniUeuses, surgeons for men and horses : 
everything, in short. 

Jleautime the mauniflcence of the Im- 
perial household was l\y no means to be 
neglected, even in the lield. The fol- 
lowing plan, drawn up at the palace of 
St. Cloud, the od of Jidy, 1870, three or 
four d;\ys before the departure of the 
Emperor, by the Adjutant-General of the 
Palace, will give an idea of the maimer 
in which Napoleon III. expected to 
traverse Germany on his triumphal 
march : — 

" Maison de l'Empereur. 
" Service op the Grand Marshal. 

" Notes on the Service of MM. les A/de.'i- 

de-camp and Orderlies near the 

Emperor in the Field. 

^^ The aides-de-camp and orderlies will 
serve in alternate order, beginning by 
priority of age and rank. 

'• There must be always two tables, 
whether at a bivouac or during long 
stays, so that the Emiieror may have 



the means of inviting few or many people 
to dine, as he pleases. 

" At the talde of the Emperor will sit 
the aide-de-camp who is on duty and the 
first groom, if the Emperor orders it 
thus. The second tal)le shall be pre- 
sided over by the adjutant-general ; and 
there shall also sit 3fM. les aides-de- 
camj), the orderlies, the grooms, the 
officers attached to the aides-de-camp, 
and, if uecessaiy, the secretaries of the 
C'al.iiuet. 

'•The valets de chamhre will bivouac 
or camp in shelter tents, carried in the 
wagons of His Majesty. 

'"The baggage of the Emperor shall 
be escorted by a brigadier and six gen- 
erals of the squadron of the guard. 

"There shall be allowed, on entering 
the campaign, to 3IM. les aides-de-camp, 
designated to accompany the Emperor, 
20,000 francs, and to the orderlies, 
1 5.000 francs. The first shall have four 
saddle-horses ; and the latter thiee. 
These gentlemen can each take with 
them a valet de cluunhre." 

Then follows an interminable list of 
tlie directions as to the Imperial kitchen, 
the wardrolie, the bedding, etc., all con- 
trasting rather singularly with the sim- 
lilieily which Xa|)oleon I. often affected 
when he was on active service. 



174 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. 

Departure of the Emperor for (lie War. — Volcanic Throes EeneweJ. — Movements of the Inleniatioiiale 
— The German W'orkiu^meu's Address. — Tlie Imperial Court at lllois. — I'oreshadowin^ij of the Coiu- 
mune. — M. liothan's Kcvelations. — Bismarck and His Views of the War. — Alarm of the (ierman 
I'eople. — Fears of a Kreuch Invasion. — Emile Ollivicr's Account of the Manner in which Hostilities 
were Decideil upon. — M. Kothan antl the Duke de Cirauiunt. — The French Minister of \Var is .Sur- 
prised. — Marshal Lc lUeuf's Deceptions. 



ALTllOUCH the Kini)elur wiMit ;i\v;tY 
to the wtir witli the tiir of one who 
was aliout to coiiqiier his foes without 
dillieiilty, his heart was tilled with iiiauy 
uiisoiviiiii's, for he knew tlitit he left a 
powerful enemy hehintl him. The vol- 
canic thfoes wei'e once more clearly per- 
ce|itilile throiiL;h<.)iit the whole of France. 
The nation, which [)rofessed to lielieve 
itself upon the eve of a vast and unparal- 
leled military tritunph, w:is torn by in- 
leriiiil dissension, and w^a.s on the very 
vero-e of civil war. The repeated niani- 
festtitions against the Empire, in Febru- 
ary, ill .March, and in May, 1«70, had 
t;i\eii the mysleiioiis tiiiil audacious In- 
ternational .Society of Working-men fresh 
cour:io-e. This new society knew that it 
had oulv to show its head to be struck 
down relentlessly by the Empire, which, 
whik' it professed most lilieral sentiments 
with reoard to the workiuo-men, did noth- 
ing to ameliorate their spiritual condition. 
The strikes at the liieat metallic eshililish- 
ineiil of Creuzot, which were under the 
inimediate direction of M. Schneider, one 
of the most important members of the 
Jiii|ieii;ilist parly in Ptiris, luid been put 
down, and had ;iw;\kened discontent and 
opcai ago-ression tiinono- the workiiio--meii 
in such great iiidii>trial ciaitres as Hoii- 
baix and Amiens. In .Tune of IsTO 
thirty-eight members of the tissociatioii, 
accused of being iiicmbers of a secret 
society, which was an unptirdonable 



otfeiK'e under the Emiiire, were tried ;uid 
sentenced to various terms of imprison- 
ment. The places of those who went 
to till the prisons were rapidly taken by 
others who had sworn eternal hostility to 
the Empire, and not only to it, liutto the 
whole organization <if existing society. 
It now' appeared as if the Empire must 
take upon its slionhleis the burden of a 
gretit iiivasi(jn, for no Frenchman fancied 
for an instant that a w;ir wotiM lie any- 
thing liut an invasion of places lieyond 
the Khinc. Even the new apostles of 
the liitcriKitiiiiiith' boldlv showe<l them- 
selves, and grouped aliout them all the 
discontented ami dangerous in the ranks 
of the Radical Reiinblicans. The Iiitcr- 
imtitiituh' rather inconsistently declared 
against the w;ir, which it was not sorry 
to see begun, as it hoped that by embar- 
rtissing the Em|iire it might enable the 
workmen to carry out their purpose of 
comiilete emaiiciiiation. An tiddress was 
issued by a grouii of French workmen, 
disrlainiing all national hatred ;ind re- 
pelling the idea of the necessity for a 
hostile invasion ofa neighboring country. 
To this little griinp (if toilers came. 
;is powerful :iid, men of high social 
standing and intelligence, like il. Age- 
nor de (iasparin :ind Edgar (^)uinet. 
These eiuiiieiit thinkers held a meet- 
ing, at l)i41eAille, to protest against the 
declaration of wtir ; and as members 
of the InternatioiKil League of Peace 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



175 



might have had some influence imder a 
free government. But freedom of speech 
within the boundary of Fiance was not 
yet won ; and the furious Imperialist war 
party stigmatized as Prussians all those 
who ventured to hint that there was 
really no adequate provocation to war. 

To the address of the French work- 
men anil to the other humanitarian utter- 
ances from France there was a strong and 
manly response from beyond the Rhine. 
The International Association of Work- 
ing-nuMi in Berlin signed a letter, which 
is worthy of being copied here, as tending 
to show how easily Einopean wars could 
be prevented if it were not for the excess 
of power i^laced in the hands of the chiefs 
of the royal dynasties : — 

"To THE Working-men op France: 
We also wish peace, labor, and liberty. 
This is why we associate ourselves 
heartily to your protest. Inspired with 
ardent enthusiasm against all obstacles 
placed in the way of our peaceful devel- 
opment, and especially against the savage 
practice of war, animated only by frater- 
nal sentiments, we join hands with yon, 
and we swear to you, like men of honor, 
who do not know how to lie. that we tind 
in our hearts not the least national hatred ; 
that we are submitting merely to force, 
and enter constrained and compelled 
into the bands of soldiers whirli are 
about to spread misery and ruin through 
the peaceful fields of our countries. 

"We also, like yourselves, are men of 
combat and action ; but wo wish to com- 
bat by the pacific use of all our forces 
for the good of our kindred, for the 
lienefit of humanity. We wish to com- 
bat for liberty, equality, and fraternity ; 
to combat against the despotism of 
tyrants, who oppress sacred liberty, 
against falsehood and perfidy, from what- 
ever quarter they may come. We 
solemnly promise you that neither the 



roll of drums nor the thunder of cannon, 
nor victory, nor defeat, shall turn us 
from our work for the union of the Pro- 
letariat of all countries. We also, like 
yourselves, no longer need any frontiers, 
because we are on lioth sides of the 
Rhine. In old Europe, as in young- 
America, we have our brethren, with 
whom we .are ready to go to the deatli 
for the aim of our efforts, — the Social 
Republic. Long live peace, laboi', and 
lilierty ! " 

It is not difficult to discern in the 
frank and courageous utterance of this 
proclamation a distinct advance in the 
character of the International Society of 
Working-men from the time when, in 
18G7, it pul)lished the twaddle from which 
I have given extracts in a [jreceding 
chapter. But the golden dream of the 
enthusiastic laborers on both sides of the 
Rhine was not destined to be fulfilled. 
The Proletariat was fated to indulgi; in 
the wildest and vilest excesses in France, 
and to be led away into the most danger- 
ous follies of socialism ; while the Ger- 
mans were constrained, by the exigencies 
of national unity and the iron military 
discipline and despotism which had been 
inaugurated in their t'ountry, to put off 
their part of tlie great International Revo- 
lution and to fight tlieir brellu-en with 
all the energy that they possessed. That 
there were scores of thousands of men 
in the German army who abominated 
the war into which they were thrust, and 
who were as ripe for a socialist revo- 
lution as were the wildest members of 
the Paris Commune, there can be no jkjs- 
siblc doubt. I myself heard a Prussian 
soldier say, at Ecouen, on the day after 
the capitulation of Paris, and alluding to 
the lengthy campaign which now seemed 
drawing to a close: "I wish that the 
accursed swindle were over, and that I 
had never been drawn into it." 



170 EUROl'E [.V STORM AND CALM. 

On tlie day, too, before the declara- to answer the remarks addressed him 
tion of war was dllieiallj' notified to by tlie presiding judge, and said: " 1 
Prussia by the eonfident and jubihmt siiuijly aslc you to give the order to tlie 
war party in France, a little procession gvndannes to take nie back to my 
of prisoners was brought up to the bar prison." This unwonted insolence so 
of the High Court of Justice, convened startled the magistrate that he told the 
at ISIois, for the express i)urpose of prisoner t(j sit down and stop talk- 
stami)ing out with one vig(.)rous move- ing ; whereupon Ferr6 said : " You have 
nient the leaders of the wurking-men's the force now. That is all right. Use 
opposition to the Em|iire. 'I'he indict- it. Hut when v/e get it look out for 
ment against the majority of these men ^'ourselves. I ;im a I{e|>nblican." The 
was for iiarticipating in a conspiracy, sinister woids nf Ferre were well re- 
having for its end an attempt against the membereil during the anguish of the 
safety of the State and against the life Conuuune, for he was one of its pro- 
of the Emperor. Among the members inoters and the prominent member of its 
dl' the counsel for the defence were executive force. After liearing this last 
such distinguished Repul)licans as Em- remark the judge ordered F'erre to 
manuel Arago and Floquet. One of stand up and to l)e interrogated once 
the persons accused was Megy, who had more ; but the prisoner refused. '• Then 
been the first Frenchman in tlie later we shall compel you," said the judge, 
days of the Empire to iirolcst against " If I come here again." answered Ferre, 
the violation of his domicile by police "some one will have t(j cai'ry me." 
agents, who could bring against him no Despite this violent attitude Vvwl' was 
accusation except that he was suspected acipiitted of conspiracy, of which for 
of conspiracv. Wegy had shot and that matter he was innocent enough, 
killed a iH)li<-e .-igent who was forcing his ilegy and many others were sentenced 
way into his room, and desired to cxcul- to twenty years of hard labor each; and 
pate himself on tlie theory that individual men whose only offence had been an 
liberty must lie respected, and that the incautious participation in a secret so- 
members of the dominant jiarty must ciety were sentenced to tliree, five, ten, 
be taught that in undertaking tyrannical or fifteen years of imprisonment. But 
measures tliey take their lives in their less than two months afterwards the 
hanils. The otiier iirisoneis were men majority of them were free; for the 
who had participated in the various F^mpire had passed away like a vision 
attempts at insuirection in the siiriiig of the night, leaving the country to 
and early summer, and tlicy were no suffer fnnn tlie effects of the evil pas- 
little amazed at seeing as the principal sioiis wliich the Imperial tyranny had 
witness for the government one of the roused, and which, when they found 
men whom tliev had supposed to lie their that they could not wreak their vengeance 
firmest ally, almost a leader, and who upon the fallen tyrant, turned it upon 
was nothing but a ijolice sjiy. All the the innocent. 

prisoners were aggressive and violent in No journal in Paris, or in any jiart 

their demeanor. The Imperialist inagis- of France, ventured more than the 

trates began to realize for the first time mildest eommeiits upon this whole- 

that the ri'-ijiiitc of terror was over, sale trial and tlie savage sentences which 

Ferre, accused of conspiracy, declined ended it. And meantime the atti'iitiou 



EUROPE LV STORM AND CALM. 



177 



of the ]Hiblic was thoroughly ongrossi'il 
with the procession towards tlio Iroiitier. 
Rarely has a great war been entered 
upon with more ap|iarent gayety on both 
sides, until tlie niiseralile poverty and 
neglect of the quartermasters' de^iart- 
ments were exposed. Tlie French sol- 
diers manifested all the traditional gayety 
of the Gauls, and the Germans, on their 
part, came up to the Rhine and began 
to climb the great hills of the Palatinate 
as if they were on a pleasure excursion. 
Every day the people of Paris uere 
treated to a bombastic manifesto from 
the Imperial Ministry. Eniile Ollivier, 
in describing to a friend the manner 
in which the army of Napoleon would 
vaminisli the Prussians, says: "We 
sh:dl blow them away." The Emi)ress 
Eugenie, who had when the war was 
first declared said, "This war is my 
war, and I ninst have it." inspired the 
whole Court with her brilliant pictures 
of the approai-hing success of the Na- 
poleonic arms. But there were not 
wanting men who were serving the Ini- 
perinl cause, who had clear vision, and 
whose hearts were filled with sorrow as 
they noted the approach of the catas- 
trophe. M. Rothau, who was Consul of 
the French Empire at Hamburg at the 
outbreak of the war, has left on record 
an interesting statement of the illusions 
of liis own government, illusions which 
he tried in vain to correct, and for 
venturing to doubt which he narrowly 
esca|)ed the cliaige of lack of i>atrioti.sni. 
It is to M. Rothan that we are indebted 
for one of the clearest and most concise 
accounts of the situation in North Ger- 
many in the early days of July. He 
thinks that Prince Bismarck was for a 
time after the question of the candi- 
dateship of Prince vou HohenzoUern 
came uii, in a very dangerous position, 
and that he mia;ht easilv have been 



l)reci])itateil from its high i)laec. His 
l)oliey was the subjectof the bitterest criti- 
cism, even among his own diplomatic 
agents. " Bismarck could count," says 
M. Rothan, "neither on the assistance 
of Wurtemburg, nor that of Bavaria. If 
Prussia, during the first week of the dif- 
ficulty, from the :!d to the 11th of July, 
had raised at .Stuttgart or ^Munich the 
question oi' '■(imis f'julen's, she would have 
encoimtered a peremptory refusal. The 
neutrality of the southern kingdoms 
would have taken from the war its na- 
tional character, and would have main- 
tained the road o[ien Ik tween France and 
Austria; that would have meant one hun- 
dredand fifty thousand lesscomltatants in 
the ranks of our enemies. Bismarck had 
never lieen caught in a more desperate 
situation. It needed his cool audacit}', all 
the resources of his great mind, antl the 
goud-luck whic.'li has presided over his 
career, to get liim out of his dilliculty. 
He knew how to coniure the danger, and 
to beat us on tlif ground where we ought 
to have triinn[ilied, liy simiily keeinng 
his presence of mind. He specidated on 
our passions, on our malailrcssc, on the 
position of the F^m|)ire, on the chances 
of a revolution in France. He did not 
ignore the causes which had led the Im- 
perial Ministry to adopt such a bitter 
tone with regard to the Spanish incident. 
He knew that the Corp/i L('(/islatif was 
torn by parliamentary and dynastic in- 
trigues ; that the Extreme Right wanted 
at any price to upset the Cabinet, and 
that to carry out its purpose it had re- 
solved to give to the candidateshii) of 
Prince Ilohenzolleru the [)ro|)ortions of 
a national (juestion. He also knew of 
the iioi)es that were cherisheil at the 
Court of the French sovereign, where a 
large party flattered itself that a fortu- 
nate war would consolidate the dynasty, 
and would permit the repeal of the lil)eral 



178 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CADI. 



coueessions made liy tlie Emiieror." 
This, it must be leiiiemliered, is writ- 
ten liy a member of the Imperial Party, 
wlio tluis sets tiie seal upon tlie incom- 
petence and folly of his political asso- 
ciates. 

From his corner of ol.iservation, at 
Varzin, Count von Bismarck f(_)llowed 
all the phases ol the crisis, and carefully 
watched the pretext whicli shoulcl I)ring 
him upon the scene. " He wanted war," 
says M. Kothan, " but he did not like to 
assume the responsibility of it. He so 
carefully manceuvreil as to bestow the 
odium of the provocation u|)on us. While 
lie sent one envoy to Ems to tell the King 
of the irritation of pul:>lie opinion, and 
the indignation of the military i)arty in 
Pi'ussia, because of the King's excessive 
mildness towards France, he was acting 
with great vigor at Vienna, Florence, 
and especially at St. Petersburg. lie 
corresponded constantly with Vou Moltke, 
who was alrea<ly preparing in his custom- 
ary mystei-y and silence the mobilization 
of the German armies." 

M. Rothan points out a fact, which 
all jounialisls. and otlier observers who 
chanced to be either in Germany or in 
France at the outbreak of the war, did 
not fail to notice, and that is, that the 
Germans were very nmch alarmed at the 
idea of a French invasion, expected it, 
and made their greatest efforts with a 
view of having the first battles fought 
as far as possible from the Rhino. But 
tliev did not for an instant seem to hope 
that these first battles would be fought 
only when the German army had got past 
the French frontier. Before the rupture 
of diplomatic relations there was a rmiior 
in northern fiermanythat a French army 
corps was marching upon Luxembourg, 
and that the French avant-r/ardi/ had 
already entered the Palatinate. There 
was a universallv ex])ressed feai' that the 



Prussian army would be surprised before 
it was concentrated. 

M. Kmile Ollivier, in conversation 
with a p<jlitical friend, at the close of 
the war, trave the following account of 
the manner in which hostilities were 
decided upon. " I was sitting in my 
oflice," he said, '• occupied in drawing up 
the conciliatory declaration which we 
had agreed on in the Council of !Minis- 
ters after the withdrawal of the Prince 
von Hohenzollern from his project ; and 
I intended to read this document to the 
Chanilier. I felt glad that we had known 
how to avoid a conflict, which had been 
so imminent, and was congratulating my- 
self on our success, when the Duke de 
CJramont, very much agitated, came 
into the room. He held in his liand 
various documents, and among others the 
telegraphic despatch that Count von 
Bismarck had sent to all his agents, to 
inform him that the King, after liav- 
ing been insulted by the French am- 
bassador, had refused to receive him. 
'This,' said the Duke, 'is a blow in the 
face of France given by Prussia. I 
shall resign my portfolio sooner than 
suffer such an outrage.'" — "I," said 
IM. Ollivier, " w\as anxious for peace. I 
worked ardently for its maintenance 
without cessation. I had, in harmony 
with the Emiieror, who used the whole 
weight of his authority, striven against 
extreme measures, and here I found my- 
self constantly confronted with the 
necessity of war because of this grave 
provocation." M. Ollivier is renowned 
for his delicate artifice, and the ingenious 
manner in which bo endeavored in this 
conversation to cast back upon Prussia 
the weight of the responsibility of declar- 
ing war will not escape attention. 

Shortly after this conversation with 
the Duke de Gramont and the repro- 
duction of Bismarck's despatch in the 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



170 



papers, tlie French Council of Ministers 
was convi)ke<l in haste ; in such haste, 
in fact, that two of the ministers did 
not get their letters of convocation in 
time to be present. The Emiieror 
opened the session by saying tliat lie 
was obliged to recognize the fact that 
he was a constitutional sovereign. '-It 
is my duty," he said, "to submit to 
your wisdom and patriotism, to decide 
what course wo shall take in view of 
the incidents we have just heard about." 
On the motion of Marshal Le Bwuf 
it was decided that the reserve of 
the army should then lie called \\\). 
"When they heard this in Germany," 
writes M. Rothau, " there was tlie live- 
liest apprehension all along the line. 
No one doulited tliat our [ireparations 
were all made for the instant invasion 
of Sontliern Germany, for the immedi- 
ate occui)ation of the Grand Duchy of 
Baden, and it was expected that this 
would have a weiglity effect. The 
Germans also thought that a French 
squadron would shortly appear off 
Copenhagen, with at least thirty thou- 
sand men ready for lauding." He 
wrote at once a long despatch to the 
Duke de Gramont, giving the state 
of public opinion in Cxermany, and 
closed his letter with these significant 
words: "The newspapers say that 
Germany is now at last agreed ; that 
the Germans are all united from the 
sea to the Alps. The King will leave 
for the army as the protector of the 
Federation of the North, but he will 
come back as Emperor of Ciermany." 
The Duke de Gramont must have 
mused upon these words at frequent 
intervals a few months later. On the 
lyth of July, at seven o'clock in the 
evening, the secretary of the Senate of 
Hamburg gave M. Rothan his pass- 
ports, and he at once left the territory 



of the Seven States, to which he liad 
been accredited. •■ I left Germany," he 
said, "in arms; grave, solemn, full of 
hate for us, quite understanding tliat 
tile supreme straggle was at hand, yet 
ready for all sacrifices. At Paris I 
found only tumultuous scenes, drunken 
banils of workmen giving themselves up 
to patriotic saturnalia. It was a poignant 
contrast." He went at once to the Duke 
de Cramont and asked for an inter- 
view. "I thought," he said, ••that 
tlie government must be anxious to 
confer with its accredited .agents arriv- 
ing from CTermany. and to get at their 
latest impressions ; but 1 was mistaken. 
The P^miieror. worn down by sickness, 
and overwhelmed with cares, gave no 
audiences. I found in the waiting-rooms 
of the Tuileries only a few orderhes, 
lazy and spiritless ; they were playing 
at cards, while the sovereign, opposed 
to the war, given up to fatalism, 
yielded to the sombre presentiments 
which a few days afterwards were re- 
flected in his melancholy proclamation." 
When M. Rothau saw the Duke de 
CJramont he found him very haughty 
and disposed to be cheerful. He was 
loud in his praise of the French troops. 
He foresaw the complete crushing of 
Prussia, and drew a picture of her im- 
ploring peace after French victories. He 
said. ••We shall have more allies than 
we shall know what to do with; we 
must have our elliows free at the mo- 
ment of peace." But to another French 
diplomat he said: " You are wrong to 
suppose that we are anxious for the 
neutrality of the Southern German 
kingdoms. We do not want it. It 
would hinder our military operations. 
We must have the plains of the Palat- 
inate to develop our armies in." These 
ambassadors from the front, as they 
might be justly called, tried to point 



l.so 



Eriiopj-: IX srojn/ Axn calm. 



Oiii to the iiK'iulnis (if the ministrv 
the inu^uilk-ciit niilitun' preinii-ations 
•of Germany ami the defects of the 
P^reneh organization. '• Do you not 
see," tlioy said, •• tliat the calculations 
of oin- staffs are not based on anything 
real, and that we shall be obliged t<-> 
modify onr (ilan of campaign? \V<' shall 
have to divide our forces instead of 
contentrating them. We shall [ler- 
haps have to take to the defensive in- 
stead of develoiiing our armies on the 
plains of the Palatinate, as tiie Duke de 
firainont wishes to do." 

iNI. Hothau records with some bitterness 
that after dancing attendance n|)on one 
of the imi)ortant pei'sonages for twi.i 
days, when every houi' was as precious 
as an ordinary week, the minister ga\e 
him two minutes, and ^aid : " If you 
wi^h to continue the conversation — I 
ha\o no time to talk now — come to the 
theatre this evening, and seethe Gniiiile 
Diiclii'ssif. We can linish what you have 
to say there." M. Rothan, several days 
after war was declared, sick at heart at 
the spectacle of such negligence and 
recklessness, l.ictook himself to the Min- 
istry of War, where he found General 
Lebrun, and tried to tell him of the 
rapid advance of the German armies. 
He reminded tlie General that Prussia 
had, since the campaign in 180G ill ISo- 
hemia, changed the priuciiile of its orig- 
inal i)lan of mobilizati<^n, and would 
infallilily be ready for vigorous action in 
nine days after the declaration of wai'. 
General Lebrun was unwilling to admit 
that the Germans could possibly move 
more rapidly than the French armies. 
However, after observing the extreme 
agitation of JM. Rothan, and the empha- 
sis with which he dwult u|ion the danger, 
he said: " AVe will go and see the ]\Iiuis- 
ter of War. and you may tell him what 
you think fit." So they were admitted 



t(j the cabinet of Marshal L(; liieuf. 
'■ What impression do you bring from 
Germany''" said the ^larsluii. ••Avery 
sad one. I fear that the Imperial gov- 
ernment has lieen liadly inspired, and 
that, in provoking Prussia, it has placed 
the game of Count von Bismarck." — '■• I 
do not ask you for your remarks on the 
government's policy. I am ncjt a poli- 
tician. Kiiidl\ tell me what \ on know 
about the German army, " said the Mar- 
shal. '•I merely want to know what 
you know about the mobilization and the 
formationof thosearmies." — " Itseenied 
certain," answered M. Rothan, " two 
days ago, M'hen I left Hamburg, that (jii 
the •2."ith of .Inly all the iiil'antry. and on 
the "iTth all the cavalry reserve would 
have joined their corps; and on the '2d 
of Atigust, at the latest, the whole army 
would be concentrated. I will add. tliat 
the Minister of Prussia in Paris. IJarou 
Werther, announced to the crowd, as 1 
went through the railway station iti Han- 
over, thnt he was iu a [)osition to say 
that Germany had much the ailvance, 
and that she would suri)rise the French 
army in [jrocess of form.atiou." 

On hearing this statement, made with 
the resolute courage of one who knew 
what he was talking aboitt and fully 
ai(|)reciated its gravity', Maishal Le 
B(euf's face turned quite pale. He rose 
and .stepped back a few steps, like one 
awakening from a dream. " It was," 
said M. Rothan, in describing the inter- 
view, " as if he felt that this unexpected 
news had decided his destiny." The next 
qttestions that he asked were falter- 
ing, and denoted a profound mental dis- 
turbance. Still he said he could believe 
no such rapid moliilization of the enemy's 
forces. He had declared, before an as- 
semblage of his colleagues, that France 
had a clear advance of eight days over 
Prussia, and it would seem as if he reallv 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



181 



believed tliat the Prussi:in army would 
not be able to enter into campaign be- 
fore twenty-one days, instead of nine, 
which M. Rotlian set as the bitest date, 
and which was, in fact, all that was 
rcciuired. There were but few in the 
Imperial party who, like M. Rothan, 
refused to allow their pride to interfere 
with their reason. OUivier, Lebrun, 
Le Boeiif, the Duke de Gramout, all 
persisted to the last in disbelioviiio; in the 
constant reports of the wonderFul Prus- 
sian organization ; and the overweening 
confidence and blindness of the party ai'c 
summed up in the almost pathetic out- 
burst of the Empress when she was told 
that Napoleon was a prisoner: "You 
lie ! he is dead." 

Marshal Le Breuf was doomed to manj- 
deceptions at tiie outset of the war. 
It is told of him that on the evening 
after the battle of Saiirliruck he sent for 
one of the citizens of Metz, who was 
somewhat renowned in the country for 
his topograpliieal knowledge, and asked 
him if he knew tlio lay of the lands where 
Rhenish Bavaria touched the French fron- 
tier. The citizen answered modestly that 
he did. •' Theu I am going to confide to 
yon a great secret," said Marshal Le 
B(puf. " You will only have to keep it for 



two or three days, for by that time my 
operation will be completed. Yon must 
know, theu, that to-morrow morning I 
am going to send the Frossard corps to 
take Sarre and Sarrelouis. Then I am 
going to send SMacMalion and de Failly 
to fall upon Landau, and the jnr.ctiou 
of the two army corps will lie operated 
in the space between Landau and Sarre- 
louis. I should like to know from you 
if there is a military route practicable 
between the two military towns." 'i'he 
citizen of Metz stared at the Marshal 
of France. " Monsieur le Marechal," 
he said, " this junction is absolutely im- 
possible under the conditions whicli you 
indicate. Between Landau and Sarre- 
louis there is a regular little Switzerland, 
a mass of mountains, whirli a handful 
of men could defend against the most 
powerful army in the world." The Mar- 
shal bit his lips. " But there is a rail- 
way in that direction and a canal?" ho 
said. " There is, indeed, a railway ; but 
it passes through nine tunnels, and tin-ee 
pounds of powder could break u|i com- 
ninnieation there in tlu'ee hours." So 
INIarshal Le Ba>uf said nothing more 
al)ont his plan ; and this was the man 
who at that time held in his hands the 
destinies of the French arniv. 



1.S2 



EUROrE IN STORM AND CALM. 



CHAPTER NINETEEN. 



The Race for the Rhine. — Von Moltke's Mysterious Journeys before the AVar. — Captain Samuel's Tele- 
gram. — The German Advanee. — .Scenes alon<^ the Historic Stream. — .\t Col)leutz. — At Mayencc. 

— Tl'.e Koad to Wiesbaden. — The Crown Prince at .Spcycr. — In the Pfulz. — The Bavarian Troops. 

— Their Appearance. — The Friglit of the Inlialutants. 



IT is not wonderful th:it the Freiicli 
Minister of War turned pale, and 
stepped back as if he bad been looUiiii;- 
into his own <i:rave, when M. Kothtin 
told him, with the emphasis of eonvie- 
tion, that the Germans had the advance 
in the niobilization of their army. The 
eiirioiis and almost feroeious iiidisi>o&ition 
of the French militar}' anthorities to 
allow the correspondents of newspapers 
to accompany their troops was prompted 
l)y the tear of indiscreet exposure of 
their plan for falling; upon the roads down 
to the Khine, :ind makiuii all sjieed Ibr the 
historic stream in time to check the Ger- 
man advance. 15oth nations were for a 
few terrible, momentous days engaged 
in a race for the river, and for the roads 
and mountain [lasses opening ujjon it. 
lint while [loor equipments, lack of 
gcogiaphical knowledge. and the irrepara- 
ble and criminal poverty of the quarter- 
master's deiiartment, at every step re- 
Ittrded and crippled the French, the 
(ieriuans may be said to have been 
moved, despite themselves, resistlessly 
forwtird to the defence of their own, and 
ihe invasion of the enemy's, country by 
the operation of a machine which had 
been coin|iletel_y planned, thoroughly 
tried, and which was tdisolntely ]ierl'ect. 
In fact, the Germans, in executing their 
tremendous forward march up the rugged 
spurs ol' the mountains, and through the 
deep vales towards the French frontier, 
were but performing ;i feat which h;id 



often enough been rehearsed by all the 
directors of it, and every step of which 
was prepared with most consiniimale 
knowledge. 

As a proof of the thoroughness with 
which the German advance was arranged 
the following telegram, received :it the 
French ^Ministiy of War, from Forbach, 
on the nth of April, 18G'S, is worth 
quoting : — 

"To Tin: Minister of "W.vr : Since 
Monday I have been following General 
von Moltke, who is visiting the frontier 
of France and studying the positions. 
On Monday I came up to him at May- 
ence ; ou Tuesday he stopped at Birkeu- 
feld, and took notes on the heights near 
the itiins of the old castle. He slept 
the saiiK- dav at .Saiirljruck ; he there 
took the del'ensive position of the rail- 
way sttition and the canal. Yesterday 
he w:is at Sarrelouis, where he is still 
staving. This morning, iu spite of the 
frightful wetither, he went out in a 
carriage to visit the neighboring heights. 
I supjiose, according to what I hear, 
that he is going this evening or to-mor- 
row to Treves, and that he will go dovrn 
the Jloselle. Shall I continue to follow 
hiin up? Answer at the telegraphic 
Imreau of Forbach. 

■• Captain Samuel." 

Answer from the Ministry of War: 
" FoUiiw him." 

This was I)Ut one of the many visits 
that the venerable Vou Moltke made to 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



183 



the positions along the road into France ; 
ami in ISG'J be and his staff made a 
jjrand militarj' promenade, -without any 
eoncealment wliatever, up to the very 
gates of the Alsatia whicli they were 
destined so speedily and so easily to 
conquer. 

General Dnerot api)ears to have been 
the only man on the French side who 
studied the enemy's country witli the 
same care and minute vigilance mani- 
fested by the general staff of the Prus- 
sian army. Many a time had lie l)een 
through the Grand Duchy of Baden and 
{ill the country between the Vosges and 
the Black Forest, disguised as a peas- 
ant, now on foot, now driving a country 
wagon, examining at his leisure the con- 
struction of the forts which he per- 
haps hoi)ed one day to take. General 
Dnerot was forewarned, but he could 
not make himself heard at the Imi)erial 
Court. 

Tlie Countess de Pourtali^s, a brill- 
iant lady, descended from a Frerich 
Protestant family which had to o,iiit 
France on the revocation of the Edict of 
Nantes, and who was residing in Prussia 
shortly before the war, visited General 
Ducrot in 18G8, and said to him, with the 
greatest energy and indignation : '• Gen- 
eral, the Germans are deceiving us, and 
hope to surijrise us unarmed. In 
public they talk of peace and of their 
desii-e to live on good terms with us ; 
but when they are among themselves 
they speak witli a scornful air, and say, 
' Don't you see that events are moving 
rapidly forward, and that nothing can 
liinder the chhwiiemrnt?' They laugh at 
our government, our army, our Garde 
Mobile, our ministers, the Emperor and 
the Empress, and pretend that before 
long France will be a second Spain. 
Would you believe that the minister of 
the household of the King dared to tell 



me that before eighteen months had 
passed over our heads our Alsatia would 
be incorporated into Germany?" 

General Ducrot was so nuich impressed 
with this lady's disclosures that he 
begged her to go to Compiegne and tell 
her story ; but at the Ministry of War 
the General's revelations were looked 
upon coldly. It was too late for the 
Empire to profit by a warning. 

The mention of this Countess de 
Pourtales brings to mind a striking 
anecdote which illustrates the mutability 
of human foitinie. During the summer 
of 1873 this lady went to Cliiselhnrst, in 
England, to visit the exiled Emperor and 
Empress. AVhile she was conversing 
with them some one l)ronght to the 
Emi)eror a photograph of a beautiful 
castle in Scotland, with iiunting and fish- 
ing grounds, and everything desiralile 
for a rural retreat attached to it. The 
Empress was delighted with the picture, 
and spoke of leasing the lu'operty for the 
Prince Imperial. " What are you think- 
ing of, Eugenie?" said the Emperor; 
" they want thirty thousand francs for the 
castle ! " — " You are right," said the ex- 
Einpress, ''and I have not even a bed 
that I can call my own ! " 

When war was declared ^Marshal 
MacMahon was at Strasbourg, with what 
was known as the African army. Gen- 
eral Frossard was at Saint Avoid, with 
an army brought togetiier hastily at tlie 
camp <^f ChAlons. Marshal Bazaine 
was at iSIetz witli the army of Lyons. 
Cicneral de Failly, who was a veritalile 
hero at the battle of Solferino, and held 
out with one lirigade against three Aus- 
trian brigades, liul wlio utterly failed to 
aecomiilish anything in the combat of 
1870, was at the fortress of Bitche. 
^Marshal Canrobert was organizing the 
Sixth corps at Chfllons ; and the brave 
General Donav tlie Seventh at Belfort. 



184 ECROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 

The Imperial Guard w;is at Roulay. unik'T upposed to this rather meagre array 
General Bourluiki. of French military talent. M. Jules 
Passing rapidly in review these men Claretie, in his Ilistorv of tlic Kevolution 
who had attained the dazzling iKJsitions of of 1870-71, sa\s: "The adversaries of 
Mar-hals of France, anil their colleagues, these generals, somi' of whom were 
it is dillicult to find any one except already troubled before tliey were in 
MacMahon who was entitled to the name liattle, and who inarched to the combat 
of a competent soldier. ^tlae^SIahon, with a cumbersome train of baggage- 
Duke of Magenta, was a true warrior, wagons, carri;iges, i)anniers of wine and 
and the very first liattle in wliicii he fruit, like the generals of tlie time of 
engaged, in 1S7(). showed tliat had he Louis XV., — their atlversaries were 
had men enongli. and mm who were well those rude matlicmaticians. inflexible 
enough fed and I'lpiipped, it would have calculators, patient, yet violent, war- 
gone hard with the Gei'mans, magnifl- riors, like Count von Moltke, a cold 
cciitly managed and siiprrini- in numlicrs strategist, witli a geometer's glance, a 
as they were. lie liad lieen a soldier thinker rather than a soldier; Prince 
from his earliest youth. There was in Friedi-ieli Karl, a kind of ferocious 
his character a bit of the old Irish dasli Hlucher, a furious sabre-swinger; old 
and energy of the JlacMalions, who Steinnietz, the coni|ueror of Jlachod and 
accomp.'inied .Tames II. in exile, into Skalitz. the ancient enemy of Waterloo : 
France, and il was uianilVst in all ^lantenffel, who, in l.sCi."), had. ei'ossing 
that he did din-ing tlie campaign of the Eider and the KIbc. begun a cam- 
conquest in Algeria, and in the t'riniean paign against llanovei' allied to ^Xustria ; 
war, whei'e he had a most dangerous \'iin AVerder. hai'sh and sinister, the 
position in the grand and last attack future boiuliai'der of .Strasbourg. All 
on the JMalakoff Tower •' Here I am, these men were strong in their hate and 
and here I remain," liecaine f.-iiuous in their jealousy, strong, above all, be- 
words in I""rance. and ^MacIMahon's fame cause of the military organization uhieh 
extended far beyoiidthe boundaries of his allowed them to lauiu'h their army corps. 
own country. He was. at forty-four years forward, swift as thought : to biing tlie 
of age, a division general who had seen lighters in railway carriages on to the 
twenty-seven years of active service, battle-lield. and by the same train to 
Had the Kmpii'c had a dozen men like trans[ii)rt the wounded from the battle- 
liim it might have turned the current Held to the hospital. They M'ere strong, 
of fate for the moment. Pazaine but did I say? — but because of our feeble- 
showed the already confessed weakness ness. They brought patience, coolness, 
of his character in his conduct at ]\Ietz. principle, against fever, anxiety, and 
(b'ueral I'^nissard was ehielly noted bir disorder. Those who know that victory 
having been the Prince ImiieiiaFs pie- depends upon the quarti.'rmasti'r's de- 
ceptor. It w.as expected that he would parlment more than ujion anything else, 
get the hdtoii of a marshal at the lir-t and niion those engineers of the field of 
battle in which he partiei|iate(l ; but, as carnage who are called officers of the 
it chanced, that lirst battle was the dis- general staff, were overwhelmed with 
astrous defeat at Forbaeh. patriotic anguish when they measured. 
Let us see what an enlightened and not the courage. — France is always sui'e- 
patriotic Frenchman says of tlie Germans to have her heroes, — but the organ- 



SUROriC IX STORM AXD CALM. 



185 



izatiou ami the meehauisiii of the two 
armies." 

Never, should I live a huiiilred years, 
could I forget my im|)ressious on ar- 
riving on the Rhine while the nioliiliza- 
tion movement of the Gernuin armies 
was at its height. There can be noth- 
ing more impressive thau a nation in 
arms. The aggregation of strong, reso- 
lute, handsomely equipped men is stu- 
pefying One begins to think there 
are millions where he only sees thou- 
sands. The eye is but slowly trained 
to the appreciation of numbers. The 
uprising of the whole of Germany was 
an electric surprise to all P^urope, and 
it is not astonishing that I was over- 
whelmed by what I saw. From the 
Belgian frontier to Cohjgne I was com- 
pelled to take a military train, all civil- 
ians being declared contraband, and 
being already looked upon with suspicion 
and contempt. A man out of uniform 
in Germany was a thing to smile at. or 
to be pitiful over. If a stranger he was 
looked at askance. But no one troubled 
the observer during those few days of 
striving for the advantage. The soldiers 
were too busy with themselves, and the 
civilians were too much eng.aged in 
gazing at them, to worry foreigners. 
From Cologne I followed the wave of 
soldiery to Coblentz, where there was 
naturally a great concentration of troops, 
with a view to the guarding of the Mo- 
selle valley. Beer and wine played 
their accustomed roJv. Rigorous as is 
the Gei'man discipline on the march, 
and in the enem\ 's country, there was 
not much show of it among those tli(ni- 
sands upon thousands of lusty young 
men, who were packed as neatly as figs 
in a box into the snug railway carriages. 
At Bonn, the old university town, there 
were at least five hundred men on the 
railway platform, each one with a bottle 



of beer under each arm, and such 
scrambling as ensued among tlie si.il- 
iliers I have raix'ly .seen. 

At Remagen a few hilarious old gen- 
tlemen came with packets of sweet 
cakes, and beer-bottles innumerable, and 
as the train moved awtiy sang patri- 
otic songs in cracked voices. Here 
and there a man bade his wife and 
children good-by, and got quietly into 
the train, fitting into the place prepaied 
for him in advance. The Reserves, 
coming in from the country-side, made 
the air ring with their songs, and cheer 
after cheer was heard from the wayside 
as the train went by. 

If the hungry French soldiers on the 
other side of the frontier could have 
seen the spectacle which I saw at 
Coblentz they would have wept with 
vexati(->n. The provision magazines were 
cranmied, and long trains of forage 
wagons were coming in in the early morn- 
ing Irom the other side of the Rhine. The 
Prussian system for the transportation 
of supplies was put to a severe test here, 
and proved amply sufficient. As soon 
as the movement of, or concentration of, 
trooi)s, on the frontier began, the farm- 
ers in all the country along the line of 
march were notified that they must 
transport a certain amount of sni)plies 
to a given point. E;ich farmer owns, 
according to his circumslanees, one or 
two forage wagons, all built very uuieh 
alike, and sul]ject at any moment to the 
government call. The l>urgomastcr of a 
certain district receives notice from the 
army head-quarters tliat so many su|)- 
plies must be at a certain point at a 
given time ; and he gets them there, 
kM(jwing full Well that if he does nt)t the 
consequences will be extremely unpleas- 
ant. 

Of course the situation would have 
been greatly changed could a French 



186 



EVnnl'E IX STORM AXD CALM. 



anny of the old rcvcjlnticniarv or I!i-|iiili- 
liciui type liavf umn' nilliiii;- ami |>lunuiiig 
down the Jlosi'lle valley, liviug on iiluii- 
der, and frightening the farnieis and 
burghors into instant siihmission. Bnt 
the Gornians were j)retty well assured 
that tiierc was no danger of an extended 
laid in the direi'tiou of the IJhine. 
Cologne, at the time of my visit, was 
the head-quarters of the general eoin- 
nianding the Seventh, Kightli, and 
Eleventh corps of the Prussian army. 
This command was one of the most 
extensive in the country ; the Seventh 
corps oeen living the whole of West- 
plialia, in(.'ludii)g Dnsscldorf ; tlie iMghth 
keeping guard on both sides of the 
liliine n)) to C'oblentz, and thence to 
jNIayence on llie side nearest France; 
and the Eleventli having Hesse-Darm- 
stadt and Ilesso-Cassel in its care. The 
Eighth corps, too, guarded the whole 
section of country between C'oblentz and 
the French frontier and Luxembourg, 
extending its lines up to Treves, Saiir- 
hrucii, Sarreburg, an<l Forbaeh. C'omit- 
ing the regiments on their war footing 
this command comprised alxnit one hun- 
dred and fifty thousand men. 

As I continued my dillicult journey u|) 
the Rhine the spectacle of the military 
l)reparations became more and more 
impressive. The highw.ays were filled 
with long lines of troopers, with re- 
splendent cuirasses, and in gray and 
gold, or in shining helmets and pretty 
blue or red unifV)rms. At every railway 
station dozens of young men, almost 
boys, were waiting until ihev could be 
transferred to the variuus points where 
they were incorporated in their regi- 
ments. Nearly all were clad simply and 
carried little parcels, hurriedly made u)), 
of provisions and clothing. Now and 
then a gnjup walked in, singing a jolly 
marching song, and laughing and joking 



as if going to a wedding. The new- 
comers from a village in the back 
countiy usually nuule a round of the 
shops, to Imy a few things lacking for 
their outlit. Every second man was 
smoking a long porcelain pipe, and 
ever}' third ollieer cerlaiuh' wore spec- 
tacles. The fever of national patriot- 
ism found its vent in the singing of 
suc.'h songs as Die ]Viir/it ((/u lihein. 
There was little cheering, a good deal 
of laughter, and liberal beer. 

From Mayence I crossed tlie river and 
attempted to visit Wiesbaden, where a 
few of the annual French visitors were 
still lingering, half dis|ileas('il, half 
stunned liy the tremendous military 
energy displayed arouml Ihem; but to 
get to Wiesbaden was out of my |)ower. 
I had fallen upon abnormal times, and 
my carriage was ordered into a ditch, 
wliere I sat quite contentedly for three 
mortal hours, while a steady stream 
of the finest cavalry I had ever seen 
passed slowly by. Nearly every man 
of this grand Ijody of troops was of 
more than average height. The officers 
looked like a superior kind of school- 
masters. They were harsh in command 
and faultless in ecjnipment. Thev 
seemed as if tliev had come out of 
a line engraving, so irreproachable 
were they : white-gloved, decorated, no 
creases or wrinkles in their uniform, the 
saddle appointments of their horses all 
perfect. It seemed almost too nice for 
soldiering. The whole land was swarming 
with troops. I went back to JMayenee, 
and waited, liefore I could reach my 
hotel, while a boyish regiment went by, 
clink ! clink ! e\-ery foot striking the 
l>avement in exactly the same way, 
everv knee thrown out at the same 
identical angle. I'nder the hot sun 
down went a bov. II is comrades swung 
their feel oN'er iiim, and when the am- 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



187 



bulanco-wagon eamo ho was pirkt'd iiii 
as automatically and inathematically as 
if it were done by a machine. Click ! 
clack ! On went the ambulance-wagon 
with the sick man, but the military 
movements had suffered no check. 

The components of the Prussian sol- 
dier's uniform are veiy simple, tasteful, 
and convenient. He might make a drink- 
ing-cup out of his helmet, and carve 
meat with his spike. He wears a bluish 
tunic with red colored cuffs and lajjpels, 
and a stout pair of dark-colored trousers ; 
carries a thick blanket, a canteen, a 
cooking-can, and a well-planned knap- 
sack in undressed calfskin. His fatigue- 
cap is flat, bordered with red. He has 
an undress uniform of coarse flax cloth, 
and a pair of white trousers. His over- 
coat is long, voluminous, and does 
splendid service at night, when he biv- 
ouacs in the open air, for the German 
army has no tents. The pockets and 
folds of his clothing are so arranged 
tliat he can carry in them numberless 
little things, and he fully improves the 
opportunities. 

When he bivouacs he plants his gun 
against his bayonet, places his side arms 
hanging overthem, and cajis them with his 
helmet. I have seen t<'n thousand of these 
helmets poised thus on a long plain, 
making one slieeny mass, which from a 
distance was dazzling as a golden sea. 

()n a country road, not far from JMa\- 
ence, I saw a troop of Hussars. It was 
the most superb spectacle that I wit- 
nessed during the war. p]ach man sat 
erect and motionless as a statue, with 
one hand on the carbine laid u|)on his 
side ponunei, and each beautiful horse 
was richly trapped. The cavalry has 
the greatest wealth of dress, and the 
rather gaudy splendor of some of the 
cavalry corps has a rememlirance of the 
middle aaies in it. 



The constant saluting of superiors by 
inferiors, the bawling of the orders to 
men, .and the compactness of the pro- 
vision and baggage trains, all strike 
strangely upon the foreigner's sense. 
Here was an organization which had 
evidently been going on and on for years 
and years, until the men who composed 
it did things as if liy inherited motion ; 
and yet this wonderful meclianism had 
lieen l>nt little heard of until foiu- years 
l)efore, in l.SCG. As to the saluting, it 
is incredibly formal. I sat, one evening, 
during this German advance, in front of 
the head-quarters of Prince Augustus, of 
Wurtemberg, at Kaiserslautern, in Rhen- 
ish Bavaria, watching the common sol- 
diers, who were carrying heavy sacks of 
bread or grain, and who were oi;liged to 
pass the sacred place where the little 
potentate was sitting. Although the 
poor fellows in theii' dusty fatigne-jaekets 
wei'e bent almost doulile with tlieir loads, 
each one managed so to arrange his bur- 
den that he could carry one hand stiltly 
to his cap, until he had quite passed 
bevond the old prince. It was painful 
to see mature men stand sometimes for 
live minutes holding their hands to their 
hats, while a beardless Iioy, some aris- 
tocratic otiicer, was conversing with 
them. 

Although the Germans had sacrificed 
much to order they had yet known 
how to combine elegance with it. The 
field equipage of Prince Friedrich Karl, 
which I saw at Kaiserslautern, was 
one of tile most perfect that can be 
imagined. There was a train of six 
c-ompact light carriages, stored with all 
the requisites for the Prince and his 
staff ; and. close behind it, a field tele- 
graiih and field post service. The tele- 
graphic wagons are so arranged that a 
station can be established, and rapidly 
connected with an existing line within 



l^s 



EUR or E IX STORM AXD CALM. 



reasonnlili' (listiinec Coiiriors rddc lie- 
hind till' WMii'ons in tlic (irdi'r (if nKirrh. 
ready :it a nicmi'nt's iidtier to ji'n from 
the wammis to tlic stalf, anil liaek ai>;ain. 
incessantly. As for the- licld post all 
journalists who followi'il the ino\c'inents 
of the (iernian aiinies learned to admire 
and ri'speet the managers of that mateh- 
less institution. 

At C'arlsruhe, at Darmstadt, at Ilei- 
delliei-u;, everywhere in the pietnri'siiue 
and poetie i-eijion in which the Kiii;lish 
and American traveller loves to limber 
in the soft midsummer time, there 
was the sanii^ haste of warlike prepara- 
tion. I puslicd on to S|ieyei'. a rather 
uii'ly old town, notalile chielly foi- its 
historic cathedrid, and there found the 
Crown I'rince of Prussia, who was tli-.' 
oliject of mv seai'ch. Mere wei'e doz- 
ens of Bavarian re<;iments : iudc-c-d. all 
Bavaria seemeil to have taken ri'nth'Z- 
■I'OKn at S|ievt'r. I'liere was a lieneral 
alarm aniouL;- the inli.-iliitants. The 
French wi-re reported to li:i\c ei-ossed 
the frontier, and the ISavarians had 
been so hurriecl ti> e'ct n[i to this point 
that half-a-dozen poor fellows, in the 
square near the cathedral, weri' living 
of sunstroke, and hundreds were laid 
up with sore feet and with aching heads. 
The Bavarian Jaegers, chul in lilne 
hunting suits, and with green jilunies 
in their helmets, were quite iniposing. 
Manv of tlie [loor hoys had jiallid faces, 
and the people of Speyer said that they 
would not tight: Imt they '//'/ tiglit 
like demons at the battle of \\'oerth. 
The English gentleman who was my 
comi)anion in travel said they looked as 
if thev would like to bolt; but none of 
them bolted. 

After anight at Speyer my eompanion 
and I si'Ut polite letters to the Crown 
Prince, asking for military |iasses into 
the lield of operations : and during the 



afternoon the answer came to disa|i]ioint 
and annoy us, couchei.1 in the follow- 
ing terms : •• llis Highness regrets that 
an order this morning arrived from 
lierlin that no corresiiondents should 
be allowed to follow the field array. 
lie is the mori' sorry for this as he 
had alreailv given iirders, since the 
reception of your letter, for the ex- 
amination of yonr credentials and such 
facilities as could jiroperly be given." 

It was evident that neither German 
nor French wanted oliservers on the 
frontier before the iirst battles; but 
we ]iushed on into the Pfalz, the rug- 
ged mountain eouiitrv of Khtnish Ba- 
varia, over whicli lioth P"reuch and 
Prussian armies have moved in hostile 
arrav in past times. All through this 
countrv till' |)easunts were half fright- 
ened to death. Although thousands 
upon tliousauils of soldiers were Jjassing 
along the comitry roads, in nearly every 
antiquated <hij-f. tilled with squeaking 
ireese and crazy peasants, we found 
the bedding and crocki'ry [lackcil for 
instant transportation. From every 
liouse a Bavarian flag was hung out, 
and in some of the country mansions 
of the better sort little hospitals had 
been prepared. At Neustadt we found 
that the general r>ceuiiying the town 
had uiven orders that no ei\ilians sliould 
be admitted to the liotel ; but we were 
made exceptions bv the landlord, who 
said that he would take the risk. At 
the railwav station my English com- 
panion was collared for looking at a 
[lassing military traiTi, — what right had 
he to look at it, indeed ! — and he luckily 
escaped with a niiittercd apology. 

We sat late that night in front of the 
little hotel, struck with astonishment at 
the continual succession of troops, com- 
insi', coming, coming, in endless procession 
and seeminylv without fatigue, marching 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



1S9 



on to the fields beyond and establishing 
their bivouacs with but little noise and 
with no confusion. The surprise I felt 
tlien at the national strength displayed 
was, however, no greater than that which 
I felt on the day after the capitulation 
of the forts of Paris, when I saw come 
marching into Versailles, click ! clack ! 
with the knees thrown out at the proper 
angle, a regiment of scaly-looking boyish 
troo})s, of fresli troo|)s sent up from the 
depths of Germany, to fall in, if neces- 
sary, as readily and willingly as tiie lirst 
actives had fallen in. It may with truth 
be said that, from the beginning of the 
campaign to the end, (iermany had fresh 
troojis constantly arriving in France, 
and when the war was completely ended 
still had a few left to draw up(->n. The 
confederation of the North alone was 
ready at the beginning of the war to [Hit 
on foot three hundred and eighty Ijat- 
talions of infantry, three hundred squad- 
rons of cavalry, two hundred batteries of 
artillery, being one thousand two hundred 
pieces, thirteen battalions of engineers, 
thirteen train battalions, — in all, five 
hundred antl lifty thousand active men ; in 
addition to which it had a reserve of one 
hundred and eighty thousand men, and a 
solid laiidivc'hr numbering more tlian two 



hundred thousand. The Bavarian army 
furnished one hundred and ten thousand 
soldiers ; the AVurtemberg army, thirty- 
six thousand ; and the army of Baden, 
about the same number. All these, in 
the last days of July, when hostilities 
were just to commence, were grouped 
into thi'ee armies : the first, under the 
command of old General Steinmetz ; the 
second commanded by Prince Friedrich 
Karl : and the third by the Crown Prince 
of Prussia. Under General Steinmetz, 
and, later, under Von Manteutlel, were 
the First, Eighth, and Scn'eutii corps, 
the Seventh commanded liy the famous 
Lieutenant-General von Goeben ; under 
Prince Friedrich Karl were the Second, 
Third, Ninth, Tenth, Fourth, and Twelfth 
corps, the latter the Saxons, commanded 
l>y the Prince of Saxony, and the famous 
Guard corps commanded ))y the Prince 
of Wurtemberg ; and in the third annj', 
which fought at Weissenburg, at Woerth, 
at Sedan, and was so conspicuous in 
front of Paris during the siege, were the 
Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, Thirteenth, and 
Fourteenth cor|is. Three more formi- 
dable, better equipped, or more powerful 
armies never fell upon the frontiers of 
any unhapi>y country. 



!!»() 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



CHAPTER TWENTY. 



Tlie Spoehiclo in tlic Palatinate. — A A''isit to Laiidau. — The Saxon Troops on the March. — A Ni^'lit 
Drivi-. — Eclioes tVoni Weisseubur;Li\ — Throii;4'h tlie (ilailes to Kaiscr^laiiteru. — The Narrative til 
Strunae Adventures which there befell us. — A Military Prisuu. — Clialleu^'iuy- a Dennuciat(jr. — 
Arrested a Second Time. 



THIS eoncontratlon of troops in tho 
I'ahitiuatewas so ivniarkalilc a sjicc- 
tacK' that wu weiX' williii<i to run oix-atcr 
risks than \vf were lilcely to Ije subjeotcd 
to, for tlio i)ur])ose of wituessino- it in 
all its aspects. It ^ya.s miiscil aliroail in 
the ai'inv, all too soon for our [turposes, 
that uewspapi'r correspondents, or " writ- 
ers," as the Prussians scornfully calle<l 
them, were not ailniitted among the 
guests of the niDviiig camps ; and where- 
ever we went, therefore, we were eyed 
:ind scowled tit as presumable luerahers 
of some other profession. 

We were not slow to discover that the 
inhaliitants of the Palatinate were liy no 
means in symiiatliy with the I'russians. 
On the contrary the}' seemed to cherish 
for them an especial dislike, criticised 
them sevt'relv, and laughed ;d their pom- 
pous air, their stiff miiforms, ai'.d their 
somewhat ohjectionahle liatiit C)f combing 
tlieir hair and whiskers while they sat at 
meals. 

From Neustadt we went to Landau, 
the famous fortress-town, which the Em- 
peror Kudolph of IIa[)sburg made a free 
Imiierial city in the thirteenth century, 
and which was taken by assault and 
pillaged seven times during the Thirty 
Years' war. Landau was taken posses- 
sion of by Louis XIV. at the same time 
that ho placed his hand uijon Alsatia ; 
and he had it magnificently fortified liy 
\'auban. Pack came the Imi)erial armies 
and wrested it from Louis XIV., after 



eighty-two days of siege ; liut the fol- 
lowing year it returned once more into 
the hands of the French, yet once again 
to be taken by the hnijerials in 170-1. 
Down swept the French upon it in 171.!. 
ociaipying it a whole century, to give it 
up to Pavaria after the treatii'S of 1.S15. 

It was from Landau that one of his 
Generals wrote to Louis XIV. : " Sire, 
we have taken more flags and standards 
than Your Majesty has lost of sohliers." 

(.)n tlu> way fo Landati, in the liroiling 
sini, we had an opportunity to observe 
the conduct on the march of the young 
Saxon troops, who did not appear to 
great advantage :it the outset of the 
campaign, but who behaved wonderfully 
well when in fiont of Paris, and did 
l)lenty of rough work. Evidently the 
Saxon military shoemakers were at fault, 
for the soldiers were seated by hundreds 
in the ditches, mn'sing their feet, and 
doubtless cursing the provocative French 
most heartily. At the gates of Landau 
we met a long train of aml>ulance-wag- 
ons, carrying to a hastily improvised 
camp two or three score of sunstruck 
youths. The |)oor fellows, thiown into 
the wauons with their heavy kna|isacks 
and blankets still strapped upon thent, 
presented a pitiable appearance. With- 
in the town everything indicated that 
the mixed forces who were there assem- 
bled were on the alert, aji was eminently 
proper in the innnediate vicinity of the 
enemy. Hcsiiments came and regiments 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



VM 



went; e:iv;iUT clattered liack and fortli; 
reviews were held ; the sick were be- 
stowed in proper houses. The general 
oflicers were quite niagnifieent at the 
tahle d'Mite of the principal hotel, dinino; 
and wining freely, yet with a certain 
preoccupied air peculiar to soldiers w hen 
action is impending. 

We left Landau late at night, and 
just in time to escape the overhauling 
of an inquisitive otHcer of the day. Our 
teamster lost his way while we were 
making for Geimerslieim, and, taking 
a long detour, left us in doubt as to 
whether we were in Fiance or (ienuany, 
but with the pleasant consciousness that 
we were not far from the scene of 
battle. Night came on. so (juiet that as 
we drove over the plains we could hear 
the cows pulling the short gi-ass in the 
fields. Now and then we heard the 
tramp of hundreds of feet, and saw long 
black shadows, denoting the passage of 
a regiment. At last we came to the 
high road, and by and by to Germers- 
heim, where we were saluted by a vig- 
orous invitation to halt, and a rather 
scornful intimation to " clear out" when 
we requested admission ; the sentinel 
merely deigning to remaik that it 
was Fextung (a fortification), and that 
we could not enter after houi's. vSo we 
l)etook ourselves to the highway once 
more, passing through lUMuy antiquateil 
(lorfs, where the peasants were in a high 
state of excitement, and at tiie entrance 
of each of which little groups of cavalry- 
men sat motionless on their horses, 
wrapped in their long cloaks, not even 
looking at us as we passed. After va- 
rious other adventures, such as straying 
into the old Rhine bed, and narrowly 
escaping wreck in the darkness and in 
the sandy, water-deserted reaches, we 
decided that it would be useless to 
return to Landau or to Spej'cr that 



night, and coming, towards dawn, to a 
little group of houses, we rested there, 
ho[iiug for better luck when the sun 
should rise. 

When morning came we were startled 
l)y certain dull sounds, which came from 
the direction of France, and were some- 
what amused at the perturbation with 
which the German villagers declared that 
these sounds were the echoes of the mi- 
tiyii'IIciises, and that the French would 
soon l)e upf)n us. There was, however, 
no falling back on tlie [.art of the Ger- 
man troo[>s ; and, as we heard nothing 
further, we concluded (hat our ears had 
been deceived, and, after an hour of ex- 
ploration in the direction of France, we 
returned to ( lermci'slicim. Hence my 
Fnglish friend counselled an immediate 
journey to Kaiserslautern, from which 
jjoint one might see something of the 
principal advance in that direction. 

We had indeed heard the echoes of a 
battle, and of one which, though of no 
great imi)ortance or duration, opened 
the door of Alsatia for Germany. The 
army of the Crown Prince, with the Fifth 
corps, thirty-two thousand strong ; the 
Fleventh with the same number ; the 
First Bavarian corps, of thirty-eight thou- 
sand men, and the Second with thirty- 
two thousand, and the Bavarians and 
Wurteml>ergers more than forty thoasand 
in number, with two divisions of cavalry 
seven thousand strong, — all these were 
thrown forward upon or near a point 
which was defended by a French di- 
vision, onh' nine tiiousand in numlier. 
The French are right when they say that 
General Douay and his division at Weis- 
senburg fought f)ne against five, for at 
least eighty thousand Germans took iiart 
in the brief struggle on the morning of 
the 4th of August, which resulted in the 
retreat of the French and the occupation 
of Weisseuburg. Had the French been 



i;)2 EUROPE IX STOUM AXl) CALM. 

strong and ciuirk enout^h to bavo at tlicir work, so that Weissenburg is 

pushed into Germany at this p(.)int. half- qualilicd as a costly victory even liy tiie 

a-dozen days ])efore tlic UKibilization nf (icrnians. The Frcncli resistance, al- 

the German armv was complete, how though the troops were totally unpro- 

different Ihe results might have been! pared for such an (iverwhelniing attack. 

])Ut all tli<' world knows the history of was vcmt creditable, and has always been 

the surprise, for it iciia a genuine sur- praised by the enemy. It was lietter for 

prise, at Weissenburg. The French sol- (ieueral Douay that he should have been 

diers, in describing the battle, asserted killed, for, generous and true-hearted as 

that (ieneral Douav had tcj improvise he was. he would never have forgiven 

his plan of action under the enemy's himself for being the unwittins; iustru- 

lire. ^V siallaut French oflicer. !M. Du- mcnt fur the adniissicin of the (iermans 

ruv. who was eng:ige(l in the action, into the province which they had deter- 

said : --We were halted for an instant mined to take from their traditional foe. 

to I'eform lines, while advancing to the We made the best of our way over 

heiu'lits from which the (4erman lire had the encumbered mads, uow litei'- 

come. This halt of ours was like a ally swarming with troops, ni) through 

si<i'ual for the enemv, who had been for the i)icturcs(pie mountain passes to 

sonic time silent and iinisible. A hor- Kaiserslautern, near which pretty little 

ribic fusillade liioki' out all along our town liarbarossa is supjKjsed to lie still 

line (jf battle. 'I'hi' \inevards were liter- lying in his eu<']iauted sleeii. Here a 

ally tilled with sharp-shooters, ambus- fellow Aiiieiieau i<iurualist and myself 

caded there since the morning, or excited thi' sns|iicions of a patriotic iu- 

perhapstlii' evening before. Tliev tired habitant ol'llie town, who at once siiread 

while kueeliiiii' down hidden among the the repoi-t that there "ere " Fj'euch s|iies" 

leaves, and. if 1 am u((t mistaken, shel- taking notes among the troops, and 

tere(l behind little hillocks of earth, towards evt'uing, after our English friend 

wlii<li tliev had had time to throw u\>. had departed on a little reconnoitering 

r>v thi-ir position they had a great ad- expedition towards Ilomburg on the 

vantage over us, as we were on the oi>eu frontier, we were suriounded by six 

road." stalwart soUliei's, accompanied by an 

The iiinrcti'' of this I'ecital is almost ollicei', who, without any unnecessary 

pathetic. It indicates a surprise, so politen<'ss, iiifornieil ns that we were 

great as almost to deprive this otlicer, arrested. We could not deny the soft 

who was doubtless brave enough, of impeachment, and wei-e marched off 

military sense, lie seems to imply that through the town, escorted by a jingling 

it was disloyal and imiiroper on the part procession of small boys and greasy' 

of the (iernians to take tidvantage of .lews, to a huge tjari'ack building, where 

their position, or to fortify themselves we were initiated into the delights of a 

in it. The Crown Prince had rattled military (trison. While we were not 

down fioni Spi'ver to Landau in a post- frightened we were deeplj' annoyed, 

chaise, ami thenci' on horseback to the because we had wished to push on that 

outposts, to be present at this action, night to the frontier. Our companion 

He directed tile storiniug of the castle in misfoitune was a gigantic pei'sonage 

of Schafenburij bv the King's (Treua- connected with the array, who was labor- 

diers, who were very badly cut up while ing under a temporary hallucination, 



EUROPE IX STOR.U AXD CALM. 



193 



supcriiKlucecl liy copious libations, and 
who insistt'd, at intervals tiiron^^lioiit 
the niiilit, in tlireatening to exterminate 
us with his jack-boots, whicli he could 
certainly have done if he had persisted 
in atieni[)ting it. About midm'ght, our 
situation becoming intolerable, we clat- 
tered furiously upon the door, and 
made most vigorous protests, which 
brought to us a superior officer, superbly 
dressed, who took our passports and 
protests, and left us with the cool 
remark, that, whether we were light or 
wrong, there we must bide the night. 
We did bide there with as much patience 
as we could connnand, and were not a 
little startled when the door was opened 
in the morning to find six men and a 
sergeant wailing to escort us, wliither 
we knew not. We were ordered to " fall 
in," and were marched, in the rain, 
which was coming dowu in torrents, 
through some back streets of the town, 
our escort [uoceeding with such solem- 
uity that we began to fancy that we 
might ))(' going to our own execution. 
My comi)anion vouchsafed the remark 
that they " certainl}' coald not shoot 
us." "But then," he added, "if they 
wish to, they have guns euough ; " 
and w'ith this [joor attempt at wit we 
were both satisfied for the moment. 

When we were quite drenched the 
minions of an effete despotism deposited 
us in the hall of a large and dingy 
structure, and retired without l)idding us 
good-morning, but not without seeing 
that we wore pro[ier!y locked in. As 
this hall was not especially inviting of 
aspect, we made bold to open a side 
door, and found ourselves in a comfort- 
ably warmed room, around three sides 
of which ran shelves filled with docu- 
ments, and we concluded that we were 
iu the office of some functionary. Seated 
in a corner was a portly man, with a siu- 



gnlarly white face, and something so sad, 
yet proud, in his demeanor that we could 
not help observing him carefully. We 
learned during the day that he had 
l)assed fifteen years in a fortress, wear- 
ing a liall and chain attached to one of 
his h'gs, because he had lieen too free 
with his pen in his criticism of tiie gov- 
ernment under which ho lived ! At 
present he was one of the large Liberal 
party iu Kaiserslautorn, men who hated, 
and who did all they could to oppose, the 
military policy and the crushing despot- 
ism which Prussia had imijoscd upon the 
whole nation. 

After what seemed to us an inter- 
minable delay this personage came out 
of his corner, and informed us in the 
CJorman tongue that some one would 
c(jme presently to examine us ; then fol- 
lowed another delay, which a[)|)oared like 
weeks, but it was only half an hour. 
An amiable gentleman, with a fiery com- 
l)lexion, arrived with a somewhat ))e- 
wildored air, as if he had boon suddenly 
awaktniod from his slumbers, and taking a 
chair, and drawing it up to the taiile in 
front of which we had ventured to seat 
ourselves, he laid before him a package, 
upon which he laid both his fat hands, 
'i'hon he took a long look at us, after 
which he burst into a loud laugh, and 
said in English: "Veil, boys, I think 
you were in a scra[)e." 

As there was no disposition on our 
part to deny this, and finding that he 
spoke his broken English in a manner 
which indicated a period of sojourn in 
America, wo ventured to interrogate him, 
and foimd that he had, like many other 
Germaus, returned to the Palatinate, 
after a long and prosj)erous stay in the 
United States, and that he was one of 
the memljors of the city council in 
Kaiserslautern. The military authori- 
ties, despairing of making spies out 



194 



EUnOVK IN STORM AST) CALM. 



of us, IukI IkiikIimI us (i\'c'r to the 
town, and li:i(l ti'iveii into our new 
friend's li;iiids all the papers which had 
beeu found ujion us. These papers 
were now returned to us with a cour- 
teous apology from the representative 
of the city's dirjnity and with tlie remark 
that the burgouiaster would shortly call 
upon us to express his regrets at the 
luifortunate occurrence. 

It was at the '• White Swau " Inn that 
we had been arrested, just as we 
were sitting down to dinner, and 1 was 
somewhat amused at tiie vehemence 
with which our city councillor insisted 
upon our going to the '• White Swan" 
with him, and bestowing upion the land- 
lord a few specimens of Anglo-Saxon 
invective. We declined to do this, and 
expressed a preference for bed. 80 we 
adjourned to the Prince Karl Hotel, where 
we were warmly I'eceived, and sent to 
the " "White Swan " for our personal be- 
longings. We had laid quietly down to 
rest when tliere came a loud knock at 
the bedroom door, and in walked a 
l)oliceman. This we considered too much 
of a trial after the ad\'entares of the 
night, but this functionary insisted upon 
our dressing and accompanying him. 
"Wliat was our ainusenient and amaze- 
ment when we discovered that the land- 
lord of the "White Swan " had summoned 
us before a magistrate, there to listen to 
his aiiklavit tliat he had lind nothing to 
do with our arrest. I>aek we went to 
the hotel, and once more to bed ; and at 
one o'clock, the hour when dinner is 
served in most German hotels, we went 
down to the long- dining-room, in which 
jjerhajts one hundred oHicei's were smok- 
ing and drinking ; and there we encoun- 
tered our friend, the city councillor, and 
were invited to lireak bread with him. 

"\\'e had not l)ecn long in the room 
when we discovered that at its opi)0- 



site end was a ])arty of gentlemen who 
were in no wise in symiiathy witli our 
city eouncillor. and who were certainly 
malcing meiry at our ex[iense. We in-, 
quired the reason of this, and our German 
supporter then told us that there were 
two parties in Kaiserslautern, liitterly 
hostile each to the other, rrominent in 
one of these parties was a certain Chris- 
tian Sind, who had a, s[iecial dislike for 
all Americans, and for all the Germans 
who had returned from America bring- 
ing with tiieni their eritieisms upon the 
old and slow metliods of doing liusiness, 
and also liringing with them larger 
fortunes than Ilerr Sind and his col- 
leagues had been able to get together at 
home. Hei'r Sind, in his wanderings 
tln-ough the town, had observed our 
movements, and had reported them as 
suspicious to the military authorities ; 
hence our arrest. These facts had come 
out during the morning while we were 
sleeping off the memory of tlie cavalry- 
man and his annihilating jack-boots, and 
our arrest was now to l)e maile matter 
for a furious discussion between the 
contending parties in the city council. 
My companion, who had served through 
our civil war, was a bit of a wag, and 
fancied that from Ilerr Sind's appearance 
he might not relish the notion of a duel : 
so he sent a card to that suspicious gen- 
tleman, with an intimation that, if the 
report concerning Ilerr Sind's conduct 
were true, he had not behaved in a gen- 
tlemanly fashion, and lioiied he would 
give him immediate satisfaction. 

Herr Sind arose and came to our table 
in a state of anger which it would he 
diflicult to dcscrilie. To my friend he 
said, in broken English, that he would 
not fight with a boy ; whereupon, my 
friend, with an impetuous obstinacy 
born of the occasion, endeavored to 
stimulate the courage of Herr Sind with 



EUROrE m STORM AND CALM. 



11 



oue 01' two of those epithets wliich are 
rarely received calmly. But tiie clinin- 
pion of the Conservative party iu Kais- 
erslauteru was not warlike. He bel- 
lowed defiance, but went no further. 
After a few war-dances about our table 
he retreated to his own, and there con- 
sumed the remains of his diuner in 
moody silence. The German officers, 
who had got wind of the affair, were de- 
lighted at my friend's conduct, and 
stood up iu line, shouting innumeralile 
" Hochs," holding out their glasses to 
him as a sign of approval of his conduct. 
Our friend of the fiery complexion \n as 
now reinforced by a number of his col- 
leagues, and we completed our dinner 
with the feeling of having thoroughly 
triumphed over our enemies. 

But this was not all. During the 
course of the afternoon we received an 
immense document from the city hall, 
signed by the burgomaster himself, and 
announcing that we were personally 
known to the city government of the 
good burgh of Kaiserslautern ; that our 
papers had been inspected ; and that we 
were entitled to protection, militai-y and 



civil, wherever we might travel in Ger- 
man lines, in war or peace. Meantime 
we received a letter from our P^nglish 
friend, informing us that he had been 
safely bestowed iu a small guard-house 
at the nest town beyond Kaiserslautern, 
Ilerr Sind's denunciation having included 
him, and having led the military authori- 
ties to believe that they had bagged a 
trio of dangerous spies. 

The recommendation from the city 
government of Kaiserslautern did not 
hinder us from being arrested again, at 
a small town near by a day or two after- 
wards. 

Some years later I was conversing 
wilh the editor of a German paper in 
St. Louis about the Franco-German war, 
and happened to mention the fact of 
this second arrest. 

" Ah ! " he said, " that could not iiave 
happened in the section of (icrmaiiy in 
which I was born." 

" Where were you born?" I ventured 
to inquire. 

"In Alzey." 

Now it was in Alzey that our second 
arrest occurred. 



lyi3 EiROPE IX STOIIM AXD CALM. 



CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE. 

Germcrsheim. — The Rhine IJeil. — Across the Fi-ontioi-. — 'Wcisseiiliiiri,'. — On to Woerth. — The Disastei- to 
the French. — Tlio German Descent of tlie Hill under Fire. — f 'liarg-e of Gen. Bonncmain's Cuirassiers. 

— The Valley ofllell. — Mac:Mahon's 1 )ereat. — The Ilorrorsof the Reireat. — Frossard's Xeu'ligence. 

— Ilazaine's ,Tealn^^^■. 

FROM Alzcy we thoiijilit it worth our over llio sninc roail wliidi we had takun 
wliile ti) rrtui'ii to Landau and on the niuht <it' our cleiiarture from 
ficrnicrshfim, and so to urt up to the Landau. 'J'lic ti-oo|>s uiao p^.)uring along 
hnc of the Crown I'rinee's operations, tlie higliwavs silentlv, and with that air 
Gerniersheim stands on tlie Rhine, at a of gravity wliieh always settles down 
point nearly opposite an important for- upon a uiarching army when it knows 
tress in Baden. Tlie Hhine. wliieli for- that an encounter is just aliead of it. 
merly persisted in performing tlie letter S The eounti'y was rough, broken hv small, 
twice between Speyer and (Jerniersheim, but ditlieult, hills, and on either side of 
has now been considerably straighteneil, the post road, by which we crossed into 
and the old bed of the river adils to the l-'rauee, there were long rows of noble 
strength of the fortress by making it trees. Tlie German outposts were scat- 
dittieult to get within attacking distance, tered along the frontier at every few 
Immense sums of money had been spent rods, and we heard wonderful stories 
on the fortiticatious of Germersheim about sliarp-shootiug which we took 
within the thirty years preceding the with the necessary grain of salt. At 
war. The country round about is vei'y Weissenburg we foinul iiroelamations, 
beautiful. The little Queich river ram- posted on all tlie priiici]ial Imildings, 
l)les and rushes through green tields and announcing tiiat no inhabitant would be 
along the edges of pretty forests. Di- disturbed unless interfering with the 
rectly to the south of Germersheim lies progress of military o|)crations ; in which 
Sonderlicim, and, further Ijclow, Hordt, case he would be shot. The Ereneh 
two fortilied towns of some importance, peasantry seemed rather servile towards 
The (ieniians had antit-ipated that the tlie invaders, and many men professed 
French might attack from ^\'eissenburg, loudly that they were not at all in 
using the railway lietween Germeisheim favor of the wai-. They rebelled iu 
and Landau to hasten the transportation some instances against the unwelcome 
of troops, and we found this road duty of burying the dead, which the in- 
guarded at every mile with such precaii- vading Germans forced upon them ; but 
tions as only the German armies can they were compelled to do the work, 
take. Landau and (iermcrsheim are the There were Imt few instances of mur- 
oft'sets to Lauterburg and "Weissenluirg ders in <Mild blood in Weissenburg after 
on the southern French frontier to Rlien- the tight. One old man brained a IIus- 
ish Lavaria. sar, who was entering lu6 house, and we 
From Germersheim to the frontier we were told that he would probabh' be 
had an uneventful journey. We went shot for it, unless it could be proven 



EVROI'E IX STORM AXH CALM. 



197 



that the sol(]ier h:iil dono him soiiic 
h:irin. 

No sooner had the Crown Prince won 
)ns extraordinary success at Weissenljuri;- 
tlian he telegraphed to llei'liu : " Stop 
everything else, and send nic i)rovisions. 
Do not dela3- a moment." Pausing on 
the confines of the enemy's cuinitry. and 
glancing over its impoverish<'d villages 
and bare fields, he saw that lie must 
l)rcpare to take with him all his means 
of sustenance. There was not even a 
potato to be fomid in tlie fields, and the 
|)easants of Weissenburg and twenty 
miles around were at their wits' end to 
proc-ure provisions for themselves. Had 
there been a certainty of plenty to eat 
for some days the imi)atient Prince 
would have engaged the Frent'h a secou<l 
time before the Cth ; but he was com- 
pelled to wait, and is said to have had 
grave donlits as to the results of this 
delay. lie threw himself ni)on the task 
with unparalleled aixlor, and was on foot 
in the town one whole night, comforting 
tiie wounded, and guarding by his pres- 
ence the inhabitants against wrong. 

Having received the news of the Siiar- 
bruck operations, of which we knew 
nothing at tlie time of our visit, aw], 
doubtless, being aware of the determina- 
tion of Prince Friederieh Karl to give 
battle in that vicinity, he puslied forward 
his men on the steps of the fiying enemy. 
On tlie evening of the oth of August 
he found that MacMahou's forces were 
not far off. but were said to be in a dis- 
organized condition, the flight of the di- 
vision which had been vanquished at 
Weissenburg having been communicated 
to the whole line. He therefore en- 
deavored to crown the success of the 
inv.asion by a crushing blow, which 
would enable him to proceed to Metz 
and Xancy, driving ]MacMahon before 
him, and destroying all his hopes of 



communication with the other army 
corps, which were just then, although 
the Crown Prince of course did not know 
it. about to suffer a defeat. But he was 
now in the midst of a broken and rcjugh 
country, where forests covered the an- 
cient hills from the sunligiit, and liis 
advance was difficult, slow, and lull of 
suspicion. He wont forward, feeling 
that he was not thoroughly su|)plied, and 
dreading to go far till sup[)lics could 
come up. 

On the morning of the (ith his 
advance was approaching Tiefeiil)ach. 
Veiy early on that morning the sound 
of rifle-sliots was heard, and before tiie 
sun was warm in the sky tiie Crown 
Prince, with a few staff officers, rode 
hurriedly to the extreme front, and 
an engagement was at once iH'giin. 
JMarshal MacMahon had marched on the 
Ith of August upon Ilagiienaii. TIk^ 
Emperor had placed at his dis[)ositioii 
the Fifth corps (jf General De Failly, 
and if that General had been diligent on 
the disastrous d:iy of the fith tlie Mar- 
shal miglil, perh.aps, have held out 
better than he did against the Germans. 
MacMahon li.ad intended to join his 
forces with those of General de Failly, 
and to attack the right flank of the 
Germans on the 7th ; but he was one 
day too late in his plans. 

The Germans found that Marshal 
Mac^Iahon had taken up his position 
between Langensulzbach on the north 
and Morslironn on the south, a field full 
of ravines and patches of wood, and cut 
up here and there into hoi>-fields. The 
First division, commanded liy General 
Ducrot. was at Froshweiler ; the Third. 
Ijctween Froshweiler and Elsasshausen ; 
the Fourth, facing the table-land of Guns- 
tett. with its right on Morsbronn. A 
division of the Seventh, placed, like the 
Fifth, at MacMahon's disposition (it had 



1!I8 EUR on-: ix storm axd calm. 

an'ivod in the morning), was put in tlio uf tiie sdlitiirv ndtraHlcuw, whicli was in 

SCI ond lint' witli the Dmuiy dixision, position, uuule tliese veterans groan, but 

which iiad just lieen in the Weissculmrg eoulil not turn them back. The slopes 

liglit. ilacJIahon had now under liis were strewn witli wounded, and now 

eonnnand Ijut I'orty-six thousand availa- and then a stout man would jump into 

l)le men with wliieh to liold his position the air an<l fall, dismembered and lileed- 

against one hundred and sixty tliousand iug. Tlic cries of the wounded, at one 

(icrinans. The Second Bavarian cor|)s or tw(i pc.iints in this march down tli':- 

I)egaii an attaclc <:in the Ducrot division ; liill, wci-c so tei'rilile that the French 

at llie same time tlie Fifth Prussian tlionglit a general retreat liad begun, and 

corps attacked tlic Raoult division in tiie tlie iirtiUvnr^ stopjied firing to gaze, as- 

centre. tonished. But still the relentless march 

At seven o'clock in the morning, along went on. 
a range of hills l)t'yond Woerth, the Part of the Fiftli cor|is, composed 

batteries were playing their liveliest, entirely of Prussians from Posen, the 

Tlie little village of Frosliweiler, two Sevi'uth, Fifty-cighlli and Fifty-ninth 

miles from AV^eissenlmrg, was crammed regiments, many of the men with the 

with French troops, waiting to g(j into Ka'uiggratz medal on tlicir breasts, were 

.action. There was no excitenu'iit on now also engaged in this solemn prome- 

the part of the (lerman troops, wlio nade towards death and victory ; and the 

were jogging along the high-road, when cohnnns l)egan to blacken the hill-side as 

thev heard tlie advance body open tire, far as tlie eye could see, back to the 

Everything was conducted in tlie most sombre line of wood. Now and then 

orderly and trancphl manner. through the foliage were seen the bright 

The [iie(ui<'siiue town of Woerth helmets of the Prussians. In some 
stands in the basin formed by a eircu- places the piles of dead, left by advanc- 
lar langi' of hills, steei), wooded in ing regiments, obstructed the progress of 
patches, and with vineyards scattered those coming on behind; and a long, 
here and there. Beyond the town, on jiatient halt under fin; was made by men 
the noi1li-west side, and in the direction who cxiiected every liniment to be num- 
of Frosliweiler, is an old caslle. A bered among the slain, 
little bi'ook. escaped from the hidden Meantime the outer battle line of the 
bases of the hills, wanders through French, the Turci's. du' Zouaves, and 
Woerth to lose itself s^icedily in the the Liiu'rs. equally distributed, had ad- 
thickets. The Freucli lines, as massed vanced partially down the opposite hill, 
U|ion the hills opposite the (leinians. and were tiring rapidly, but with lack of 
were so extended as to forai a siiecies precision, at the resistless yet unresisting 
of semicircle, and fi-oni these lines there and ou-coming men. The French soldier 
came a steady tin^ of shells, under which usually goes hea\'ily loaded with aimiiu- 
the Eleventh Prussian corps of Hessian nition, cairyiug twice the number of 
and Nassau troopis began, at jierhaps rounds allowed in other armii's ; and with 
nine o'clock, to desccmt the hill, and the rji((-<scji(jl in his hands, and with his 
to march steadily and unwa\'ei-iugly, marvellous celerity of tiring, he si'enicd 
although they seemeil marching to eer- (in this day almost like a demon vomiting 
lain death. The tremendous elamoi' of lire and smoke. One echo, one roll and 
the shells, and the occasional diy whir crash, followeil another so (piickly that 



EUROPE Iisr STOliM A\D CALM. 



199 



the interval lietweeii was liardly percep- 
tible. 

The French sonu'times, since the liattle 
was ended at or \ery near Froshweiler, 
to which they were obliged to retire, give 
the name of that town to it. The Prus- 
sians called it tiie victory of AYoerth, 
and as sneh it will probably be known 
in history. The struggle extended over 
a lono- tract of iiround, and its shocks 
were felt in seven or eight villages. 
MacIMahon had certainly distiibnied his 
scanty forces with admirable skill, with 
a view to covering the possible advance 
of the enemy from Strasbonrg to liitche. 
He had suffered great anxiety because 
of his poverty of forces before he had 
discovered the overwhelming numbers of 
the enemy. He was obliged to leave 
the town of Blorsbroun, which after- 
wards became one of the most important 
points in the battle, unoccupied, because 
he had not troops enough. At this place 
occurred the celebrated charge of the 
CLurassiers of General Bonuemain, who 
were tli)ust forward by Marshal Mac- 
Slahon in a desperate endeavor to hurl 
back the dark masses of Gciniaus who 
seemed to spring out of the very hill-side. 
This magnificent division of cavalry, 
which has 'been amplj' celebrated in song 
and story for the last decade in France, 
went crashing and clattering into the 
vineyards, where the men and horses were 
slaughtered bj' dozens. These men 
of the Eighth and Ninth Cuirassiers were 
among the very best troops in the French 
army ; they were fit antagonists for the 
coh)ssal German troops; and, had they 
been properly matched against an even 
number of the enemy, would have held 
their own superbly. They had to go 
through the village of Morsbronn to de- 
scend into the valley, there form anew, 
and charge. As they went through the 
village dozens of them were dropi)ed 



from the saddles by Germans ambus- 
caded in the houses and in the alleys ; 
from the windows revolvers were fired 
ujion tliem, and once outside of Mors- 
l)r(>nn the batteries filled the valley with 
the veiy fires of hell. 

In the midst of this terrific hail of 
shell they managed to get into line; 
but when they charged tliey were deci- 
mated, stricken as if by lightning, and 
tiie movement which they had hoped to 
accomplish was rendered completely im- 
possilile. All along the French line 
from Elsassliansen, at which the right of 
the Second lirigade of the Third division 
was snp[)orted, to where the broken line 
of the Fourth division faltered from the 
right of the Thiid, — to Morsbronn, 
there was the most frightful slaughter. 
Marshal MacMahon, as I have since 
been told hy French soldiers, had been 
in the saddle the greater part of the 
previous night, and had hardly taken 
food since he had heard the news of the 
Weissenburg defeat. 

It was to turn the general piosition of 
the French, and make them change their 
front, that the terrible advance of the 
Germans into this valley of death be- 
tween the hills bristling witli artillery 
was made. When the Germans had 
reached the bottom of the liill they were 
naturally in full possession of Woerth. 
In the town itself there wei'e no French 
soldiers. The unfortunate inhabitants 
were half dead with fright ; and, after 
the Prussians had taken possession, many 
houses were fired upon by the French, 
and some of the inhabitants were badly 
wounded. A " lazaroth," or sanitary 
station, was established, and the ambu- 
lance corps of the (iermans were soon 
bringing wounded into the captured town 
at the I'isk of their own lives. 

Just outside thelittle (?o/7'thc slaughter 
had been so <>reat that dead and wounded 



200 EUUOPE IN STOUM AXD CAL.U. 

wero iiili'd to^'Ofllcr, ami the li\iiiLj hail l)ay<>iu't wounds wure found on liis deal 

to bo picked out of the ghastly lu'a|)s of body. 

the slain, while shells were niaking fresh While this saniiiiinary struook. was in 

victims close at hand. .Several of the progress on the hill, and the strago-linL;- 

surgeons were killed on the field. One French reserve was hurrying u|), a shar)) 

prisoner told of lieing found at the very fire was begun fioiu tlie left bank of the 

liottoni of a heap of dead men ; and a Saucriiacli by the Germans. This di- 

I'russian otHcer, whom I met afterwards verted the atlciition <jf the French, but 

at \'ersailles, told me "with much gusto was soon discovered to lie a false attack, 

the maimer in which the wounded rolled and did no great harm. Some of the 

into the ditches of the valley to escaiie French guns were presently dismountecl 

bnlli'ts. lie himself, heavily wounded, by the artillery on the opposite hill, 

rolled into a ditch. rresently there and the French line began to waver 

joini'd him another, who died iu a few under the tearing and rending shocks 

miuutes. " By the time the battle was of the German lire. Some of the ofFi- 

over," lie ailds, '■ I was in the midst of cers of the line, seeing that there was 

seven horril.ile-looking ol.ijects. who had every jirobability of liciiig forced to 

rolled into the niuil, just as 1 had. from surrender, marched into the thick of tlie 

instinct ; and live of us sa\ed our bullets, and fell. 

lives." Here on these slopes varying fortune 

Kushing iu wilil confusion through and dealt continiii>iis death, and the advance 

around the town the Ciermau troops gradually became moii' dilliciilt, be- 

began charging n[i the steep hill, where cause not only of the piled-up slain, 

the French awaited tlieui. l>\ this time but of the laindieds, even thousanils, 

the first French corps had changed its of knapsacks thrown away by both 

front, and a number of infantry regiments the couiliating [larties. The vigorous 

advanceil slowly down the hill to meet attack on the extreme right of Slac- 

tlie enemy. Ilalf-way U[i the declivity JNIaliou's position was at last crowned with 

the number of tii-rnian dead decreased success. The rrnssians, who had been 

raiiidly, and the French liegan to fall liringing up artillery all Ihe forenoon, 

like grain before the reaiier. The Ger- had now altout sixty [lieces of cannon 

mans were determined to avenge the on the tabledand at Gunstett, opposite 

inniishment received during their terrible ]\Iorsbronn, and [irotected their infantry, 

preliminary march, and they ran forward which charged in great numbers on the 

to short range, then began liriug with Second division and the Seeon<l brigade 

nuibt methodical dignity, :dways hitting of tiii' Third division, at Flsasshausen. 

and generallv killing. The Turcos and The I!a\arians and the Wurtemburgers 

Zouaves were niowii down rapidly, and were iu this charge, and fought like de- 

sucli was the indignation of the ( iermaus inoiis, losing less killed than any other 

against die WHili'ii, as the Arabs were I'orps, '• liecause," said a piisoiier to me, 

called, that when one fell a shout of '•they never stood still long enough to 

trinmpli arose. One beutenant of a be shot." 

Tiirco regiment, mail with tlu' instinct The powerful Ore of the fhinstett bat- 

of coming defetit, ran forward, ac<'om- teries caused a wail to go up all over 

paiiieil by twenty of his men, plump into France two days after the battle. In 

the arms of the Germans. A dozen and around the liop-fiehls and vineyards. 



EUROPE IN STORM AX!) CALM. 



•iOl 



at Morsbronu France lost niaiiv n, gallant 
gentleman and gay soldier on that bittei' 
Augnst day ; and it was a black bom' 
and is a black memory. 

The Prussians gi-adually poured upon 
the field three to one against the small 
band of Frencimien, who now wore 
fighting with the ferocity of despair. 
There was in the charge of Elsasshausen 
some liand-to-hand figiiting, in which 
both sides manifested an animosity 
aroused by the nuttnal taunts before the 
war. It was when the tremulous bugles 
were sounding retreat and misfbrtuue for 
tiie armies of France that there was a 
great rush on either side for a final 
struggle. When this was over, the 
French, vanquished on the hills back of 
Woerth, and with their central right 
cleft in twain, found Marshal MacIMahon 
in a fainting condition, witii his horse 
killed under him. A French friend, 
who was in this battle, told me that 
MacMahon narrowly escaped death a 
dozen times. Once his cravat was shot 
away. The Marshal, reviving, took a 
hasty view of the situation, and the mel- 
ancholy retreat began. 

A noble soldier of tlie Forty-fifth 
French line, who was in this liattle, and 
who was killed at Sedan, has left on 
record his impressions of tlie frightful 
condition of the French army after the 
fight. " All the eor|)s," he wrote, 
" were mixed up In a nameless rablile. 
The enemy, from its advantageous posi- 
tion, threw its hissing shells into the 
midst of this crowd, cutting l)loody fur- 
rows ihrough it. Tlie ground over which 
we walked was covered with dying and 
dead men. The entreaties of the 
wouuded to us not to abandon them, 
and to carry them along, were heart- 
rending. The pursuit was ardent. Our 
rear-guard stopped from time to lime to 
engage the enemy, and give our artillery 



a chance to get a little ahead, and to the 
engineer cori>s to block up the routes. 
At a short distance from Reichshoffen '" 
(this is another French name for \V(jcrth) 
" our artillery fired its last shot, which 
the Marshal had carefully preserved, be- 
cause, if we may believe an eye-witness, 
at four o'clock in the afternoon we were 
already without much annnuuition." 

It is said that Marshal MacMahon was, 
in a moment c)f despair and rage, in- 
clined to engage in a last charge into the 
enemy's lines in the hope of winning 
a soldier's death ; but his escort said to 
him: "Why get yourself killed? You 
must not go; you must come with us." 

So, covered with dust, with his clothes 
filled with bullet-hiiles, poor MacMahon 
designated Saverne as the rallying point 
for his troops, and left the field which 
lie had done his best to contest against 
overwhelming numbers. Saverne was 
eight leagues away, and eight leagues 
after such a day for this army, without 
proper ammunition, witiiout food, ami 
comijletely disorganized, was a terrible 
inarch. The French withdrew, leaving 
liehind their wounded, all their baggage, 
six thousand i)risoners, thirty-five can- 
non, six '/nit ret! lie uses, two fiags, and 
foin- thousand wounded men. They had 
lost General C'olson, the IMarshaFs 
General of Staff. General Raoult was 
dying. It was, as the French writers 
descrilied it at the time, not a defeat; 
it was a veritable disaster, — the blot- 
ting out of the most vigorous corps in 
the French army. 

The Germans admit that they lost 
abouc eleven thousand men. ami the 
French claim that the German \ ittory 
cost Germany sixteen thousand men. 
The Crown Prince himself was profuse 
in his expressions of respect for the 
enemy which he had encountered. 

Thus, on the (Itli of Augnst, the 



20-2 



EURdVE I.V STORM A^D CALM. 



Crown Prince luid nilxaneed his offen- 
sive line almost in cxaet nnison with 
Steinnietz, at and beyond Saiirlirnck, 
towards tlie most imiioi'tant fortress of 
P>anee. This very fortress Franee had 
not ]>rei>ared properly to defend, sinee 
she had Counted on cutting into the 
enemy's counti-y. 

While General de Faiilv had l>een hesi- 
tatino- between Bitche and Xiederbroini, 
lieariiig the cannon thnndering, without 
liasteuing to the scene of combat, as he 
should have done, the Second C(jrps, that 



of General Frossard, had been attacked 
between Suiirliruck and Forbach. 

Marshal Bazaine should have sent to 
tliis point sullicieut forces to help Fros- 
sard ; but it is on record that Bazaine, 
when he heard of the scrape into which 
the Imperial favorite had got, said: 
"Let him earn his Marslial's Mfon 
all alone." 

Poor Frossard not only got no Mar- 
shal's bdton, but by losing the day at 
Forbach he lost the Moselle to France. 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



203 



CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO. 

The Great Battles iu frout of autl arouuJ ^Ictz. — Frieilrich Kai-l. — The Saarbruck At^'air. — Folly 
and Incompetence. — The Hrandenbiii-^; Cavalry. — The Field of Eezonville. — Gravelotte. — Saint 
Privat. — Mars La Tour. 



WHEN the decimated rras.sian regi- 
ments gathered together, to sing 
tlieir evening liymn, after the victory at 
AVoerth, two gigantic CJerman armies 
were already on the soil of France, and 
rapidly effecting a junctiou. 

Tlie Germans say that the splendid 
unity of the Crowu Prince and of Stein- 
mefz in action on the 2Gth was the first 
great success of the war. For three 
days after Woerth the Crown Prince 
gave his whole time to provisioning his 
army, putting the living into the most 
comfortable condition possible, and the 
dead into the ground. The forty thou- 
sand men iu the quartermaster's de- 
partment did their work well, and the 
supplies came rolling in from all direc- 
tions. Except the Priuce, not a man, 
save the dare-devil Uhlanen, or Lancers, 
who went sl^irmisiiing about the barren 
country away from the army, suffered 
from hunger. The prisoners coming to 
the rear jilucked up courage on the new 
diet, and took a jolly view of things. 

AVliat was Friederich Karl, whose 
armies I had seen moving up through 
the defiles of the Pfalz past Kaisers- 
lautem, doing all this time? 

In a letter to his wife, which was 
pulilished in the Prussian papers of 
the day, he wrote: "I am a half rag- 
ing man, for I cannot, with my accursed 
luck, fiud these Frenchmou. They are 
all gone away." ]5ut Steinmetz, the 
"aged terrible," with seventy thousand 
men, was pushing forward rapidly i:)y 
the short wavs north of Metz, towards 



that virgin fortress ; and Friederich Karl, 
burning with emnlatiou and a bit of 
professional jealou.sy, cut in by Pont-a- 
Monssou, and came up liy the otlier way. 
The Crowu Prince, only forty miles 
from Metz, was beginning to make the 
good old town of Nancy quake with the 
visits of his adventurous Uhlans. 

King William had taken absolute 
possession of the provinces whereia 
his armies were stationed ; had given 
them militai'y government ; enumerated 
seventeeu classes of people who would 
be shot without mercy if they interfered 
with military operations ; made the in- 
habitants furnish sis cigars per day for 
each soldier, so said the angry Alsa- 
tians ; given them to understand that 
any soldier who abused them should be 
severely punished ; and even had time 
to answer the Pope's letter praying for 
jieace, politely telling liim to attend to 
his own aft'aiis. 

The old King was often afield too ; 
rode reconnoitering, attended only by 
half-a-dozen officers ; sang hymns with 
the boys at the bivouacs ; wrote pious 
little letters to his Queen, intended, of 
course, to thrill the country ; devised 
even a gigantic scheme to catcJi Napo- 
leon, and make him a prisoner in front 
of Metz, but failed. 

The part played by tiie French Em- 
peror in the campaign up to the time 
of MacMahon's retreat upon Chalons 
was not calculated to inspire his sub- 
jects with admiration for his military 
or j)olitieal talent. The recital of the 



204 EI-ROFE IN STORM AND CALM. 

8a:irliiurk :itT:iir caiisfd :i rippk'of luu^i'li- :uuli>ne o'clork. when the French troi)|is 

ter at most of the Euro[ie:iu Courts, wuiit down from thi' hi'iglits, and 

and the dcspatrh sunt off to tho oponed a violunt fire upon the towu, 

Empress the niornini^ after the little for tlie first time getting a notion of the 

engagement, and [inlilislied immediately tacties of the Prussians, who. as usual 

by one of the leading Paris journals, in all their battles, were amhuseaded 

made the dignified militarv men of tlie in the houses or behind tlieir l>arri- 

capital bite their lii)S and scowd. In eadi'S. The Germans were oliliged to 

this despatch Naiwleou spoke of his letreat, which they diil with so much 

sons havino- I'cceived the " ba[itisui of deliberation and in such good order 

fire;" of the shells and Imllets falling that the French troops 0[)enly ex- 

at their Im[H'rial feet; of the Prince pressed their admiration. A Prussian 

Imperial's coohiess, and how he i)icked colonel, mounted on a white horse, 

u\i a Ijnllet which fell near him; how the braved the fire of the miiniillciisc.f so 

soldiers wept at seeing him so calm, often that he was t'iieeied by both 

and how all this glory was procured at sides. 

the moderate cost of one ofiicer killed Despatches annonneing a " great vic- 
and a few soldiers wounded. tory " were sent off to Paris; but the 
"This /i(!s(_'-eii->ici}iii\" says a distin- German account, pnlilished the same 
guished French historian of the cam- day, and telegraphed throiighoul ICurope 
paign, '■ dis|)leased everybody." The reduced the incident to its propei' pro- 
fact was, that the campaign which had portions. It read as follows: •■ Yes- 
Ijecn opened on the I'Gth of .July l)y tcrday, at ten (Vclock in the morning, a 
a skirmish at Niederbronn, had its little detaehnient of our troops at Saiir- 
second eiiisode at Saiirbrnck, whitli bruck was attackeil by three divisions 
was occu|)ied by a battalion of the of the enemy. The town was lioml)arded 
Fortieth regiment of Piussian infantry, at noon by twenty-tln-ee jiieces of artil- 
and three squadrons of cavalry, with lery. At two o'clock the town had been 
a few i)ieces of artillery. The Germans evacuated and the detachment retired, 
were so confident that the French Oin' losses are small. According to the 
would make the first attack, and wouhl report of a prisoner, the Emperor was in 
cro-s the frontier, that they had ranged front of .Saiirbruck at eleven o'clock." 
themselves ill line of battle on the ' Had the men of the Second Empire 
right l)ank of tlie ,Saar, had sent up not fully apiireciated their weakness 
two battalions to reinforce the troops they might have had the courage to seize 
in Saarbruek as soon as the advance ujion the little advantage which they at 
of the French was rei>orted, and a few first gained at Saarbruek, and to push 
miles liack had strong reserves to pro- lioldly forward into (leriiiany. hoping 
tect the retreat of the little corps. The that the nation would rise behind them, 
Freiicli took position on the heights of and that the armies, now coming rapidly 
the left bank of the river, and their forward, desiiite their miserable com- 
batteries swept the \allcy ; and here missariat and other defects of ctiuipment, 
the iiiitrai/lcxscs for the first time made might lush in and swee[i the (b'rmaiis 
their hoarse voi<'<'s heard. The action back to the lihine. Ihit all the leaders 
which began in the morning of the 2d of the Empire knew that the corruption 
of August iMilminated between eh'veii and the lack of preparation were not to 



EUROPE IX SroNM AXD CALM. 



205 



be reiiR'diod. Tliev must have foreseen 
disaster, and they determined to satisfy 
tliemselves with a vain show of resistance. 
Marshal MacMahon is the only one wlio 
can be exempted from this reproach. 

No sooner liad the Emperor sent off 
his despatch to the Empress than he 
went back to Metz, but not to remain 
there long. It is curious tliat his de- 
parture from tlie great fortress should 
coincide with the begiiming of the battles 
around Jletz. He left on the morning 
of the 14th, accompanied by the Prince 
Imperial, and was off again for Verdun 
as soon as the action at Longeville ap- 
peared to liave turned in favor of the 
French. The Germans made nuicli 
sport of tile unfortunate Emperor, and 
their papers were lllled with anecdotes 
about liis journej'. "At one place," 
says one account, '■ the Emperor asks 
for a glass of wine at a railway station, 
and drinks from the same glass as the 
station-master. The young Prince after- 
wards washes his hands in the goblet. 
Soon after the Emperor leaves in a 
rougii carriage, and refuses with great 
heroism the cushion offered him. It 
is not every day," adds the sarcastic 
German, "• that one goes to or from a 
baptism of fire." Another account says 
that all Paris is grumbling liecause it 
liears that three regiments have lieeu 
taken from I>azaine's army to guard the 
Imperial party to Ciullons. A common 
remark among the Fiench soldiers when 
Napoleon's name was mentioned was : 
" Do not speak of that donkey to us ! " 

Poor MacMahon's retreat upon Cha- 
lons occui)ied about fourteen days. 
As tlie Crown Prince's arm3- was push- 
ing on vigorously in pursuit, the French 
abandoned all along the route of march 
cases of biscuit, and forage wagons ; and 
the Fifth corps left behind nearly all its 
provisions, which were not enormous. 



The soldiers were in complete disorder. 
'•Never," says one writer, "had a 
French army presented such a lack of 
discipline. The soul of the country 
seemed to have taken wings after de- 
parted victor}'." In the villages the 
soldiers sacked the barn-yards and 
hunted the poultry for their empty 
camp-kettles. An officer of high rank 
has recorded in his diary that he was 
attacked by two men of his own divis- 
ion, who endeavored to rob him, like 
veritable highwayinen. He was obliged 
to use his weapons against them. The 
rains were almost incessant during the 
retreat; the army had no tents, no 
knapsacks, for nearly all had been 
tlu'own away after leaving tlie field 
of Woerth. The men were covered 
with nnid ; tlieir cartridge-boxes were 
thoroughly drenclied ; and, if tliey had 
been forced into a fight, they would have 
been overwhelmed by a new disaster. 

The ablest German military critics 
were prodigal of condemnation for the 
Emperor's interference to prevent the 
retreat of Bazaine upon Verdun. " The 
motive," says one of these critics, 
" which prevented the Emperor Napo- 
leon from ordering the army of Metz to 
retreat at once to join witli that of Mae- 
jMahon, after the lOtii of August, still 
remains an enigma. On tlie 10th of 
August there were at JMetz at least 
one hundred and eighty thousand good 
troops, able to fight vigorously, espe- 
cially all those of the Imperial Guard, 
which was, witliout dispute, tlie eJite of 
the French army. Metz was too poorly 
provisioned for such a colossal garrison, 
and hunger would naturally bring about 
its capitulation. But the place was 
sufficiently provided witli food, for 
many months, for a garrison of fifty 
thousand men, and would thus have 
been practicall}' impregnable." 



2()(: 



EUROVE IN STOHM AND CALM. 



The folly and ineoinpeteiice of tlic 
Iiuiieiial rontluct of the war was again 
showu iu foreiiig MaeMahoii, when he 
was installed at C'lifllons, and when his 
matchless talent for organization had 
pulled together one hundred and twenty 
thousand men and four hundred cannons 
and seventy uillrtiiUcusi'^, to leave a 
place where he could have turned and 
fought the enemy, wliicli was i)ursuiug 
him, to great advantage, and to jnake 
a roundabout tour across the country, 
perilously near the Belgian frontier, aud 
so down, to relieve Bazaine under the 
walls of Metz. " If MacMahon," says 
the same German critic whom I have 
just quoted, '"did not wish, or was not 
allowed, to join the army of Bazaine at 
once aftei- the .surprise of Weissenburg, 
Woerth, and Spichercn, the best plau for 
him would have been to stay at C'hftlons, 
to defend the jiassage of the Marne, and 
offer upon that ground a battle to the 
armies of the two royal princes of Prussia 
aud .Saxony. lie could there have con- 
centrated nliout two hundred thousand 
men in the days between the "ilth and the 
30th of August. This army, in favoral)le 
positions along the Marue, would have 
been a very dangerous adversary foi- the 
German troops, and would have checked 
the march ou Paris. If the French had beeu 
beaten they would still have had a line of 
certain retreat, falling back within the line 
of the forts of Paris. But if the Germans 
had been l.ieaten their situation would 
have been desperate. In point of fact 
the Germans had at their back Metz aud 
its one hundred and eighty thousand 
men, and Longwy, Montmedy, Thion- 
ville, Toul, rhalsbourg, Strasbourg, 
Langres, Brisach, and Schlestadt. with 
their garrisons. A defeat of the Ger- 
mans iu the month of August in the 
neighborhood of C'iialons would have 
been the signal for an armed uprising in 



Alsatia, and Lorraine, in the Vosges, aud 
ou the Cote d'Ur." 

It is well known in France that Mac- 
]\Iahon yielded to tlie Emperor's tardy 
determination when he pushed on to 
Metz, where the lighting was pretty well 
' over, with great ditliculty ; but he was a 
soldier, accustomed to obey, aud his strong 
objections were stated only once or twice. 
That the Emperor was mainly responsible 
for the movement which culminated in the 
disgrace of Sedan, aud iu the blocking 
of Bazaine's army for months in Metz, 
is shown by a despatch sent from the 
Imperial heiul-cpiartei's, on the l.jth of 
August, 1870, to the then Minister of 
War in I'aris : '■ I send you the result 
of a Council of War, which will give you 
the measures that I have decided upon." 
As the result of this despatch the Min- 
ister of War telegi'aphed to Jlarshal 
MacMahon : •■ In the name of the Coun- 
cil of Ministers and of the private Coun- 
cil, I beg you immediately to succor 
Bazaine, profiting liy the thirty hours' 
advance that you have on the Crown 
Prince of Pinssia." MacMahon did not 
leave ChAlous until the ■_';!<1 of August, 
in the morning. 

The Emjieror, who seemed lint little 
rufHed by the great events which had 
meantime taken place in the vicinity of 
Metz, went with him. The "man of 
destiny "once more shone forth in him, 
and, rattling along in his heavy campaign 
carriai>e, wrapped iu his huge black 
cloak lined with red, he assumed his 
old Ca>sarian air, and, doubtless, hoped 
for a few short days that fate would be 
propitious. 

^Meantime the great events above 
mentioned were destined vastly to mod- 
ify the campaign. On the l-'Uh of 
August the King of Prussia moved his 
head-(puirters from St. Avoid to Fal- 
(piemont. or Falkenbni'g. as the Germans 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



207 



call it, aud announced to Napoleon, l)v 
the reconnoissauces that his troops then 
made, that he was but twenty miles from 
Metz. He spent the night still nearer, 
at Hermy, and was there on the eveninii 
of the 15th also. Bazaiue, who had 
been engaged in hasty movements from 
the 10th to the 13th, was suspected b}' 
Vou Moltke of being anxious to retire to 
Verdun, and thence to Chfdons, wiiere 
he could join the vast forces which Mac- 
INIahon, who had not }"et got his fatal 
orders to move forward, was bringing 
together, and where battle could be given 
in earnest. Von Moltke at once decided 
to prevent Bazaine, at any cost, from 
reaching either Verdun or ChAlons, as he 
was naturally desirous of leaving the 
Crown Prince unobstructed passage 
towards Paris. He wished, also, to have 
Bazaine's army as thoroughly broken as 
possible before Metz, and 
then pushed back, so that 
Steinmetz and Friederich Karl 
could proceed forward to join 
the Crown Prince. It seems 
pretty evident that if Bazaine 
had not been occupied with 
squabbles with his officers in 
Metz he would have done all 
he could to hinder the move- 
ment of retreat, so necessary 
and so wise. It was, how- 
ever, by the 14th so thorough- 
ly organized that lie could not 
well interfere. 

"On the 14th," saysa Fi'ench 
officer, "our interminable processions 
began across the Moselle. Every soldier 
was bent double under the weight of his 
baggage. The army, which ought to 
have been as swift as the wind, might 
have been compared with its burdens 
and its absurd imjjedimenta to the army 
of Darius. The Emperor had gone off 
at noon, escorted by the cents gardes, 



and by a squadron of the Guides, 
through a crowd of sad and silent citi- 
zens." 

(Steinmetz was already across the 
Moselle, and coming from the uortli 
in all haste towards Metz. Fried- 
erieli Karl was hurrying up, but 
had not arrived on the morning 
of the 14th, when Steinmetz, 
whose duty it was to keep 
Bazaine's whole army em- 
ployed until " Karl " 
should appear be- 
tween Metz and 




HEAD-QUARTERS OF NAPOLEON AT CHALONS. 

road lay along the very road that 
Bazaine's army must take on its way 
to unite with MacMahon, unless he 
was willing to give the united two 
armies battle. Bazaine endeavored to 
draw his forces from the right to the 
left bank of the Moselle as quietly as 
possible, so as not to attract the enemy's 
attention ; but as soon as the movement 



2().S EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 

was iieri'fiveil ( iciicrul Steinnictz piislicil the contiiuioiis firo from the forts; and 

forward a i)art of the Seventh corps, (leneral C'olliniere teU'gra[)hed to Napo- 

under the eoniiiuuid of General Gotz, to leou at LongeviUe, where the Eni|ieror 

attayk tlie rear-uiiard of Dei-aen's eor|is. was waiting in liis caniage: '• All along 

It was qnite late in the afternoon, and the line we remain vietors. At half-past 

the I'rnssinns were so hasty in their at- eight we are about to charge again." 

tack that they once or twice came under Tiicre was in fact a night cliarge, and 

tlie guns of tiie fortress, and were the Prussian columns, which came back 

obliged to retire in disorder. General stubbornly to the light, were repulsed. 

P'rossard's c(irps at once went to assist Napoleon was delighted, aud, holding out 

Decaen, who was shortly engaged with his hand to Bazaine, who came up to his 

all his men, and a iles|)erate liglit ensued, cari'iage after tliis last charge, said to 

during which liazaine continued to him :" Well, Marshal, you seem to have 

o|>erate his retreat aci'oss the stream, broken the cliarni." Meantime King 

The slaughter was fearful on both sides, William was telegraphing to Berlin that 

and the Prussian losses, through their lie had had a victorious encoimter at 

own ineaution in getting withiii range of Borny, near Bletz ; that the French had 

the guns of Metz, were very consider- been driven back, aud that lie was just 

able going on to the Held of battle. 

Bazaine soon saw that he could not The French corps commanded by Lad- 
continue Ills retreat, and sent General niiranlt aud De Faillv had sulfered worse 
Ladmirault to combat the First Pi nssian tlian the others, as they were on the 
corps. The Second Prussian brigade, right liank of the river, about four miles 
under GeiicraK ilumer, joined to tlie divis- from ]\Ietz, aud terriblj' scourged by 
ion of (ienerals Kameke and Wrangel, shell. Bazaine sent over some of the 
liiially drove the French forci's in large troops, which were already in full retreat, 
numliers across the liver and to the for- to help them. Steinnietz had thus suc- 
tilicatioiis of Metz, u[) under their cet'ded in hindering Bazaine in his 
cover. Cu'ueral Von Manteuffel, who retreat, but he did not attempt the dan- 
had been placed in the reservi', was then gerotis task of following him up. The 
called into action, and for hours was tJerman troops were drawn (.)lf the lield 
occupied in storming the positions whicli at ten o'clock, and marched to liivouac. 
the French liad taken here and there. There they were visited by the King- 
He linally forced them to quit each one, and his staff; and from Von Steinmetz, 
but not until he hail suffered heavily. \'on ^Manteuffel, and others, the old 
For more than an hour and a half he inouarch learned that Von Moltke's first 
was within range of Metz. and his men reipiisite had lieeu gained. Prayers 
wei'e under a (.•rushing showei' of dendlv were said, and a general season of re- 
hail ; but they on no ot'casion tlinclied, joicing was entered upon. All night 
aud later in the day pushed on to Borny, fiie watchers on the walls of Metz could 
still nearer Jletz. The greater part of hi'ar the anthems and the chorals of the 
the battle was fought on a plain called soldiers rising superlily clear out of the 
]\Ietry, between Vougy and St. Barlec, darkness and distance, and wondered 
two small villages. The French were how the armies which had suffered such 
very conndent of victory, so great were terrible losses during that afternoon 
the Prussian losses, aud so telling was could muster courage to sing. The 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



209 



losses on the rnissian side were roughly 
estimated at from eight thoiisaud to 
sixteen tliousand men at the time ; the 
French on that day lost about thirty-four 
hundred men, killed and wounded. The 
vineyards, the ravines, the woods, were 
filled with Prussian bodies, and the 
slaughter would have been greater if the 
French artillery had not come to the end 
of its amnmnition and been compelled to 
retire before nightfall. As iu nearly all 
the battles of the war the French artillery 
opened with a terrifying fire ; then, just 
at the moment it was most needed, bad 
nothing to fire with. 

All night the pale moon showed to 
the [lickets of the reposing armies 
shadowy forms flitting about on the 
battle-field. These were the Prussians 
and the French delegated to secure the 
wounded and bury the dead. Tiiis was 
done in silence and iu sorrow, no encoun- 
ters occurring while the solemn duty was 
performed. 

Monday, the anniversary of the birth 
of the great Napoleon, the 15th of 
August, usually celebrated in Paris with 
impressive ceremonials, brought bright 
sunshine to the fields covered with 
blackened and mangled corpses, and 
looked down upon the Emperor in swift 
retreat. Next day Steiumetz contented 
himself with skirmishes, none of which 
rose to the dignity of a battle. The care 
of the wounded, the burial of the dead, 
and the i-epose of the fatigued army oc- 
cupied most of the time. The King 
visited the field early in the morning and 
personally superintended the removal of 
many of the wounded. Then he wrote 
more despatches to his Queen. 

On the loth the army of Friederich 
Karl was in full march on the road which 
furnished Bazaiue his main avenue of 
escape to Verdun. There are two roads 
from Metz to Verdun, here and there 



running parallel. That upon which Ba- 
zaiue had decided to retreat is the old 
Roman road, which at (iravelotte, one 
and one-fourth miles west of Jletz, splits 
into two avenues, one leading Iiy Don- 
court to Verdun ; the other through the 
villages of Rezonville, Vionville, and 
Mars-la-Tour, to the same place. Vion- 
viUe, three miles from Doncourt, is two 
and three-fourths miles west of Metz. 
Gravelotte is nearly eleven miles from 
the fortress, and is f. small hamlet of 
seven hundred inhabitants, built on a 
high l)luff. This height governs on the 
east the valley of the Meuse. Vion- 
ville, a simple Alsatian dorf, is six miles 
beyond. From Verdun to INIetz the dis- 
tance is thirty-five miles ; from Mars-la- 
Tour, which became an important point 
in the battle of the IGth, it is twenty-one 
miles; from Gravelotte to Mars-la-Tour 
is six miles, on an excellent highway. 
Rezonville, from which point the King 
of Prussia sent his famous letter to the 
Queen on the 19th, is about one mile 
directly south of Gravelotte. The coun- 
try is broken and hilly, very charming, 
and full of scenic surprises. There 
are so many little villages through which 
the next liattle was waged that the ac- 
tion of the 16th of August was called 
shortly after its occurrence by half-a- 
dozen different names. The French 
soldiers designated it eitlier as Vionville 
or Doncourt. Eazaine's telegram, in 
which he said that he had fought the two 
great German armies from Vionville to 
Doncourt all day long, convinced the 
French that these were the proper names 
for the fight. 

Bazainc's whole army was retreating 
in remarkably good order, on Monday 
morning, when the Marshal heard that 
Friederich Karl, advancing from Pont-d- 
Mousson, had struck iu on to the high- 
waj', and placed himself iu a strong posi- 



210 



EUROPE L\ STORM AX/) CALM. 



tiou on M;ir.s-l:i-Tiiiir. Bazaiue foiild 
luirdlv lirlii'vi' tluit his umnny liacl iiuule 
so rfipid an ailvauce, and continued cau- 
tiously, an enemy beliind, an enemy in 
front, and an enemy nivaginjj; the fair 
land to which he was eudeavoriug to re- 
treat. He was riglit. Friederich Karl 
had not had time to gain this gr(.)nnd ; he 
had, however, sent forward tiie magnili- 
cent division of Brandenburg cavalry to 
Mars-la-Tour, to hold tlie great cohnmi 
of nearly two hundred thousand men in 
check until he could come up with liis 
main cnlumn. Bazaino saw the situa- 
tion at (Hice, and ordered an attack by 
divisiiins, — of Decaen's the Third corps, 
Ladniirault's the Seventh, Frossard's the 
Second, Canrol>ert's the Sixth, and the 
fiue Imperial (inard, the pride of France 
and tlie flower of her soldiery. The 
Braudenburgers held the fin'ious French 
in partial check for more than six 
iiours, until Friederich Karl's Third and 
Tentli corjjs, successfully sup|iorted by 
divisions of tlii' Eiglith and Ninth, came 
up. During tliis time the German cav- 
alry, according to the French authoi-ities, 
had l)een fairly decimated; "almost 
blotted out," says one writer. But now 
came the fresli German trooi)s into ac- 
tion, rushing ont of the woods upon Vi- 
ouville, andtakiug that village by storm. 
In front of Kezonville General Bataille 
had been wounded, and the Secoud corps, 
after haviug liravely withstood the at- 
tack, had beut liack, and was protected 
in its retreat liy the Tliird Lancers, and 
l)y the Cuirassiers of tlie Guard. 

During this movement tliere was a 
charge of Prussian Hussars uiX)U some 
artillery with which Bazaine was trying 
to cover the attack of the French cui- 
rassiers, and the Marslial and his general 
staff were surrounded by the German 
troopers. There was a little liand-to- 
hand titihting. and the ^Marshal was for 



a moment ov two in imminent danger of 
being taken [irisoner. But just then a 
wave of French cavalry swept up, over- 
whelming the Germans, and protectiug 
the cannon which they were trying to 
t:dve. If Bazaine had perished ou that 
day he would have been accounted a 
hero. 

The Germans were now massed with 
their right ou Mars-La-Tour. They 
had taken \'ionville, and they next 
directed their attention to the village of 
Flavigny. There took place one of the 
sharpest combats of the war, the French 
batteries shelling the Prnssiaus who were 
established iu the woods near Ijy, and 
killing them by hundreds. Mnch of the 
lighting was done in the large wheat- 
fields, and there the French drove back 
the assaults time aud time again. The 
ripening grain was reddened witli the 
blood shed in tiie awful shock of cavalry, 
and in the slaughter effecti'd l.iy the 
iidtTailh'iisp liatteries. At the west of 
the battle-field Hows the river Orue, and 
tlie many little Ijrooks tributary to this 
river were red with blood before the 
struggle was finished. 

Altliough the French showed pro- 
digious valor on this daj', and ou the 
whole foiigiit with consummate skill, it 
is clear that they were taken completely 
by surprise iu the moruing. One of the 
Generals, who was in the retreat, atlirmed 
tliat very day that there was not a Prus- 
sian on the whole line of marcli. When 
his divisi<.in was attacked the horses 
were picketed and unsaddled. I'rince 
Mnrat, iu commauil of the first brigade, 
came (jut of his tent, and went into action, 
with his napkin in his hand. He had 
been breakfasting as tranquilly as if he 
were at the Cafe Anglais. The decisive 
and most formidable attack of the Ger- 
mans was towards the end of the day, 
when fresh soldiers came U|i to grapple 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



211 



with the exhausted French. Geueral von 
Alvensleben took two regiments of a 
cavalry divisiou, and gave them orders 
to talce the French batteries, which were 
causing such territie losses in the German 
lines. These gallant troops swept down 
bravely to the attack on the position, 
passed through the French lines, and 
went up on to a little height, which had 
concealed from them cue of the French 
divisions. Theu they rushed at full 
speed along the wood of Vionville. This 
gave the French cavalry an excellent 
opportunity for attack ; and a brigade of 
dragoons and the Seventh Cuirassiers 
hurled themselves down upon the Ger- 
mans, who were stupefied by this sudden 
move. Two squadrons of the Tenth 
Cuirassiers came to harass the unlucky 
Germans from the rear, and the rout was 
complete. Oddly enough the Seventh 
Prussian Cuirassiers had a terrible con- 
flict with the Seventh French Cuirassiers 
on this day. The Sixteenth regiment of 
Prussian infantry lost its flag, and at the 
close of the action had but one hundred 
and sixty men left out of three thousand. 
On the right, towards the close of the 
day, the French had the whole advan- 
tage. The Germans still maintained 
their position in the centre. The Ninety- 
thii'd French line was driven in by the 
Prussian Cuirassiers. Its flag was taken, 
and one piece of cannon was being 
carried oft' when a detachment of Frencii 
cavah'v swept down from the heights of 
Vionville, chased the Cuirassiers, took 
back the flag of the Ninety-third, and 
the cannon also. 

The day was finished with the last 
and magnificent charge of the Prussian 
cavahy on the French right, which re- 
sisted manfully ; and the French, who 
had been so unhappy in all their efforts 
up to these days of mid-August, could 
justly claim that they were victors 



when night fell upon the bloody field 
of Rezonville. 

Next morning the troops were horri- 
fied at the ghastly spectacle of the 
hundreds of corpses i)iled in fantastic 
shapes, or here and there standing 
propped against eacli other, where a 
tremendous gap had been made in 
an advancing line of battle. The Ger- 
mans had lost about seventeen thou- 
sand men, and the French were not 
much better off. The French claim 
that they had only one hundred and 
twenty thousand mew in the action, and 
that the Germans brought one hundred 
and eighty thousand soldiers upon the 
field. 

Bazaine at this time appears to have 
l)een more occupied witli protecting his 
line of retreat upon Metz than in carv- 
ing his way forward to his junction 
with MacMahon. He never, say the 
soldiers who were in the fight, manrou- 
vred as if he wished to get to Chalons. 
The army was intoxicated with success, 
and cried out to be led forward ; but 
Bazaine paid no attention to their de- 
mands. 

In these battles, as in all the others, the 
quartermaster's department was noticea- 
ble chiefly for its miserable incompe- 
tence. "On the ICth, in tlie morning," 
says a well known military writer, 
" the Second and the Sixtii corps were 
almost entirely without food. The First 
was waiting for rations, whicli the 
quartermaster's department was to send 
from Metz, and had not a day's [)ro- 
vision of biscuit. On the ITtii an- 
other corps had nothing but rice. 
There had been no forage since the 
14th for one of the cavalry regiments, 
which had to make two charges with- 
out food for men or horses ; and yet 
we were in France, and only seven 
kilometres from a town like Metz, 



212 



EUROPE JN STORM AND CALM. 



su})poscd to be iirovisioiied IVir ;i long 
siege." 

The ITtli was devoted, ns the 15th 
bad l)een, to tritiiiig .skirmishes. King 
William was on the Held, as at Borny, 
soon after the tight, and addressed the 
troops, exi}ressing his admiration of 
their condnet. If lia/.aine eonsidereil 
himself vietorions. the Prussian King- 
also claimed the vietoi'v. King Wil- 
liam is supposed to have urged on the 
battle of the 18th, wliieh was to be a 
final effort to sweep Hazaine from all 
the positions he had gained on the 
high-road, send him l.iaek to ^lelz, 
and make the way clear for the march 
of the Germans t(.i join the Crown 
Prince. 

At the beginning of the battle on the 
18th the French troops ou the heights 
of St. Privnt and Ste. Marie-aux-Cheues 
received the same surprise as atForbaeh 
ou the Kith. Whole brigades of Prus- 
sians suddenly emerged from the forests, 
which a few hours before the French had 
known to be vacant. But Bazaine was 
beginning to understand this mana?uvre, 
and was ready to receive the enemy. 
At eleven o'clock the fire opene<l from 
both sides all along a very extensive 
line. Gravelotte and KezonviUe, where 
Bazaine had strongly entrenched him- 
self, were the scene of the most sangui- 
nary fighting. About noon the French 
soldiers saw a black mass of Prussian 
infantry coming down from Gravelotte. 
The artillery sent a storm of shells into 
these moving lines, and the slaughter 
was great. The loss of life in this en- 
counter was probably greater than in any 
other battle of the century. The French 
soldiers had rapidly entrenched them- 
selves, and ke[it up a tremendous lire 
upon the advancing Germans. 

The three great roatls. which r.-idiatc 
westward and northward from Metz, 



mount \\\v heights near C'hatel ; and 
between that town and Amanvillieis the 
slopes -M-v. covered with trees, which 
run ui an unbroken line from \'ion- 
ville to Amanvilliers. Eastward, be- 
hind these woods, lies Verneville, and 
between \'erneville and Gravelotte ex- 
tends anothei' ui>od. Mont St. (.^uentin, 
between C'hatel and Metz, has a fort ou 
its summit, and is covered by the forest 
of Sauliguy, whicli runs liehind St. Piivat 
to the valley of the Orne. Early in the 
morning the Twelfth and Ninth corps of 
the Ivoyal German Giuird went towards 
Uoucourt, followed by the Thiid and 
Tenth corps, wliile the Seventh, Eighth, 
and .Second remained at Rezonville. As 
the lirst-mentioned corps went through 
the woods near \'erne\ille and St. Privat 
the last-mentioned attacked Bazaine's 
intrenchment near (iravelotte, keeping 
uii a mild attack until the others could 
come round ]>y C'hatel ami Amanville. 
The Ninth corps was in the battle before 
noon ; the others did not enter l.iefore 
four o'clock. The F'rench held the woods 
so long as they were not outuuml)ered, 
and the Ciernuins lost great numliers of 
men among the trees. The sloi)es, even 
on the "2(1111, were still covered with the 
wounded, and the unburied dead began 
to smell. St. Privat and \'erueville 
were finally taken. 

The general composition of the Ger- 
man army was as follows : the left 
wing was composed of the Twelfth Saxon 
corps, the Centre guard, and the Ninth 
array corps ; behind these, in reserve, 
was the Brandenburg corps, w^hose artil- 
lery came into the attack between Aman- 
ville and St. Privat, and was attached to 
the Hesse-Darmstadt division, and the 
Schleswig-IIolsteia corps. The right 
wing was ou the right and left of the 
main road Ic.-iding from Mars-la-Tour 
towards !Metz, and consisted of the 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



213 



Seventh Westphalia corps, under Stein- 
metz, and the Eighth, behind which the 
Second corps stood in reserve. 

The Prussian right first took up tlie 
figlit at Gravelotte. Meantime the cen- 
tre and left German armies swung to 
the right, and altered its front, previ- 
ously north-east, to east. The Saxons 
attacked St. Privat ; the Guards Amau- 
ville ; the Ninth corps the woods of Verne- 
ville, afterwards taking the village of the 
same name. At last, after the most 
valorous flghtiug, during whicli the Prus- 
sians were repeatedly driven back, the 
French right was driven into the centre, 
between Grnvelotte and Verneville, and 
tiieir back was threatened at C'hatcl. 

Towards Ave o'clock in the afternoon 
the fatigued and almost liroken French 
soldiery were swept down upon liy sixty 
thousand fresh troops. Batteries wore 
suddenly unmasked to sweej) the ranks 
of Canrobcrt's soldiers ; and the Royal 
German corps and the Tenth Prussian 
corps swarmed upon the breach made in 
the French ranks, which the Saxons were 
menacing from the rear. This was the 
dread moment of the day. The French 
fought like demons. Here a battalion 
of the Twenty-eighth line stood valiantly 
in the trenches and perislied to the last 
man. General Canrobert, sword in 
hand, was in the first rank, encouraging 
and pushing on the soldiers. He ke[)t 
u)) this resistance for more than two 
lionrs. In the gathering dnsk a severe 
attack was made on Gravelotte ; but the 
French opened such a good fire that the 
ditches were filled with the dead of the 
Second Prussian corps, which was at the 



head of the attack. This corps finally 
charged the position at tiie point of the 
liayonet, and after a hard fight, protracted 
until the combatants could scarcely see 
each other, Gravelotte was surrendered, 
and the French fell a little back. As the 
darkness stole over the laud the cries of 
the wounded, the cra.shing of the cannon, 
the flames of the burning villages and 
farm-yards, and the long lines of troops 
moving silently, and almost stealthily, to 
strengthen the positions which they had 
taken, formed a spectacle as dreadful as 
it was impressive. Marshal Bazaine was 
not in this fight at all. No one knows 
why he was not in it, for no one ever ac- 
cused him of being a coward ; but lie 
was at some distance from the scene of 
action, and seemed to take but little 
interest in it. The aged King of Prussia 
narrowly escaped annihilation by inimical 
grenades twice during the fight, and his 
whole staff was nt one time in imminent 
danger. After the battle, in which he 
had seen one of his favorite regiments 
ei;tirely cut to pieces, he slejit all night 
on a hand ambulance wagon near a house 
in Eezonville. 

AVhatever the Frencli thougiit of their 
stubborn resistance the Pru^sians had 
succeeded in effecting their purpose. 
Steinraetz had made his junction with 
the forces of Friederieh K:irl. The road 
seemed clear to Clialons, thence to Paris. 
Bazaine could not now retreat to Verdun. 
He had inflicted terrible losses on tlie 
German armies, and his troops did not 
seem a whit demoralized ; but nearly all 
the positions they had held and desired 
to maintain were now in German hands. 



214 



EUROrE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



CIIAPTEU TWENTY-THREE. 

French and ncnnan Rumors. — The Jimmont Quarries. — Tnifli about this Incident. — The AVoundcd at 
Frankfort. — Serving; in an Extempore Sanitary Corps. — Paris in Confusion. — The .Spy Scare. — 
Dangerous to Speali the Truth. — A new Jlinistry. — Comte Do PaHkao. — Jules Fuvre's Campaign 
against the FalUug Empire. — The Excited Crowds. — The Empire ends, as it began, in blood. 



A SERIES of .splendid and liistoric 
spi'cttieles passed before my 
tjaze durino' tlie next two months. 
The whole Cienntm land was filled with 
rumors of revolution in Paris. — iinnois 
as untrue at thtit particular time as 
thoy were proi)lirtii; of the horror and 
ruin which were to come. The German 
press, too, w:is filled with sensational 
tales of the lirii'f ctiinpaiiiii around Metz. 
The carn:i;j;(' \\as ten times iiiaiiiiified ; 
but one nceclcd diily to walk throusj;!) 
the streets of the great towns like 
Frankfort, Dtirmstadt, Carlsruhe, i\I;iy- 
ence, Coloone, and to see the women 
clad in black and the houses filled with 
mourners, to realize that the shock of 
battle had been attended with tremen- 
dous loss. 

In France the favorite ptistime of 
the stay-al-hotne chiss was the inven- 
tion of dreadful catastrophes which had 
befallen the Germans. The story of 
the qiiariics of Jaumont was one of 
these invciitidiis. It was said, liy the 
French, tluit in thr terril)le fisiht which 
took [ihici' tiiotmd tlie St. lliibcrt farm 
Prince Fiiedi'iicli Karl had st'iit a 
number of s(|uadrons of his best cavalry 
headlong into some deserted quarries, 
where horses ;nid mm fell together to 
die in lingering torture. As there was 
no occasion to be exact in the statement 
of a loss which tin im[ilacabK' enemy 
liad intticlcd np(jn itself, the French 
accounts boldly declared that thirty 



thousand men had gone down into these 
quarries, and tisserted that after the 
i>attle wagons of quicklime were thrown 
upon them ; and that Friedei'ich Karl 
v.as so affected by the terriljle result of 
the false niananivre of his cavalry that 
he w^as almost insane for a dtiy cjr two. 
This story even got into the English 
papers ; but it had no foundation whtit- 
ever. In truth the quarries of Jau- 
mont actually existed, Init they were 
far behind the French lines on the day 
of the attack on St. Hubert: and the 
whole story came from the great 
slaughter of Germans near another 
quarry, on the left wing of the French 
tirmy. (icnrral Zastrow, during the 
attack, had sent up by the highway 
three l)atteries of a reserve of the 
Seventh army corps, escorted liy the 
Fourth I'lihin icgiment, so as tn pro- 
tect his soldiers who were in full re- 
treat. A few minutes afterwtirds, men 
and horses, rushing away from the 
friuhtful carnage beyond, were crowiled 
pell-mell into the narrow gorge through 
which the road runs, and were riddled 
with shot from the French sharpshoot- 
ers ambuscaded in the Genevieux forest. 
All those who had the l);id luck to get 
intc) this defile, which w;is sctircely 
twenty yards wide, were cither swept 
down liy the fusillade, or crowded over 
into the (|ti:irries. The c-le.arcst ac- 
counts of this :iff;nr indictite tlitit only 
thirty or forty horses, :ind [leihaps 



El'ROVR IX STORM AXD CALM. 



215 



half a hundred mon, were fuiiied over 
the edge of the defile and perished 
below. 

The Germans were not one whit be- 
hind the French in their inventive 
powers ; and all the way down to Frank- 
fort from the frontier 1 heard stories, 
which, wliile not calculated to cast 
doubt upon the valor of the French, 
were intended to show the unquestionalilc 
superiority of the German soldier. I 
was strnclv, however, with the singular 
absence of animosity against the French 
in any of the remarks of the German 
soldiers. Now that the tide had turned, 
and that the return match was to be 
played, not only the military, but the 
civil party, had taken on an air of dignity 
and seemed governed by a determination 
to say nothing ill of its ancient enemies. 
Besides, Germany was inspired by the 
knowledge that important political events 
were about to take place within her 
boundaries. The foundati(jn of the 
Empire ; the welding of the national life 
into one homogeneous mass out of the 
union (.)f inharmonious and petty States ; 
the trium[)hant vindication of the wisdom 
of Bismarck's policy of "blood and 
iron ; " the uprising of an Imperial 
authority, which was to give the whole 
German land new burdens, but at tlic 
same time new strength and perliaps 
new lilierties, — all these things were 
being pondered by the most intelligent 
nation in Europe with that gravity wiiich 
is so characteristic of it ; and there was 
little rejoicing, — little, at least, that a 
stranger could observe. 

At Darmstadt we found that the 
regular trains had begun their trips once 
more ; but as each engiue had to dravv' 
back sixty or seventy empty carriages, 
which had gone off filled with troops, 
we were twice the usual time in getting 
to Frankfort. I had no sooner ai-rived 



there than I received a notice from the 
police-ofHce to ai)i)ear at the railway- 
station at a given hour, and to be pre- 
]iare(l to serve with tlie citizens of the 
sanitary committee in care of the 
wounded. This obligation was imposeil 
upon all strangers staying more than 
twenty-four hours in the town ; and at 
tlie appointed time, tliereforc, 1 went to 
tlie great i\Iain-Neckar Station, where 
I received a red-cross badge, and \vas 
stationed, as if I had been a German all 
ni}- life, at a certain point to await an 
incoming train. While I was observing 
a number of French officers and a few 
Zouaves, prisoners, who were gloomily 
smoking cigarettes in a corner, a tiain 
of fifty odd cars, mainly freight-wagons, 
on the floors of which bountiful quanti- 
ties of straw had been scattered, rolled 
into the station. In these cars lay in 
bloody, and sometimes hardlj' distin- 
guislialile, heai)s, the wounded I'l-ench 
and Prussians. The first few carriages 
were filled with dangerously wounded 
Frenclnnen, and, whether by accident or 
by design, I was deputed to sei've with 
a surgeon in succoring these prisoners. 
In a group was one Turco, a Zouave, a 
captain who had lost his epaulettes and 
was stretched on the floor, and a lieuten- 
ant who had been wounded three times, 
and whose right arm was already swollen 
to twice its natural size. The native 
courtesy of these unfortunate fellows 
was admirably exemplified by their feeble 
efforts to rise when we enteied the car. 
I sat down by the captain, and when the 
surgeon had attended to his wound I 
wrote his letters, and then we talked nf 
the battle, — one of tlie many in front of 
Metz. One ofHcer said that in all his 
campaigns he had never seen such noble 
treatment of prisoners. 

He was presently taken out of his 
blood-stained l)ed of straw, and given 



216 



EUBOI'E LV STORM AXI> CALM 



new garments, plenty of bieakfnst, and 
even clean linen. Surgeons and physi- 
cians were few, as the great nuiss of 
them were at the front; so the noii-j.iro- 
I'essiiiiKil ci\'ihans were compelled to 
trust to Ihrii' own slight knowlrdge for 
the liindiug of wounds. Mo.st of the 
prisoners were wounded twice, generally 
in tlic arm or leg; the majority of tlie 
Germans oner nuly, either in tlie breast, 
the head, nr Ihe loner limbs. Among 
ihv (icrnian lroii|is were a number of 
Bavarians, pr(.ibably the lioys wlioni we 
had seen leaving Speyer, and many of 
tliesi' wi-ri' ^.■lvagely wounded, a.s if they 
had indulged in nnieh haud-todiand 
fighting. Till' li.avariaiis are to the 
German rare what the Y.-inkees arc to 
the Ameiican, and have the same whim- 
sical, pieturrsijur way of talking. One 
litth' frilow, s<-arcclv tall enough to be a 
Sdldici'. and witli a childish face, had 
part lit his rigiit haml shot away. lie 
hailed me for succor, and, when 1 asked 
him wlierc he was hurt, said, '■ Nothing 
but a little scratch in tlie hand, and 
another in the Ico-. JUit I made him 
cold, the rcd-lireeches, — he won't do it 
again ! " i\IosI of tln'se Bavarians were 
light-haired, bhie-eycd lioys, ficsli and 
pure fi'cm the w<iild, but ferocious as 
tigers in l)altle. These liovs ha<l heard 
before leaving liavaiia that the Turcos 
carrie(l knives, and (h'spatched the par- 
tially wounded witll them. One whole 
regiment, thcretui-e. piov ided itself with 
the short, tiat knives made in the moun- 
tains of I 'pper IJavaria. Their colonel 
heard of this, and conunanded tliem to 
leave the cutlery behind, whereupon thev 
I'efused to uiareli until they were threat- 
ened with sharp punishment unless tlicy 
immediately olievt'd. 

In tills railway station at Frankfort 
Frenchmen generally received all along 
the line lietter care tlian the Prussians. 



At Frankfort keen resentment was still 
felt against Prussia, but there was no 
o|)en exiiression of it. The excited 
crowds were kept carefully back, and 
when a wounded man was strapped and 
held down to have a festering or sup- 
purating wound probed, he was cared for 
as tenderly as if he were a son of Ger- 
many. Field-post cards were distril)Uted, 
and gratihed the prisoners more than 
anything else. They were simply 
pasteboard cards, with space for au 
ordinai-y letter, and printed directions 
how to send them. They were also 
duiing the campaign freely distributed 
to the wounded (>n the Held or in far- 
away hospitals in a hostile country. The 
Prussian field [lost took them to the 
aiiny lines, and then they were passed on. 
In the carriages where Prussians and 
French were crowded together the best 
of feeling seemed to prevail, with one or 
two noteworthy exce|)ti(^ns. A Prussian 
stalked up in fi'ont of a car filled with 
Zouaves, and showed them the IniUet^ 
holes in his overcoat, they looking on 
sternly. Again, a blundering German 
surgeon cried out against treating the 
enemy so well. But no one could have 
lielie\ed the Germans so emotional and 
cxi'itable as this throng of civilians 
proved itself U) be in Fi'ankfort. The 
spectacle of one stout Frenchman sup- 
portiu'j, a poor Bavarian lad, who was 
shot tlirougli the face, and was evidently 
fast sinking, brought forth a storm of 
soils from the ladies, and strong men 
shed tears. We had in oui' i-harge one 
Frenchman who had lieeu wounded thrive 
times, being shot once tluough tlu' body. 
That he was alive at all was a miracle ; 
but he [lersis'ed in lieing taken out of 
the ear and allowed to walk aca'oss to sit 
down in tlu- fresli air. He was sur- 
rounded bv a dozen Germans, who ran 
hither and von to procure whatever he 



EURnPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



217 



needed, and tears ran down their faces 
when he was put upon a streteher and 
cari'ied away to the hospital, the surgeon 
declaring tiiat he could not last the day 
out. The Frenehiuau and German who 
had lain on the wet earth together all 
night, with the voice of the wind and the 
rain, and the shrieks of dying men, pro- 
claiming to them the necessity of peace 
and good-will, shook hands as they 
parted to go to different hospitals in 
Frankfort. The spectacle was imi)res- 
sive and suggestive. 

" Voi/PZ-vous !" said one Frcncii olllcer 
to me, " tliese Prussians (ire at very 
short range. They keep advancing, 
though it seems certain death, and yet 
they always aim delilierately. They 
have lost double the killed that we have, 
but there are not so many badly wcnnidcd 
Germans as French. Tiie liavarians 
clubljed their muskets, — the rascals 1 — 
and they were as bad as our Tnicos tol)eat 
oft'." There was a tragedy in epitome 
in one of the railway carriages, where a 
tall and handsome Hanoverian ollicer, 
who was accused — I know not whether 
rightly or wrongly — of having given in- 
telligence to the enem}', was being taken 
under guard to Berlin, where, if tlie ac- 
cusation were proved against liini, I 
dare say his stay upon earth was very 
short. 

Wln'n tlie wounded were all cared for, 
and the train hail hacked out of the 
station, I, with tlie other civilians, was 
relieved from service, being dismissed in 
half-military fashion. Next day I con- 
tinued my return journey to France. 
The drain of the gigantic mobilization 
was l)eginning to tell upon tlie country. 
There were but few horses in the streets. 
1 shall not soon forget the droll niixtuie 
of pathos and humor with which one old 
gentleman told me, '• My two sous and 
mv two best horses are now in France. 



God help me ! " In one street in Frank- 
fort I saw, at a very early hour in the 
morning, a regiment of rather rustic- 
looking young men niai'ch in and ground 
arms. The commanding (^lliccr, passing 
down the line on a tour of inspection, 
was dissatislied with the ap|)carance of 
some of the troops, and, stcp|iing up 
brisklv to the ott'enders, lie ga\e tliem 
sharp blows over the head and face, 
to which they snlimitted with the lamb- 
like placidity of men who could not help 
themselves. To this l)eating and thrasii- 
ing in the German army I soon became 
accustomed, seeing plenty of it during 
the long period of the siege. I reniemlier, 
on the day of the cai)itulation of the 
forts around Paris, being struck with the 
peculiar brutality of one fat ofllcer, wiio, 
reviewing a line of troops on a hilly 
street in Econen, caned and struck the 
erring ones so vigorously that I wondered 
they did not step out of the ranks and 
riddle him with luillets. But it was pre- 
ciselv this qnalitv <>f passive obedience 
and endurance, of submission to piniish- 
ment for the smallest infringement of 
detail, which made the German army so 
dangerous and powerful an instrument 
of invasion. 

In the fields the women were busily 
at work. 'I'he few men who had not 
been siunmoned across the frontier were 
miles away with cattle and forage teams 
providing for the army. Most of the 
peasants in the sections through which 
the armies had passed had received ten 
or fifteen soldiers nightly for a period of 
two weeks. The compensation for bil- 
leting is very small, and the effect on 
the poor people in the little dorfs must 
be quite ruinous, although they never 
complained. Each soldier on the march 
received every day half a poimd of meat, 
such vegetables as could conveniently 
be got, bread, black coffee, a little 



218 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



liiandy, and some cigars, — always fi- 
<'ars. The " tobacco cars," after tlio 
capitulation of Strasbourg, ran regularly 
from till' towns beyond the Rhine up to 
Lagny, the point from which sup[ilies 
were foi-warded to the vast mass (if 
trooi>s eoini)osing the three lines stretch- 
ing around Paris. In the field the fur- 
nisliing of provisions is organized b_y 
iiattalions. Eaeii company has its 
cooks, who follow it everywhere, pro- 
viding their lardei' in the adjacent cities 
or villages or by force or requisition in 
the enemy's country. Anything classa- 
ble as luxury the soldier must pi'ocure 
of his com[)any"s cooks, paying casli in 
all cases. Tobacco was never classed as 
a Inxiny. The French were amazed 
that thedernians ordered it for otiicers 
and men by requisition ; and this small 
exaction incensed them more, I have 
sometimes thought, than the payment of 
the five milliards. In iiivouac each sol- 
dier usually cooks his own supper, — if 
there is time for any cooking at all, — and 
I have often seen rows of little fireplaces 
dug in the lianksextending for twoor three 
miles along the road. The cavalry-men 
carry strapped lieliind tlieir saddles lolIs 
of coarse bread, which both they and 
tlieir horses cat. When a long halt is 
made, thousands of cavalry-men will be 
seen cutting bits of bread and feeding 
the liorses. 

The most miraculous feature of the 
German military discipline which I oli- 
served during the moliilizatiou was the 
celerity with which troops, and espe 
cially cavalry, were disembarked from 
railway trains. At Landau we saw a 
reginient of cavalry, which had jour- 
neyed fifty-tive hours steadily from 
Posi'ii, cleared from the train in eleven 
miimtes. It was as if b_y magic. The 
moment the carriages stopped, men and 
horses came out with automatic precision 



and soon were bivouacked on a plain 
lieside the station as tranquilly as if they 
had been there a week. While the battle 
of Woerth was at its height fresh regi- 
ments were being brought up and landed 
with woiidiafiil quickness close to the 
scene of action. The Germans are 
justly jiroud of their railway system, so 
adiniialil\ and adroitly planned for 
concentrating the nation ou any frontier 
which is menaced. The French under 
the Empire had begun a system radiat- 
ing from Clullons towards the frontier, 
and which, so far as it went, was as good 
as that of Germany. But when it was 
well under vvay, the corruption and 
negligence of the governing powers in- 
fected the military administration, and 
the system was never completed. 

From F'rankfort I returned, via Co- 
logne and Brussels, to Paris, where 
everything was in wild confusiou. Every 
second man met upon the street or in 
the shojis or restaurants was in uniform. 
Every stranger was supposed to be a 
spv. The French, ordinarily, in outward 
manifestation at least, the most courteous 
and oliliging of I^uropeau peoples to 
foreigners, had suddenly become infected 
with suspicion. At the first this was 
amusing, but presently it became in- 
tolerable. It was dangerous to tell 
French friends or ac(]uaintauccs the 
truth. They received the news of the 
battle of Woerth and the retreat thei'e- 
from with a scepticism which was 
painful to witness. Although the news 
IVoiii their own agents confirmed the 
tiiith, they still maintained that it was 
from German sources. An occasional 
straggling telegram from the Emperor 
was imblished broadcast in large and 
little journals; liiit it was noticed tliat 
none of these despatches talked of 
victory. •• Disorder in Paris," said a 
circular iHiblishcd early in August, 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



219 



" would be victory for the Prussians." 
Tlie fear of n Connnunistic outbreak 
was alrcaily plainly ilefined, and witli 
reason. Night after uight tumultuous 
crowds went to the ministries to sing the 
'"Marseillaise" and the '■ Girondins," 
and to ask for news. Now they heard 
of the taking of Landau, now of the 
total defeat of the I'russians, and now 
of a vigorous French advance to the 
Rhine. But, as a Frenchman of dis- 
tinction has confessed, at first no one 
was willing to believe these rumors. A 
kind of secret presentiment restrained 
e\en the most confident; but after a 
time they were carried away on the top 
of popular enthusiasm. Then came the 
fiist news ot the defeat, i)rought by 
foreiguers returning, like myself, from 
Germany, or by letters which escaped 
with difficulty from the clutches of the 
officers of the Black Cabinet, as the 
Imperial Inspection Bureau of the post- 
office was called. The Emperor with 
his broken phrases — "Everything may 
be right yet ; " " The enemy has ceased 
pursuit;" "The night was calm;" 
" The river was in good order," — began 
to annoy and worry the capricious 
Parisians. At the first news of the 
defeat, the Empress had returned from 
St. Cloud, where she had been sum- 
mering, directly to Paris, and assembled 
the Council of Ministers, and sent forth 
a j>roclamation which she signed as the 
Empress Regent. Although this docu- 
ment was extremely clever, it displeased 
everybody. This foreign woman, who 
spoke with such lightness of the flag of 
France, suddenly became obnoxious. 
The ladies who would have fallen at her 
feet a few weeks before now criticised 
her openly and boldly. Then came new 
decrees placing Paris in a state of siege, 
incorporating into the National Guard 
all valid citizens between the aije of 



thirty and forty, and convoking the 
Senate and the Corps LegUlatif. After 
tills. Minister Ollivier thought fit to 
issue a proclamation announcing tiiat 
the arming of the nation and the defense 
of Paris were being prepared in great 
haste. The minister added that all 
those who were anxious to have 
weapons had only to present themselves 
at the Bureau of Enlistment, and they 
would at once be sent to the frontier. 

The Corps L('(/is!((tif met on the 9th 
of August, and jM. Schneider, the presi- 
dent, had begun to read the decree of 
convocation, as this was an extraordi- 
nary session, and had just finished these 
words: "Napoleon, l)y the Grace of 
God and by the National Will, Emperor 
of the French," — when a prolonged and 
singular cry burst forth from the whole 
assemblage of legislators. It was as if 
the nation, by the voice of its represen- 
tatives, suddenly protested against the 
al)surdity of this statement as to the 
means of Napoleon's selection to his 
position of Emperor. M. Schneider, 
who was a man of great dignity, was so 
much astonished and so indignant that 
he crossed his arms over his breast and 
stood looking for some time defiantly at 
the assembly. Presently he finished the 
reading of the decree ; but it was noticed 
that he omitted, as if he were very much 
disinclined to give it forth, the reading 
of the name of the Empress, signed at 
the bottom of the document. IMinister 
Ollivier next tried to make a speech ; but 
the Republican Oi)[)osition was in force 
that day, and interrupted him witli such 
violence, and clamored so for his imme- 
diate disappearance from tiie ministry, 
that he stammered and blundered, and, 
in his trouble, spoke of an army of four 
hundred and fifty millions of soldiers, 
when he meant four hundred and fifty 
thousand. He continued speaking, al- 



220 



EUROPE LV STOn.V AXD CALM 



tliotiu'li shouts cif : "Less talk ami 
niofe action;" "We have no more 
confideiiee in yon ; " " It is you alone 
who have lost the country," — almost 
diowned his voice, which was trembling 
with miu<>leil fear and indignation. 
Jules Favre succeeded the nufoitnnnte 
minister in the ti'ihnne, and made one 
of his most eloquent s|)oeches, finishing 
with offering a resoluiiou for tlie im- 
mediate organization of the National 
Guard, anil the dislrihutiou of arms to 
every inhaliitant of Paris who demanded 
it for the defense of his hearth-stone. 
This was a tcrril>l<' measure for the 
Emiiire, since the possession of weapons 
ill file people's hands meant the over- 
turning of the Imperial dynasty. Pres- 
ident Schneider protested feebly, that 
the resolution was unconstitutional in its 
character, when a, voice in a corner was 
heard. " We are not considering the 
constitution ; we are talking about sav- 
ing the counti'y." 

The Ollivier miuistry, which had been 
built upon Iving promises, and was the 
work of incompetent hands, crumbled to 
jiieces at this session. A cruel Order of 
the Day thus worded — "The Chamber, 
decided to sustain a cabinet capable of 
organizing the defense of the country, 
passes to the Order of the Day" — was 
adopted by a great majority; and M. 
Ollivier went home feeling that he hail 
lived in vain. ^Vuiple proof of his un- 
popularity was given a few minutes 
afterwards, when M. .Tnles Simon was 
passing tin-ough the Place de la Con- 
corde. Peturning home from the session 
his carriage was stopped, and the crowds 
clamored for news. " Citizens," s:iid 
M. Simon, " I should like to have much 
good news to give yon. but I have only 
one bit, — the Ollivier ministry exists no 
longer." A great shotit of joy went ni) 
from the waiting crowds. Next dav, 



the Chamber voted a law calling under 
the tlag in the active army all valid citi- 
zens between twenty and thirty-five 
years of age, and increasing from four 
to twenty-five millions of francs the 
credit wiiich had been accorded by the 
law of July 24tli to families of soldiers 
of the regular army, and of the Mobile 
Guard. General Count De Palikao, 
whose most brilliant exploit had been 
the sacking of the summer palace at 
Pekin, became the new chief of the 
ministry, which was still lm|)erialistic 
in flavor. ^M. De Palikao has been very 
well described by a brilliant French 
di-amatic critic, who wrote an excellent 
liook on the siege, jNI. Fraucisipie Sarcey, 
in the following words: "The Count De 
Palikao was a wily old gentleman, who 
had no trouble in making us all dupes. 
He had noticed the bad effects that the 
boasting and lying remarks of the fallen 
ministry had produced, so he adopted 
just the opposite method. He gave no 
news at all of the military operations. 
ICvei-y day, after tlie session, he took 
aside two or three of his familiars, and 
mvsteriously whispered in their ears 
these enigmatic words : ' If Paris knew 
what I know, it would illuminate this 
evening.' Or, when a membi-r of the 
Left, impatient at his silence, asked of 
the Chamber some more positive infor- 
mation, he would answer, ' I can say 
nothing, except that everything is going 
on well. I can speak no longer to-d;iy. 
I have had a bullet in my chest for 
twenty years, and it prevents me from 
making long speeches.' " In this ephem- 
ei-al miuistry, which was destined to 
disappear in the great, glad, and pacific 
tunmlt of a few days later, M. Clement 
Duvernois, a journalist of some distinc- 
tion, who had been won over to the 
Emiiire, and who had been ]iaid enor- 
mous sums, as tlie Imperial docnraents 



EURUPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



221 



at the Tuilei'ies afterwards showed, 
for writing up the Empire iu liis journal, 
was minister of agriculture. Barou 
Jerome David, devoted to the Euipiri', 
aud a determined enemy of liberty in all 
its forms, was iu a promiueiit post; ami 
the ministry of Foreign Affairs was held 
by the Fi'ince de la Tour d'Auvergne. 
But the populace cared for nothing but 
the ministry of war, and poor Count De 
Palikao led a sad life until he was dis- 
missed out of public notice by the decla- 
ration of the Republic. 

The first definite outcropiiing of the 
Commune was iu mid-August, when an 
energetic attack was made on some 
firemen's barracks on the Boulevard de 
la Villette ; and the insurgents were 
almost successful in getting possession 
of some rifles, but, failing in this, re- 
treated upon Belleville, calling the citi- 
zens all along the roads to arms. Oddly 
enough they were mistaken for Prus- 
sians, for the women and children of the 
Belleville quarter were firmly persuaded 
tliat the Germans were close at hand, 
the moment they saw guns and iiistols 
and signs of fighting. In this foolish, 
almost criminal effort to provoke civil 
war the veteran revolutionist Blauqui, 
who had spent the greater part of his 
life in prison, was implicated. The chief 
actoi's in this little insurrection were 
conrt-martialled, and sis of them were 
sentenced to be shot; most of the others 
to different terms of imprisonment. 
Michelet aud George Sand both protested 
against the execution. During the sec- 
ond week in August, the Parisians 
managed to catch a veritable Prussian 
spy, after having arrested innumerable 
foreigners in their search for spies ; and 
this oflflcer was shot in one of the court- 
yards of the jMilitMry School on the 
Champ de Mars on the STth of August, 
at six o'clock in the morning. He boldly 



declared that he had been sent by his 
government to secure the plans of for- 
tresses and the preparations of defense 
in the south of France, and, a mo- 
ment before he was shot, he slowly 
pKiuounced the words, '■'■Fur Vater- 
liiiid." 

Meantime scattered and imperfect 
news of the gigantic battles aiound 
Metz came into the capital ; but it was 
so indisputalily true that the French iiad 
in the majority of these encounters held 
their own In'avely and infiicted tremen- 
dous losses on the enemy that these 
later reports were not considered dis- 
coiu'aging. The Parisians of all classes 
lived iu constant expectation of a de- 
spatch which should announce the crush- 
ing of the Prussian invaders between 
two great French armies and the close 
of the campaign in the hasty retreat of 
the Germans across the frontier which 
they had violated. M. de Girardin 
wrote in his journal about conductiug 
the Germans back to the Rhine with the 
blows of nuisket-liutts on their backs. 
The only man who seemed to have a 
clear and definite notion of the situation, 
and to have the courage to speak the 
truth about it at all times, was the aged 
M.Thiers. He became a member of the 
Committee of Defense, on the I'Tth of 
August. I sometimes think tliat he 
had private sources of information, 
which he did not avow, for he was cer- 
tainly better informed than nine-tenths 
of the politicians who surrounded him. 
When the question of sending MacMahon 
with his array of Clullons into the nortii- 
east was discussed, he spoke out ear- 
nestly against it. " This," he said, " is 
taking our last army and sending it to 
perish in the Ardennes. You have got 
one marshal lilockaded," he told them ; — 
" you will soon have two." 

The discussion as to the movements 



222 



EUROrE hY STORM AXD CALM. 



of till' iinnies in tliu field was reiu'wcd 
with luiicli vidlcnce for several days after 
this deliate of the 27th; and M. Thiers 
has left it on record that, while he was 
making an energetie speech abont one 
o'clock on the morning of Saturday, the 
;3d of September, M. Jerome David took 
him liy the hand and whispered in his 
ear, " M. Thiers, do not go any farther 
at present. I would like to speak with 
you a moment." The session of the 
Council was at ouce bronght to a close, 
and M. David and M. Thiers stepped 
down into the street together, when the 
former said, " The Empeior is a pris- 
oner ; MacMahon is mortally wounded." 
M. Thiers stood (jnite still for a few min- 
utes, struck with consternation, and 
quite stupefied ; but he could, without 
fear of reproach, truly have said, " I 
could have told you that this would hap- 
pen." 

In tiic morning a Council of IMinis- 
ters was held at the Tuilcries, and a 
despatch, coming through the Ha\ as 
Agency, brought the news from Brussels ; 
but it was carefully kept from the peoiile. 
There was another session at five o'clock, 
and then the Empress, who had refused 
up to that time to believe the unlucky 
truth, herself laid before the minister the 
despatch of the Emperor, saying, " The 
army has capitulated, and I am a pris- 
oner." All this time, the populace was 
rejoicing at the Slock Exchange over 
telegrams announcing that the French 
army had gained another advantage upon 
the enemy ; bnt the popular sentiment 
was rertcctiMl in a remark made to me on 
thai morning by a Parisian, who said, 
with :i hitter smile, " If we gain such 
ijreat victories, why don't the generals 
send a few prisoners to the capital?" 
This was Saturday. On Fiiday evening, 
as I walked through the city, I felt that 
some ti'vcat calamity w-as overwhelming 



Paris. A thrill of excited suspense was 
visible on all sides. Everybody bought 
papers, pai)ers, papeis, and rca<l the 
llaming edit(jrials, printed in huge letters, 
with a line and a half to each paragraph, 
until they were tired. The tlu'atres were 
deserted, despite Madame Agar's attrac- 
tive rendering of the " iMarseillaise." 
Even the TheAtre Frau^ais had but a 
sligiit audience. The environs of tlie 
Cor/in Lt'ijislatifTiverc crowded with news- 
hungry [leople. On Saturday, about 
noon, numerous i)rocessioiis of workmen, 
moving quietly, were observed with 
some ai)[)rehension. r>ut these people 
explained that they were organizing 
themselves into military companies for 
the defence of the city. Now and tlien 
a man was heard violently declaiming 
against the government because it had 
not given the people guns. " Here are 
eight hundreil thousand men in Paris," 
said one spealier, " native to the soil, 
strong-armed, intensely patriotic, asking 
for guns to drive the invaders from the 
doors, and the government says, ' You 
nmst fold yonr arms and be shot down.' " 

Late in tiie afternoon, the terrible news 
began to be known. First came a report, 
which ran through the cnfis and along 
the boulevards like a flash of lightning, 
that Belgian neutrality had been vio- 
lated, that French and Prussians had 
fought on Belgian soil, and that new 
ci)m|)lications were likely to arise. 

Presently, pale-faced messengers be- 
gan to arrive from the Place de la Con- 
corde at the great universal rendezcotis 
of the Parisian loafers of distinction, the 
section between the Caf6 de la Paix and 
the Cafe Riche, announcing that the 
Corjhs IJijiahttif were going into secret 
session ; tliat the whole of MacMahon's 
army had been taken ; that he himself 
had been shot through the body ; that 
Ceneral De Wimpffeu had disgracefully 



KUliOrE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



22;5 



capitulated ; and, HuaUy, tliat tlio Km- 
peror was a pvisoucr. 

Meantime tlie Empress had sent M. 
Merim^e, a literaiy man of inlinite 
talent, and who was her intimate friend, 
to supplicate M. Thiers 
to take the government 
into his hands. As M. 
Merim(5e did notsueceed, 
she sent in 1\I. de Metter- 
nich ; but he had no bet- 
ter luck with the fiery 
old man, whose diminu- 
tive figure was now be- 
ginning to assume the 
importauce it deserved in 
the eyes of his disorgan- 
ized countrymen. JUL 
Jules Simon, Jules Favre, 
Picard, and others urged 
M. Thiers to accept the 
Empress's proposition 
when he came down to 
the session of the Corps 
Likjislatif ov\ the 3d. But 
M. Thiers was deaf to all 
entreaties, and seemed 
to be looking I)eyond 
with prophetic gaze to 
greater events, for whicli 
he wished to save all his 
stock of strengtii. At 
the session, the Count De 
Palikao astonished all his 
colleagues by the refresh- 
ingly cool manner in 
which he climbed into the 
tribune, and announced 
that Marshal Bazainc, after a vigorous fight 
of eight or nine hours, had been obliged 
to retreat under the walls of jMetz. lie 
added, as if it had been a matter of 
trifling consequence, that tiiere had been 
a battle at .Sedan, " and we have thrown 
a part of the Prussian army into tlie 
river Meuse ; but finally we were, it 



appears, overwlielnied by iiumljers, 
and some few of our soldiers have been 
crowded over into the Belgian ter- 
ritory." This effrontery was sjieedily 
unmasked liy Jules Favre, who said that 




THE EN'D OF THE EMPIRE.— 
.\SS.\UI.T 1!V POLICE ON 
CITIZENS IN THE BOULE- 
VAIiD BONINTItOUVELLE. 



the time had come to know where the 
government was. '• Wljcre," he said, 
'■ is the Emperor? Is he in commu- 
nieation with his ministers ? Can he 
give orders to them?" The minister of 
war answered '"No." "Then." said 
Jules Favre with his finest ircjny, " the 
answer that the Minister of AVar has 



224 



EriKM'E IX STORM AXD CALM. 



given Hie siillices, and we may \vn\c 
this great question out of tlie deliate, 
tlie government lia\ing ceased to exist." 
Here tlie president of tlie assemlily 
thought it his duty to protest against 
sueh words, whereupon Jules Favre 
turned upon him like a lion, and said : 
" Trotest as mneh as you wish, iSIr. 
President. Protest against fate, whicli 
has betrayed us ; deny events ; say that 
we are victors; do as you like; Imt 
what wi^ want now, and what is indis- 
pensable and wise, is the effacing of all 
l>arties brfori' one name representing 
Paris, a military name, tlie name of a 
man who can take in hand the defense 
of tiie conntry." I'hese remarks pro- 
duced great agitation, and shortly 
afterwards the session broke u[>, after 
having voted a night sitting. 

It was one o'clock in the morning when 
the deputies met again. Outside the 
palace of the Corps U'ljishilif, thousands 
upon thousands of men and women were 
waiting, — -waiting for they knew not 
what, too anxious, lest the next few 
hours might lu'ing the horrors of civil 
war, for it was no secret that lilanqui, 
Deleschize, Felix Pyat, Verniorel, Mil- 
lii^'re, and others, who were destined to 
bo so famous or infamous in the Insur- 
rection of 187 1, were hard at work trying 
to organize a popular revolt. Without 
any pri'iiminary rhetoric, the Blinister 
of War made an ollicial announcement 
to tlie deputies of the capitulation of 
the aiiny, and Ihe fact th;it liie Kinperor 
had delivered himself up as prisoner. 
Witiiout making any suggestion or 
apology he stepped down from the 
tribune and took his seat. Jules Favre 
immediately' arose, and, taking tlie [ilace 
left vacant by tlie IMiiiisterof War, asked 
permission to make a proposition. As 
soon as he had received permission, ho 
said, " We a.sk of the t'haniber im- 



iiu'(liatc consideration for tlie following 
motion : — 

" ' Article 1. Louis Napoleon Bonaparte 
and his dynasty are declared divested of the 
]Hiwers that the ConstiUition had conferred upon 
llieni. 

" ' Article L'. There shall be named by 
the Corps Lcgis/atif a government committee 
eomposed of a eertain number of members 
taken from the majority, who shall be invested 
witli the powers to govern, and who shall have 
for their express mission resistanee to the 
uttermost to the invaders, and the delivery of 
the territory out of the enemy's hands. 

"'Article 3. General Trochu is main- 
tained in his post as Governor-General of the 
city of Paris.' " 

This motion, signed by all the memtiers 
of the Republican Opposition, was at 
first received in profound sileiu'c ; but 
M. Favre, before he left the Iribune, 
recommended the deputies to slce|) over 
it, and " to-morrow," he said, " at noon, 
we shall have the honor to give you the 
imperious reasons which api)ear to us to 
recommend the adoption of the meas- 
ure to every good patriot." The night 
session had lasted just twenty minutes. 
" It seemed," said one of the men who 
was present, " as long as a century." 

A singular thing liai)|iened on this 
morning of the 4th of September: as 
Jules Favre w;is going home, the crowd 
followed iiini, shouting out insults for the 
fallen Empire, and clamoring for the 
declaration of the downfall of file dy- 
nasty. Wiien Jules Favre had passed 
along, the crowd remained shouting, dis- 
cussing, singing, and quarrelling, until 
the police thought it necessary to clear 
the people away from the Pont de la 
Concorde. This provoked the people, 
who were ali'eady in a state of tremen- 
dous excitement ; there was some rougli 
handling of the police agents ; an alarm 
was sounded ; the ;j;ates of the Tuilerics, 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



225 



the Place du Carrousel, and the Louvre 
were closed ; the troops were confined to 
barracks ; the agitation reached the 
grand boulevards, and opposite the 
Gvninase Theatre, a squad of police, 
who evidently thought they were to be 
attacked, discharged their revolvers into 
a dense crowd, and then fell upon the 



people, sword an<l cluli in hand. There 
were numerous victims. 

" The Empire," said one of the eye- 
witnesses of this affair near the Gym- 
uase, "was destined to finish as it had 
begun, — with au attack upon an un- 
armed mass." 



226 



£L'llorE IX STOEM ASD CALM. 



CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR. 

The Declaration of the Eepul>lic. — E\(-itiiif,' Scenesi on the Place de la Concorde and tlie Bniilcvard'^. — In- 
vasion of the Corps LtUjUlatif. — Gamhetta Prononnces the Downfall of the Imperial Family. — The 
Procession to the Hotel de ViUe. — The Fli;_'ht of tlie Empress. 



SATURDAY night wns an niixi.nis 
time for the memliers of tlie Reiuili- 
licaii Op[)ositioii in the Corpx IJ'(jishitif. 
T'hey phxiuly saw that they wei-e to be 
left aloue to build up a government on 
the ruins into which the Empire had sud- 
denly crumbled, and they dreaded lest 
some sudden excitement, some misunder- 
standing, should Itring about civil war 
and anarchy, which the disciples of the 
repi'essive theory had predicted as certain 
the moment that tlie weights were re- 
moved. As }'ou cannot touch pitcli 
without being defiled, so the Repulili- 
cans of ardent convictions and linn 
principles, bytiie very necessity of neigli- 
borhood during the long period of the 
Emi)ire. had become in some measure 
infected with the Imperial notions of 
'• order," and they were almost inclined 
to distrust themselves at the moment 
that power was t(.> be placed in their 
hands. 

Nothing dreailfnl, however, liappened 
during Saturday night. Policemen were 
hustled and bonneted, and some of them 
might have been thrown into the Seine 
had they not, in obedience to the dicta- 
tion of the crowds, thrown away tlieir 
rapiers and tied to their liomes to get rid 
of their hated imiforms as soon as 
possible. Pietri. the Imperial Prefect 
of Police, who was almost universally 
execrated, was loudly called for by the 
masses, and. had lu' been im|irudent 
enough to show himself, might liave 
been torn to pieces. I heard his name 



nicutionc'd luindrcds of times during a 
walk through these excited crowds en 
the Saturday evening in (piestion. Singu- 
larly enough no one seemed to know 
where Pietri was. Some said he was 
with the Empress at the Tuileries ; others 
tliat he was arresteil witli Nai^oleon at 
Sedan, and that the German government 
was to give him the worst late that could 
befall him, — delivery into the hands of 
those whom he had so long i)ersecuted. 
Foreigners were not much to the taste of 
these crowds, and Americans and Eng- 
lishmen sometimes found themselves 
surrounded by mol>s, who insisted on 
hearing them sing a bar of the " Mar- 
sellaise," an<l shout for the Republic. 
In case tliey refused to give these proofs 
of tlieir good-will, they were hustled and 
sometimes carried off to the police sta- 
tions as presumed spies. Many people 
in these throngs had nuns, and .some 
were armed with revolvers. This wear- 
ing of weajions by people who would 
have considered such a proceeding as 
improper had they lieen living under a 
different system was adopted as the 
th'st .symptom of liberation from tlie 
nyiiiu^ which had now been definitely 
condemned, and was soon to be suc- 
ceeded by a more liberal one. 

The Emiiire, which had made so many 
objections to letting private citizens bear 
arms or keei) them in their houses, had 
in bSdS done the verv tiling which ri'ii- 
dered the insurrection of 1871 so easy. 
It had created the National Guard Mo- 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



227 



hilo, which was about five hundred and tlio capital. Tliere were comprised with- 

flfLy thousaud stron"-, divided into hat- in tlic limits of this organization all 

talions, companies, and batteries. This classes of society, — • the rich shop-keeper 

force was created by Napoleon III. on and professional men of the Rue de 

the proposition of Marsiial Niel, who la Pais and the Opera Quarter, the house 

was then Minister of War, and in virtue owners and the retired merchants of the 




THE IMPERIAL POLICE PllOTECTED UV TUE UEPULJLIC-VN (iL'AKD. 



of a law voted )>y tlie Corps Li'gislntif 
on the 1st of February, 1868. The 
maximum effective of each battalion of 
this National Guard was two thousand 
men, forminsr eight companies of two 
hundred and fifty men each, at the time 
of the downfall of the Empire; and for 
nearly the wdiole of the period of the 
siege of Paris and the Commune, almost 
three hundred thousand men of this Na- 
tional Guard were within the walls of 



Place VcndOme and the Cliamps Klysees, 
as well as the lialf-educated and am- 
bitious artisans of Belleville and La 
^'illeUe. These elements, hostile to each 
other, — the same elements, wliicliby their 
inharmonious clashing in previous periods 
of trouble had caused bloodshed and 
temporary anarchy, — were to be cooix'd 
u|i in a besieged city for long months, 
their really splendid forces never to be 
utilized against tiie enemy because their 



22H 



ErROPE IX STORM AXP CALM. 



fomiHaiidiT feart'il tlint if they wmi :i 
iiattle against the (tcrmans tlu'}' wdiiIiI 
turn about and [Moclaiin a govurnnn-nt of 
tlieir own in Paris. It is not astonisliiug 
tliat these classes, hating, ahnost al)omi- 
nating eacli other, linding lliemselves 
equally well armed, and having had their 
senses exeited by the continuous specta- 
cle of the ravages of war, should have 
come together in hostile collision after 
the great struggle against the enemy was 
over, and while the wreckage of the war 
was being cleared away. 

Representatives of the upper and of 
the lower classes of Parisian societ3-, 
equipped in their uniforms of the Na- 
tional Guard, and with tlieir muskets on 
their backs, were very ninuerous among 
the crowds on Saturday night. The 
lir()|)crty-holding class was on the alert, 
and had taken possession of all the ap- 
proaches to the Coi-jin Li;(jidatiJ\ and 
managed to keep its ground on Sunday 
morning, although M. Jules Simon tells 
us that when he came to pick his way 
through the throng waiting in front of 
the Palais P>()urlii)n, at eleven o'clock on 
the morning of the 4th of September, the 
adherents of Blauqui and Delescluze, the 
Communists, in short, were very thick 
about the gates and door-waj's. In the 
ej'es of these passionate and vindictive 
apostles of a socialistic government, the 
members of the Left, who were very i>oii- 
ular among all other classes, were con- 
demned as " Moderates," and as men to 
be despised. ]\Iany an arti.san, who 
afterwards appeared behind the barri- 
cades of the Commune, hurled scornful 
re})roacheB at Simon and his colleagues 
as they maile their way into the mid-day 
session. 

The impression on the grand boule- 
vards, which were blocked with immense 
throngs of the wealthy and prosi)erous 
class on Sunday morning, was that there 



woulil be civil war before nightfall. To 
walk through these collections of chatter- 
ing, gesticulating, pale-laced |)eople, and 
to hear them furiously disputing each 
other's notions, enabled oui' to place 
but moderate reliance upon their com- 
bined action, if such action were nec- 
essary. The enemy was at the door ; 
Mont ^'alerien was insulHciently armed ; 
General Vinoy was coming to Paris 
with an army which must be taken care 
of ; the cartridges in the Imi)erial arse- 
nals were lilled with sand : what was 
to lie done ? AVould the movement for 
a Ivcpulilic degenerate into mere noise, 
and bloodshed, and stiqiid efferves- 
cence of ignorant enthusiasm ? A little 
liefore noon, on this 4th of September, 
the papers made the announcement of 
the Emperor's surrender, very generally, 
and nearly every man and woman whom 
one iiieton the boulevards or on the Place 
de la Concorde had purchased a paper, 
and was reading it intently. There was 
no laughter, but little noise, and no 
jostling. The crowds grew in numbers 
momentarily. Every one was in an at- 
titude of suspense, to which was added a 
certain fear, the fear of that siiectre 
which had arisen so many times with 
bloody hands to push back that liberty, 
so longed for, but seemingly so uuat- 
taiiialile in France. 

Jules Simon says that at noon on the 
4th of Seiitemlier a single misunder- 
standing, an angry movement on the 
part of a commander of any troops, 
would have been sutlieieut to occasion 
a general massacre. "What we had to 
avoid at any price," he says, " was 
civil war, the people of France against 
the French, while the soil was in- 
vaded by the stranger. This wiis the 
opinion of the Left, who, felt that 
the throne had tumbled to pieces; and 
it was also the opinion of the majority', 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



229 



who understood that the throne could 
no longer be defended, and who luid 
ceased to wish that it niigiit. It was 
doubtless this thought, that there was 
no longer any Empire, and that the 
supreme duty was to avoid a collision, 
which tempted the dejiuties of the ma- 
jority to demand that the regular troops 
should be removed from the Palais 
Bourbon." 

This measure having been executed, 
the National Guard was placed in pos- 
session. The oflicers and soldiers of 
the regidar troops were in a delicate 
position. They had heard that the Re- 
public had already lieen proclaimed at 
Lyons and Marseilles, and that there the 
army had fraternized with the people, 
but they were still under the shadow of 
their oath of allegiance to the Empire, 
and, ignorant of the real course of events 
beyond the walls of Paris, they were in- 
capable of forming a speedy decision. 
.Still, at the Napoleon Barracks, the 
crowd which had cried out " Vixe la Rt'- 
2}ubJiqiie!" to the soldiers at the win- 
dows was answered by the same words. 
A little later on, a regiment which had 
been sent to the square of the IlOtel de 
Ville disbanded, turned the luitts of its 
muskets into the air, and mingled with 
the crowd. This was soon heard on the 
Place de la Concorde, and hundreds of 
soldiers broke ranks and disa[i[teared 
right and left. 

Now came in long procession thou- 
sands of workmen and workwomen 
from La Villette, the women marching 
arm-in-arm with the men, singing loudly, 
and generally carrying a flag in one 
Laud. Tricolored badges began to ap- 
pear, and were sold by thousands, the 
boldest putting them on at once, others 
carrying them in their hands, as if wait- 
ing for a decisive moment. I saw a 
young man climb on to the statue of 



Strasbourg, in the Place de la Concorde, 
and crown the rather gloomy ligure 
which personates the ravished city with 
laurel. This was the origin of the cus- 
tom which has since been so religiously 
maintained — that of decorating with 
wreaths and immoiidles, with flags, and 
with crowns of laurel, this statue yeariiy 
year. 

Along the great Place the rumor 
ran that the Corps Li'f/ishitif was to 
receive the abdication of the Empress at 
one o'clock. " Why," said a huge mar- 
ket-woman, dressed in hei' liest, and 
with an umbrella which w^as large cnongh 
to cover a dozen people, " why should 
the woman abdicate when we have abdi- 
cated her?" 

Every half hour or so the crowd surged 
back from side to side, leaving a path 
clear for regiments just coming in from 
Lyons, or Turcos, newly arrived from 
Algeria, — men who had been hurried up 
to be thrown against the Prussians, and 
who were destined ingloriously to remain 
inside of Paris or just outside its walls 
for months thereafter. Towards one 
o'clock, ten thousand men from the 
Faulionrg St. Martin came down the 
grand boulevards, each man w ith a gun 
on his shoulder, and the sho|)-keepers 
immediately began to put up their shut- 
ters. Inside, in the great court-yard of 
the Palais Bourbon, the members of 
the Opposition and of the majority stood 
trembling with excitement, while Jules 
Fa^•re, with his long black hair thrown 
back, and his brows covered with |ier- 
spiratiou, made a tremendous radical 
speech, intended to ingratiate the blue 
and wdiite bloused men swarming up to his 
extemporized platform, which they at 
last broke down. The Deputies were 
informed that at least one hundred and 
fifty thousand men were assembled on 
the Place de la Concorde ; that fullv 



230 



ECllOl'E IX STORM AXP CAL.U. 



one-foiirtli "f tlieni were ainii'il : tlint 
the faulioiiro-s were out; that iilood 
was u[) ; that the peojiK' bad eoine 
to claim its own jteaeealily. or with 
elainor and bloodslieil, as tliey iiiiglit 
deeide. 

Ill the great Salle des Pas PenUis, 
Jules Favre towered up above the other 
deputies, who were inspired to calmness 
by the serenity of his face. It was ob- 
served that many members of the late 
triumphant and Imperial Right were 
missing. Many had (led under various 
pretexts ; some, that they had gone to 
learn the real facts of the affair at 
Sedan, others, to lonk after their [irop- 
erty, which was in danger, as it lay on 
the line of the German army's march. 
IJut few of them had, like the meinlieis 
of the Senate, the courage to disappear 
without any bravado. By-and-by the 
doors of the legislative hall were thrown 
open, and the Left entered tranquilly in a 
body, with Father Raspail blowing his 
nose very like a sonorous trumpet of de- 
fiance. The session was opened shortly 
after one o'clock, and M. De Palikao, 
with his usual coolness, stepped liriskly 
into the triliune, and proposed that a 
council of government of National 1\'- 
fense should be constituted, consisting 
of five members, each member lieiiig 
named by an abscjliite maj(.iiity of the 
Corps L^'iji.sldtif; that tiie ministers 
should be named under the ausi)iees of 
the members of this Council; and that 
General Count De Palikao should be 
the Lieutenant-general of the Councils. 
The tempest which this piece of ef- 
frontery raised is ln'tter iiiiagined than 
described. Tht' uproarious and con- 
temptuous laughter with which De Pali- 
kao's jiroject was finally greet('(l must 
have convinced him that it woiilil 1h' in- 
judicious to press it. The Left t(.)olc 
immediate advantage of the situation, 



and. after a siieech of .Tides Favre, M. 
Thiers otfeicil his project of law, whicii 
was, '■tiiat, in \'ie\v of the present circuin- 
stances. the Cliamlter shall name a com- 
mission tVir government and national 
defense, and the constitutional assem- 
lily shall be convoked as soon as events 
will iierinit." 

It was at this inoineiit that Gambetta, 
who had iKjt [ilayed a very conspicuous 
part in the iiroceedings of the last few 
days, appeared upon the .scene, and iu a 
vigorous speech insisted that the Cham- 
ber should decide upon M. Thiers's prop- 
osition forthwith. He took into his 
hands the business of the day. As the 
result of his speech the Chamber voted 
urgency on the [iropositions, and sent 
them before a committee. ^Meantime 
the session was siis[K'nded. It is prcjb- 
able that on this Committee of National 
Defense certain members of the t)ld 
Imperial party would have lieeu [ilaced, 
if, while the proposition was under eou- 
sideration, the crowd had not stepped in 
and given tlie final tumble to the card- 
house of the Em|Mre. 

The manifestation which ended in the 
invasion of the Corps L'''ji!^liilif was be- 
gun by a company of National Guards, 
who were standing near the iron railing 
in front of the palace, an<l who cried out 
•' Lii Di'i-lu'Kiti'c ! Lit l)ec/i('(<nc(' !" or the 
impeachment of the Imperial family. 
A\'liile they were shouting, tliej' beckoned 
to other National Guards nearer the 
bridge over the Seine at this |)oiut to 
come and join them. The Municipal 
cavalry, which were posted at the en- 
trance of the liridge on the quay, drew 
its sabres, and for a moment there was 
danger of a sanguinary collision. But 
the battalions of the National (Uiard 
kept crowding on and on, without re- 
gard for the naked sabres, and the crowd 
pressed behind them, now murmuring. 



EUROPE ly STORM AND CALM. 



231 



The soldiers saw that it was dangerous 
to resist tiiom. 

At tiie head of tlio National Guard 
were many men of distinction and posi- 
tion, among' tlicm BI. Edmond Adam, 
later a senator and influential member of 
the Republican party- The hum rose 
siowlj- and almost ma.iestic;dly until it 
burst out into a great cry of " Vive la 
Repuhliqve!" This was carried back- 
ward across the Place de la Concorde, 
and up the boulevards, the peoi)le at 
some distance from the scene naturally 
supposing that the Republic 
had been declared. Pres- 
ently, the doors of the Legis- 
lative Palace were burst open, 
and the impetuous 
throngs ruslied in, 
pushing aside, as if 
they had been made 
of straw, the few 
guardians at the doors. 
The president, M. 
Schneider, pale as a 
ghost, stood looking 
down on the motley 
collection of individ- 
uals, who suddenly had 



Gambetta next came forward, and 
witli a few skilful sentences brought 
order out of this chaos, which promised 



t 



space in front of him. But he said 
no word. 

M. Cremieux, a Repulilican, univer- 
sally respected by all classes and very 
popular among the masses, popped up in 
his place, and said, " My dear friends, 
you all know me. I am Citizen Cre- 
mieux. We are very busy, just now." 
But it was not M. Cremieux's day. for 
there was a roar of ••Vii'd la Repub- 
lique ! " and he sat down, looking some- 
what disconcerted. In the galleries, 
which were now thronged with men in 
blouses, and with men in broadcloth, the 
same cry of " Vice Id Ri^piibliqiie" was 
heard, and the graceful foldsof atricolored 
flag were waved above the assembly. 




led the 



THE PRESIDENT OF THE CORPS LI5GISLATIP 
WATCHING THE INVASION. 

to be so dangerous. " Citizens," he 
said, " you can now offer a grand spec- 
tacle — that of people uniting order with 
liberty." He then gave a quick and 



232 



EUROPE IX STORM AXE CAL.V. 



picturesque sketch of 'n'hat the assembly 
expected to do, aud suggested that a 
group of citizens should take the re- 
spousihility of maiutainiog order into 
its own liands, so that the deputies might 
uot be disturbed in tlie discharge of tlieir 
duties. President Schneider thouglit it 
proper to second the proposition of 
Gamlietta ; but when he added that he 
thouglit he had also renilered to the 
country and to liberty service enough to 
have the right to address them, there 
were derisive cheers, which were echoed 
through the halls outside, and which left 
him no whit in doul)t as to his loss of 
prestige. Preseutly, the great door op- 
posite the tribune, which had defied tlie 
efforts of the invaders, opened, and the 
deputies who tried to keep back the crowd, 
were upset ; many of them were hurled 
over the desks, and nothing could lie 
heard but ■• J'ice /a Bepiiblique ! '' JI. 
Schneider thought it imprudent to re- 
main longer, and he was scarcely out of 
his presidential desk before half a dozen 
citizens were in it ; and they would have 
done him mischief could they have got 
at him. It was said, on the afternoon 
of this day, that he had received a l)low 
on the head from a citizen who was 
somewhat the worse for ahsiiitlw, and 
that he fell covered with blood and was 
taken away by his colleagues; l)ut this 
was subsecpientl}' proved to be untrue. 
There was much ringing of the presiden- 
tial bell liv young workmen, who wanti'il 
to make s|ieeclies to the crowd ; but 
Jules Favre drove out all these intruders, 
and, finally, (Jamlietta, in his most im- 
pressive tones, cried, *' Have you any 
confidence in your representatives?" to 
which the rather illogical answer came, 
" Yes, yes; we have confidence enough 
in yon." — "Well, then, retire when I 
ask you to do so, and be sure that we shall 
pronounce the downfall ! " — " Yes. but 



how about the Republic?" cried a 
voice. 

Eye-witnesses of this singular scene 
say that at this cjuestion Gambetta, who 
had been halting between two opinions 
all the morning, and who was intensely 
anxious that this revolution should be 
accomplished withiu the strict limit of 
the law, suddenly assumed a new de- 
meanor, as if he felt that the mantle of 
his mission had f.allen upon him, and, 
stepping forward aud commanding si- 
lence by that imperious gesture which 
afterwards liecame so familiar to the 
jieople of France, he said, " Citi- 
zens," — and at his first word the si- 
lence was completely reestablished, — ■ 
" considering that the country is in dan- 
ger, considering that the proper time has 
been given to the national representatives 
to pronouiK'e the downfall of the Impe- 
rial familv. considering that we are 
and that we constitute a regular power 
issued from universal suffrage, we now 
declare that Louis Xapoleou Bonaparte 
aud his dynasty have forever ceased to 
reign in France." 

These ringing words, uttered liy the 
man wlio had been the first to lirave the 
anger and the vengeance of the Empire, 
and who had liegun the revolution which 
now culniiuated, were saluted with bravos 
innuuiei-able and with renewed shouts 
of '• ]'ire hi. lli'piiUiqxc !" "No more 
Einpiri';" "The J^mpire has fallen 
forever; " "The DMihiKcefiViit, the Re- 
public afterwards," etc. Now the drum- 
mers of the National Guard, who had 
lieen standing at the entrance of the 
Chamber, liegau to beat their drums, 
and to clamor for immediate departure 
for the H6tel de Ville. This sounded 
ominous, and Jules Favre made an 
earnest speech, which he finished by 
saying, " Do yon, or do you not, want 
civil war ? " 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



233 




234 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



Iluiidreils of voices nnswoicd, ■' No, 
no ; not civil war ; war with tlic Prus- 
sians onl_y." — '-Tiicn," said Jules Favre, 
" we must have a provisional gov- 
crument fortliwith." — "To the Hotel 
de Ville! To the Hotel de Ville ! " 
cried a voice. M. Favre continued 
speaking until a youth suddenly appeared 
in the tribune behind him, and shouted 
at the top of his voice, "The RepuWic ! 
the Republic ! Let us declare it here ! " A 
few of the National Guards tried to make 
this enthusiastic youth come down ; but 
he pounded the desk and continued to 
shriek, " The Repnlilic ! The Republic 
forthwith ! " Presently, a voice below 
took up the refrain ; and then it was 
that Gambotta stepped forward, and 
said, "Yes; long live the Republic! 
Let us go, citizens, and proclaim it at 
the Hotel de Ville ! " Down upon their 
knees went quick-witted citizens, marking 
ujiou great sheets of paiier that the}- 
had taken from the deputies' desks, 
"To the Hotel de Ville!" "The Re- 
public is declared." One gentleman 
even wrote — and Heaven and himself 
only know why, — on a placard, this 
statement, " The Republic is pi'oclaimed 
by 18.') votes against 11.3." But there 
was really no voting at all. No one 
ventured to vote against the people's 
wish. 

As the men in blouses bearing the 
[ilacards came toiling up the boulevards, 
the excitement was verv' great. Return- 
ing hastily from the Place de la Con- 
corde, I was at the Grand HOtel jnst in 
time to see a regiment of soldiers, which 
was marching steadily down the boule- 
vards, met face to face by a solid mass 
of blue-liloused and solid-looking men, 
singing loudly and brandishing their 
guns. No one knew what was tlie inten- 
tion of either party, and people on the 
sidewalks were l)eginuiug to run :iway, 



when suddenly the leader at the head of 
the crowd of workmen reversed his 
musket. His example was followed by 
the thousands liehind him, and in a 
minute the regiment of soldiers coming 
the other way had done the same thing. 
In less than two minutes, soldiers and 
people were fraternizing together with 
twigs of laurel in the muzzles of their 
guns. Hands were clasped in token of 
friendship ; .and an old Frenchman near 
me said, " This is the grandest specta- 
cle ever seen iu France." 

The relief from suspense was very 
great, and when it became generally 
known that the army had made uo en- 
deavor to prevent the accomplishment 
of the Revolution, men, women, and 
children, delicate aged ladies, shop- 
keepers, professional men, foreigners — 
all went pell-mell to the Tuileries, where 
the people had gathered in its might, as 
it had gathered twice before at the 
downfall of arbitrary power within less 
than ninety years. 

At the Tuileries there were very few 
signs of life at the windows of the Impe- 
rial Palace, but there were anxious 
hearts within. The Empress had main- 
tained her courage remarkably well up 
to the last moment. She had been 
determined from the first that the Em- 
peror should not return to Paris. "He 
would be murdered," she said. Yet 
she ai)pears to have had little fear for 
herself until this Sunday afternoon. 
The people sent their s[)okesmau with a 
flag of truce to parley with tiie colonel 
commanding the forces before the Tuil- 
eries. Ho Ihially consented to withdraw, 
only reserving to himself tlie right to 
fire ui)on the crowd if any violence were 
done. But nobody paid any attention 
to the conditions wbieli he wished t<> 
impose. He was pushed aside, and the 
throngs rau throusjh the gravelled alleys 



EUnOPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



235 



of the garden, past the statues, up 
the steps, and to the innermost rooms 
of the palace. Guards wearing tiie tri- 
color were posted at each side of the 
main entrance, and as the tumultuous 
masses pushed their way in, they begged 
them to be calm and do no mischief ; and 
members of the sanitary corps stood on 
the steps collecting money for the 
wounded. The flag that ordinarily 
denoted the presence of the Imperial 
family at the palace was taken down, 
and on the pedestals of all statues, and 
over the gates of the Rue do Rivoli, was 
written up in chalk, " Vice la licpuh- 
liqne!" "Apartments to let;" "Mr. 
Napoleon has gone to a German water- 
ing-place;" and, finally, "Death to 
robbers and thieves ! " a sentence which 
was intended as a gentle hint to the 
rabble to behave. Hundreds of women 
of all classes crowded into the private 
apartments of the Empress, and curiously 
examined everything that was left. The 
rooms were iu great confusion. Boxes 
were scattered about, and servants were 
engaged in packing, paying little atten- 
tion to the angry comments of the people. 
The Emperor's private caljinet was tlie 
next room visited ; and there the pulilic 
found everything methodically arranged. 
It had been Napoleon's habit for many 
years to work in a room quite shut off 
from any part of the palace, almost im- 
permeable to noise. There, with the 
little Prince, he had spent hours, daily, 
for the last few years when in Paris. 
The book iu which the Prince had taken 
a history lesson before his departure 
was open on one of the tables, and his 
exercise had been the commission to 
memory of the fact that, at a certain 
epoch of the First Empire, frivolity, cor- 
ruption, and lust ])revailed in high places. 
On the Emperor's desk were maps of 
Prussia and some toy-tigures of German 



soldiers, — dangerous toys they had 
proven to the Empire ! 

The Count d'H^risson, an alile and 
gallant otlicer, who was in the first French 
expedition to China, and who was a mem- 
ber of the general staff during the de- 
fense of Paris, has left on record the 
best account, publislied quite recently, 
of the flight of the Empress from the 
Tuileries. It appears that the Empress 
was decided, by the entreaties of Prince 
de Metternich and the Chevalier Nigra, 
who often visited her at the Tuileries 
during the last terrible days, to leave 
Paris and the remains of the Impeiial 
wreck. About two o'clock of the after- 
noon on the 4th of September, Prince de 
Metternich and his colleague, and M. 
de Lesseps, who was a pretty constant 
visitor to the palace, succeeded in j)re- 
vailing on the Empress to depart. " The 
last two weeks that the poor lady passed 
iu the Tuileries," says the Count d'Heris- 
sou, " had been a long torture, a veri- 
table mortal agony. Scarcely an hour 
passed without bringing a desi)atch con- 
firming the news of a disaster. Thus 
her mind and her body, through these 
days consecrated to weeping, desjiair, 
and labor, and followed by nights witli- 
out sleep, and even without repose, had 
both been badlj' sliaken. She kept her- 
self up only by the aid of strong coffee, 
and could get a fitful repose only when 
saturated with chloral. She had, for 
that matter, consumed such an immense 
quantity of that medicine that she had 
fits of somnambulism, during which, with 
her great eyes open and staring, she 
seemed foreign to all that was passing 
round about her, and not even to under- 
stand those who addressed her." 

The Empress made a hasty toilet, 
and took as her only package a little 
travelling sack, which some of the suite 
urged her to leave lest it might betrav 



2:)6 



Em OPE I.Y STORM AXD CALM. 



hor ; ami it was al'trruards found on a 
toilet table wlieii tlie ottlcers of the 
Reimblic invaded tiie Tuileries. The 
little party set out, witli many misgivings, 
from tlie Tuileries, through the great, 
empty halls, and aeross the Louvre, 
and went down into the street opposite 
the old church of St. Germain I'Auxer- 
rois, from the lielfry of which the signal 
for the massacre of St. Bartholomew was 
•sounded. The Prince de Metternich gave 
his arm to the Empress, and Chevalier 
Nigra accompanieil ^Madame Lelireton, 
the Empress's reader, who was greatly 
devoted to her. The lady stepped hastily 
into a call which hatl liecii hailed, and 
Prince de Mi'tternich said to the coach- 
man, " Boulevard Maussmann." A 
ijiiiiiin who was going by stopped, and 
drawled out, with the peculiar accent of 
the low-class Parisian, '• That is a good 
one ; sure enough that is the Empress ! " 
Luckily no one [laid any attention to the 
boy's remark. The Prince and the 
Chevalier then got into the cab, which 
drove "briskly away ; and on the Boule- 
vard Hanssmaini they thought it prudent 
to dismiss the coachman, and jM-esently 
to take another carriage, in which they 
went to the hospitable mansion of Dr. 
Evans, in the Avenue Malakoff. 

The Count d'llerisson says, " Dr. 
Evans was not only a siiecialist, who had 
1ieen alile to acquire a European reputa- 
tion as well as an enormous fortune, but 
he was a good- hearted man. A few 
weeks later, wlien the sufTerings and 
the privations of the siege began, he 
established and maintained, out of his 
own purse, an American ambulance. 

When the accounts were 

made up, after he had distributed succor 
to the prisoners of war in (k-rmany, it 
was found that the generous American 
citizen had given 1 .•2()0.<H)(.) francs to his 
French home." " Dr. Evans," says the 



Count, '• had known llie Empress as a 
young gii'l, and had always found the 
doors of the Tuileries wide oi)en to him. 
He now placed himself at her disposal 
with entire devotion." The Em|)ress, 
being determined not to enter a railway 
carriage, fearing that she might be recog- 
nized and arrested, spent the night at the 
doctor's house, and the next day, in 
company with Madame Lelireton, Dr. 
Evans, and Dr. Crane, she set forth in 
a landau for the coast at Deauville, from 
which point she hoped to get to Eng- 
land." 

At the Porte Maillot Dr. Evans leaned 
half-way out of tlie window, undei- pre- 
text of asking some informati(.in of the 
National Guards, who were stationed 
theri', and thus screened from view the 
Empress, who, when she found that she 
was outside the walls of Paris without 
having been recognized, wept; but 
whether from joy or grief the Count does 
not say. The party went comfortably 
forward to Mantes, where the horses. 
Completely fagged, refused to budge 
another step, and the fugitives were 
obliged to get into a clumsy country 
wagon, drawn by two ill-tempered beasts. 
Some future Carlyle may make out of 
this journey of the Empress a chapter 
as picturesque as that which descriltes 
tlie attempted lliglit of the king in the 
last century, and he can use the follow- 
ing incident, told with much effect by 
the Count d'llerisson : — • 

In a little village called La Comman- 
derie the new relay came to grief, and 
the horses stood stubbornly undei- a 
shower of blows from the driver's whip. 
So Dr. Evans set out in quest of other 
cattle, and presently discovered in a 
shed a ailMie, which might have been 
new at the time of the invasion of the 
Allies. A peasant offered to go into the 
fields and catch some wild-looking horses. 



EUROrE ly STORM AND CALM. 



237 



His offer was accepted, and presently 
two old, l:)rokeu-down steeds were at- 
tached to the aged wagon. The woman 
who furnished this equipage found it so 
good that she said to the doctor, " You 
see that a queen might be satisfied witli 
such a fine outfit." The Empress trem- 
bled, and believed that she had l)een 



interrupted save by break-downs, the 
party arrived at Deauville. The Count 
d'Ht'rissou, with a charming attention 
to small details, informs us that during 
the journey the Empress had wept so 
much that she had no jiocket-handker- 
chiefs left ; whereupon the doctor pro- 
ceeded to wash out the handkerchiefs. 







THE FLIGHT OF THE EMPRESS. 



recognized ; but this curious remark, 
which fell from the lips of the good old 
woman, was due entirely to hazard. 

At Evreux the crazy vehicle lum- 
bered through the great square at the 
moment when the new Prefect was pro- 
claiming the Republic in the presence of 
the whole population. No one even turned 
to look at the Empress and her faithful 
escort. At six o'clock in the evening, 
after thirty-six hours on a journey uu- 



and to get them rough-dried by the air. 
" The Empress," said the Count, " re- 
fused at first, then accepted ; and the 
doctor, getting down by a little brook 
which ran beside the highw^ay, washed 
out the linen, then set the handkerchiefs 
to dry in the air at the window of the 
carriage." 

There were two yachts lying in the 
port of Deauville ; one of them was 
called the Gazelle, and belonged to Sir 



238 



EUROPE ly STORM AXD CALM. 



John BiirsjoNiio, wli<i was a pcrsdiuvl 
frioiKl of Nnpoleon III. I>r. Evans 
went to liira, and asked him if lie would 
save the Empress. 

The doctor pleaded his cause so well 
that tinally, towards eleven o'clock in 
the evening. Sir .John Bursioyne, or, as 
the Connt will have him, Sir Burgoyne, 
accepted the perihnis mission, and on 
"Wednesday, the 7th of .September, at 
six in tiie inoruiuL!:, the Empress saw the 
soil of France receding from her view. 
She had, with her little party, embarked 
the night before, realizing that every 
moment she remained in France added 
to her danger. The GuzeUi' was only 
about forty-five feet long, and had a 
small cabin, in which the Empress, 
Madame Lebretou, Dr. Evans, and 
'• Sir Burgoyne " passed twenty-three 
hours in one of the most frightful tem- 
]>ests that ever raged on the Channel. 
Great waves swept over the yacht every 
minute. All the members of the party 
did, their best to comfort and console 
the Empress, and presently the yacht 
came into the port of Byde, where 
the passengers, deluged by salt-water 
and pale with their long exposure, looked 
so forbidding that they were refused 
rooms at the Pier Hotel, and they finally 
took refuge in the York Hotel, whence 
Dr. Evans acconipanied the Empress to 
London. It was he who rented for 
her at Chiseliiurst the mansi(jn of Cam- 
den Place, where Napoleon III. was 
destined to breathe his last, and from 
which the young Prince Imperial was 
sorrowfully escorted to his grave by his 
school-mates fr(jm the military institution 
at Woolwich. 

Count d'IIi''rissou has the slightest 
details with regard to the historic oc- 
casion carefully set down. AVe need 
not, perhaps, question the taste of Count 
d'H6rissou in stating that the Empress 



entirely forgot to thank Sir .b)hn liur- 
goyne for the use of his yacht, and that 
it was more than a year afterwards, 
when Lady Burgoyne exi)ressed her 
astonishment about the matter in a con- 
versation with the Empress, that the 
omission was repaired. In leaving the 
Tuileries the Empress had taken abso- 
lutely nothing but the clothes which 
she had on. Count d'llerisson himself 
was charged with the duty of bringing 
to the Empress such of her personal 
belongings as he could obtain. He was 
authorized by the new authorities to go 
into the Empress's private apartments 
in the Tuileries, and thus describes 
them : — 

"The great salon, which served as a 
kind of study for the Empress regent, 
lier Ijoudoir, her oratory, her bed- 
chanilier, her toilet-room were all in a 
long suite, overlooking, and getting 
their light from, the garden of the Tuil- 
eries. All these rooms were furnished 
with the relinoment of modern luxury ; 
and this luxury hardly seemed in its 
[ilacc. It was out of character with the 
rather severe grandeur of the Tuileries. 
It was a parlor of Madame de Metter- 
nich transported to the old palace. I 
feel certain that if the famous ambassa- 
dress had lived in these Tuileries her 
parlor would have been of an entirely 
different style. I have never seen the 
private apartments of the Queen of Eng- 
land, nor those of the Empress of Russia, 
lint I would wager that they are strangely 
different from those that the Empress 
Eugenic had arranged for herself at the 
Tuileries." 

Among the despatches lying in dis- 
order on the Empress's table was one 
which M. d'Herisson read, and which 
has an historical interest. It was ad- 
dressed to Napoleon III., and was thus 
conceived : — 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



23S> 



"To THE Emperor: Do not dream 
of coming back liere if you do not 
wish to let loose a frightful revolution. 
This is the advice of Rouher and Chev- 
reau, whom I saw this morning. People 
would be sure to say here that you are 
flying from danger. Do not forget how 
Prince Napoleon's departure from the 
Crimea has shadowed his whole life. 

"• ICUGENIE." 

The Count also indulges his public in 
a sketch of the dressing-rooms of the 
Empress ; the mauuikins upon which her 
costumes were exhibited before she con- 
descended to place them upon her Im- 
perial person, and many other items which 
we need not here recite. Some idea of 
the luxury of the Empress's wardrobe 
may be gathered from the fact that M. 
d'Herisson took away from the crown 
fur-keeper 600,000 francs' worth of 
costly furs, and that the Empress had 
as many more deposited with her i^er- 
soual friends. He estimates the total 
value of the Empress's furs at 3,000,000 
or 4,000,000 of francs. 

When the Republican deputies set 
forth from the Palais Bourbon for the 
H6tel de Ville a vast shout went up 
from the enormous masses of people on 
the Place de la Concorde. Jules Favre 
was stopped at every moment by people 
who insisted ui)on shaking hands with 
him, or affectionately embracing him. 
M. Simon was quite worn out with en- 
deavors to rescue his colleague from the 
too demonstrative populace. At last it 
was necessary to surround Favre, who 
was, for the moment, more conspicuous 
than Gambetta, with a few National 
Guards, and so, by-and-by, he came with 
his friends to the historic Hotel de Ville. 

Paris had, in no less than half an 
hour, completely regained its equanimity. 
The news of the Reiuiblic's declaration 



had spread like lightning IVoni quarter 
to quarter, and everybody seemed, in the 
general joy, to have forgotten the Prus- 
sians, and the siege which was tightening 
its iron bands round the town. Jules 
Simon says that he heard one workman 
sa3- to another : " They won't dare to 
come, nowtbat we have got it." " They " 
were the Prussians; "it" was the Re- 
public. The deputies did not stop at 
theTuileries, — although the}' were dying 
to know wliat was going on witiiin the 
walls, — but pushed on, here and there, 
seeing workmen mounted on ladders 
knocking off the N's and Imperial eagles 
from signs, and demolishing everything 
which tended to recall the memory of 
the recently ruined government. 

At the Hotel de Ville there was new 
danger ; and all the politicians knew it. 
There the Communists rallied, as they 
rallied later to such deadly advantage. 
There w.as Millii^re with his men ; De- 
lescluze arrived shortly afterwards. 
Milliere had been busily at work draw- 
ing up lists of members for the projected 
new government, and tliese lists were 
already l>eing circulated in the Place de 
Gr^ve when the deputies arrived. The 
names of 151an(iui, Delescluze, Flourens, 
Felix Pyat, and Rochefort had been 
placed upon these lists. There was a 
plan to proclaim Rochefort Mayor of 
Paris, and a strongly armed delegation 
had been sent off to Sainte Pelagic to take 
him out of the captivity from which he 
was freed by the disappearance of the 
Empire. Had any guardian ventured to 
resist this delegation he would undoulit- 
edly have been shot. One of the leading 
members of the Republican group afHrms 
that, unless some one had had the good 
sense to cry out when the procession was 
nearing the H6tel de Ville, " Make the 
Deputies of Paris members of the govern- 
ment ! " the Connnune would have broken 



240 



EUROPE LV STORM AXD CALM. 



out ill .all its hiiU'Oiisiiess on thatvfi-y day, 
and the Prussians would have been in 
Paris eight days afterwards. 

Rochefort arrived frdui liis prison in a 
carriage ornamenteil with red tlags, and 
followed by a crowd which yelled, 
" Uoehefort for Mayor of Paris ! " This 
question of the mayoralty was a burning 
one, and, as we see by this incident, was 
brought forward the monieut it was 
possible. Paris had ardeutly desired 
the autonomy of the capital for many 
years, and, had the inhal)itants been ae- 
coi'ded that autonomy, would never have 
made the Revolution of 1S71. But the 
time h.id not come for Rochefort to be 
Mayor of Paris, so he had to content 
himself with a post which wa.s f)ffered 
him in the new government, henceforth 
to lie known through the days of diffi- 
culty and despair in the siege as the 
government of Xational Defense. Vn- 
doulitedly Paris owes much to these men 
■who acted with so much gravity, vigor, 
and tact at a time when delay or hesi- 
tation might have caused infinite blood- 
shed. 

On the way to the MMi-\ de Ville 
the deputies had met General Troehu 
galloping along, followed by his general 
staff, and Jnles Favre had made a sign 



to him to lialt, taken him by the hand, 
and informetl him of all the events of 
tile day. '' I am going with my friends," 
he said, "to constitute a government at 
the Hotel de Ville, so we will beg you 
to return to your ((uaiters, and there 
wait our communications." General 
Troehu said he had no olijections to 
doing this ; and in fact he did it. Before 
nightfall Paris had its new government, 
with Gambetta as the delegate for the 
Interior, Jules Simon for Public Instruc- 
tion, Jules Favre for Foreign Affairs, 
General LefJo as Minister of War, and 
General Troehu, Engine Pelletan, Em- 
manuel Arago, and Rochefort as dele- 
gates without special missions. The 
new government's proclamation, issued 
in haste, told the people that the Repulilic 
had saved them from the invasion of 
IT'.iL', that the Reinililic was jiroclaimed 
anew, and that the Revolution had been 
made in the interests of public safety. 

A day or two afterwards the exiles, 
who had for twenty-one years watched 
the course of the Empire from their 
retreats in the mountains and islands, 
were on their way home. Victor Hugo 
did not lose an instant in making prepa- 
rations for his departure after he had 
heard the news of his enemy's downfall. 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



241 



CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE. 



Seiiac — The March to the Anlcnnc-:. — The Ileailsti-ong Pahkao. — The Crown Prinre of Sax'ony's 
Anuy. — General De Failly at Beaumont. — The Pictreat to Sedan. — General De WimptTen conies 
upon the Scene. — The Prussians Open Fire in Front of Sedan. — Disaster to MacJIahon. — Slan^li- 
tered by Invisible Enemies. — The Battle at Bazeilles. — Do Wimptfeu's Forlorn Hope. 



WHAT had taken place at Sedan? 
We pass over the painlnl and 
unwise march of Marshal MacMahon, 
with his poorly cqnipped and badly fed 
troops, from Rheim.s to the point at 
which he was met In' the advance corps 
of the Crown Prince's army. Some idea 
of the eonfusiou and disorder of his 
march may be gathered from tlie state- 
ment, made upon good authority, that 
the arn\v, which left Chalons one hun- 
dred and forty thousand strong, could 
not put seventy thousand men in line 
on the great day of the decisive Ijattle 
at Sedan. It is now clearly established 
by General De AVimpffeu, and by other 
gallant officers, that if they had l^een 
allowed to have their way, they would 
never have let the snu set on the battle- 
lield of Sedan without a final and a 
brilliant struggle for victory. The gov- 
ernment in Paris, acting upon the iusulli- 
cient information which it had, insisted 
with the greatesteuergy, while MacMahon 
was hesitating at Rhcims, that he should 
march to a junction with Bazaine. Gen- 
eral De Palikao, whose conduct can 
be qualified only as headstrong, Avent 
to see the Empress, and threatened 
that, unless MacMahon started at once 
for Metz, he would have it posted 
up all over France that the Emperor 
was the cause of the disasters which 
must result from the delay in bringing 
the two great French armies together. 
MaclEahon, like a gallant gentleman. 



took the blame for this fatal march, at 
the time that he was criticised witii the 
greatest vivaeitv and harshness, upon 
iiimself ; but history will place the re- 
sponsibility of the disaster of Sedan on 
the shoulders of the Em[)ei'or and the 
Regency in Paris. General Lebrun and 
others have given what they thought 
are sufficient proofs to indicate that, in 
spite of all the follies committed by the 
Imperial army, the Germans were taken 
very much by sur[)rise, and tiiat the 
concentration of their troops aroimd 
Metz was not due at all to the marvel- 
lous perspicacitj' of Von Moltke, or to 
the German military genius, but rather 
to a happy accident, which, in addition 
to the disorganization of the French, 
gave them a comi)arativel3' easy victory. 
On tlie 27th of August, at half-past 
eight in the evening. Marshal Mac- 
Mahon addressed to the INIinisters of 
War the following telegram : " The fii'st 
and second armies — more than two lum- 
dred thousand strong — are blockading 
Metz ehiofij' on the left shore. A force 
estimated at fiftj' thousand men is said 
to be established on the right bank of 
the Mense to hinder my march on 
Metz. We hear that the army of the 
Crown Prince is to-day on the move 
towards the Ardennes, with fifty tliou- 
sand men. It is said to be already at 
Ardeuil. I am at Chenes, with a little 
more than one hundred thousand men. 
Since the 9th I have had no news from 



242 



ECRorE I\ STORM AX/) CALM. 



Bazaine. If I so I'diwanl to Jd'hi forces 
witli liiiii I .shall he attacked in front li3' 
<i part of the lirst and second armies, 
which can lotlo-i- jn the woods a force 
snperioi' to my own. at the same time 
that 1 am attacked by the Crown 
Prince's army, who can cut off my line 
of retreat. 'J'c^-morrow I move up to 
Metz, whence I shall continue my re- 
treat, according to events, towards the 
west." 

Back came a telegram from the Minis- 
ter of AVar, saying: "If you abandcjn 
Bazaine we shall have a revolution in 
Paris, and yon will yourself l)e attacked 
by all the forces of the enemy. Paris 
will take care of itself against tlie (Ger- 
mans ; and it appears to me urgent 
that you should johi Bazaine as rapidly 
as pos.sible. tShall follow you with tlie 
greatest anxiety." When Marshal Jlac- 
jNIahon received this despatch, he re- 
nounced his movement on Metz and 
marched towards Montmedy, having 
lost a precious twenty-four houi's, dur- 
ing which tune the German army was 
undertaking one of its terrible forced 
marches, like that which decided the 
battle of Sadowa ; and JlacMalion, who 
fancied that in the neighlioi'hood of 
Montmedy he was going to operate his 
famous jinictiou with Bazaine's forces, 
found himself face to face with a division 
of the Gei'uiaus, which formed, as it 
were, a fourth German army, and had 
been organized in great haste, in view 
of the ch.ange in the French plan of 
operations, and placed under the orilers 
of the Prince of Saxony. This army 
was composed of the Prussian Guards, 
niagnilicent troops, the Saxons, and 
one of the Alvenslel)en corjjs, and two 
divisions of cavalry. 

At Bnzancy the Fi-ench cavalry and 
the chasseurs of (ieneral Il|-ah;mt sud- 
denlv found the (ierman shells faliiiiL;' 



in tiieir ranks, and were obliged to retreat 
liefoi'c a deadly tile, which canu> from 
forests along the mute. The Fifth 
French corps, under General ])e Failly, 
was thus inished ))ack to Chatillon, whei'e 
it cam|)cd in the greatest confusion for 
the night. 

I'oor General De Failly committed 
faults enough in the war to be pardoned 
the unfortunate remark attriliuted to him 
liy many historians of the campaign, and 
never, so far as I know, conti'adicted by 
him, — a remark made when he was in 
full retreat. He was breakfasting at 
Beaumont, where a fresh disaster was 
destined to fall upon the French, when 
he was informed that the Prussians wci-e 
ap[)roaching. "Oh, well," said the 
General, " we punished them severely 
enough yesterday : it is only fair that 
they should put a few of our men liors 
dc i-oinhat to-day ; so let us 0[>eu another 
))0ttle." 

In the leafy avenues of the Ardennes 
the Germans found facile shelter, and 
made sad havoc among the French on 
this day of the 2Tth. The next day the 
French lesumed their march in a. ])onr- 
ing rain, and there were no hostile opera- 
tions. But on the 'J'Jth two squadrons 
of Prussian hussars, coming up to a little 
village, took it by storm. Further on, 
at Nonart, the French were unlucky in a 
collision with the Germans. Near this 
point the Fi-ench opened a formidable 
artillery lire u|)on the (ierman troops, 
who wei-e peaceal)ly detiling through a 
valley about a league away ; but no 
Freneli General had had the forethought 
to block the route over which the Ger- 
mans were passing, by [ilacing an army 
corps across it. On the evening of the 
2i)th of August General De Failly's 
corps, which had been the avant-fjanle 
of the French army, was now the rear- 
ynard. (ieneral Felix Douav. with the 



EUROVE IX STORM AND CALM. 



243 



Seventh corps, was in the rear, on the 
right, near Biizanc\'. The First corps, 
commanded by General Ducrot, formed 
the centre, and was at llaucourt, and the 
Twelfth corps, under General Lebrun, 
was in camp on the left. " To accom- 
plish this movement of concentration," 
says a clever critic of the Empire, " which 
culminated at Sedan, tlie French army 
had made eight leagues in three days ! " 

Unless the French army could rapidly 
gain Montnied^', or retrace its steps to 
Mezic'res, it was placed in a position of 
great danger. Through this wild, woody 
country, full of ravines, the river 
Meuse takes its sinuous way. Mout- 
medy is the principal stronghold of the 
department of the Meuse. Not far 
away are Mouzon, on the same river, 
and Carillon on the Chi&res. Beyond 
them, and just back of the confluence of 
the Meuse and the Chi^res, is situated 
the old town of Sedan, at the bottom of 
a kind of sleepy hollow, surrounded on 
all sides by green and wooded hills. A 
little farther away is Mezieres, the only 
really imi)ortant stronghold of the sec- 
tion. " Here," says M. Jules Claretie, 
" in this kind of triangle, formed 
by the two rivers, the Meuse and the 
Chieres, the destinies of the country 
were to be jeopardized." 

On the evening of the 29th General 
De Failly passed through the fore.st of 
Dieulet and camped at Beaumont. It is 
perhaps too much to say that he camped, 
for all night long his troops were strag- 
gling in in little parties, without the 
smallest attention to discipline. The 
rear-guard of the Fifth corps did not 
get into camp until five o'clock in the 
morning. At seven o'clock Marshal 
MacMahon came up to the camp, stopped 
at the head-quarters, and ordered General 
De Failly to march upon Mouzon. Here 
there was a delay, which seems to have 



characterized all De Failly's movements, 
and nothing was done until nine o'clock, 
and then, after a short march, there was 
a halt until noon, by which time all was 
lost. Poor Marshal MacMahon had 
gone off confident that his orders would 
be obeyed and that De Failly would keep 
ahead of the enemy, for this seems the 
utmost that the unfortunate French 
hoped. At a little after the hour of 
noon. General De Failly found his corps 
surrounded by the army of the Ci-own 
Prince of Prussia. 

The first Prussian shell, it is said, 
caused a veritable stupor in the French 
camp. Neither generals nor soldiers 
had the least notion that the enemy was 
so closely upon them. There was a call 
to arms ; many of the soldiers were in 
their shirt-sleeves, some of them were 
lying down asleep. There was a whirl 
of batteries along the hill abos-e the 
French, then a rain of shell, which did 
terrible execution. Piesently, three 
French regiments of the line and the 
Fourth battalion of the Chatiseurs <1 
Pled got a |)osition on the hills, and were 
imshing back into the woods the Prus- 
sians who were just appearing, when a 
new storm of shells came out of the 
thickets, and the valiant liners looked in 
vain for their own artillery to second 
their efforts. The Germans, seeing that 
the corps was completely at their mercy, 
broke cover, and with loud shouts 
advanced on the enemy. The French, 
in desperation, then attempted a bayonet 
charge ; but they were met with such 
a frightful fusillade that they were 
obliged to retreat. On the left the 
French were thrown back on Mouzon ; 
their centre was broken, and carried by 
the Bavarinus ; and their retreat upon 
Sedan was a veritable sauve qui pent. 

All night long the discouraged and 
demoralized troops were pouring into the 



244 



EUROPE IN SrOh'.n AXD CALM. 



gates of Sodun, find next day the roads 
about the town wei'e covered with re- 
treating men, worn out with liiniger and 
fatigue. Towards nightfall of tlie 'i'.ltli 
one of the I-'reneh cavalry regiments, the 
Fifth cuirassiers, had attempted a brill- 
iant charge on the enemy, but was 
l)adly cut to [jieci s Ijy tiie artillery. 

The Thirtietii regiment of the line, 
when it retreated across tlie JMeuse, after 
sunset on this disastrous day, had not a 
single round of cartridges left. 

IMeantinie General Douay's Seventh 
corps had arrived on the l>attle-field, and 
General LeBrnn, with his infantry, had 
made a splendid defence of the passage 
of the Meuse ; but the da^' was veritably 
lost, and tlie whole army had finally 
received ordeis to letreat uimn Sedan 
along the left shore of tlie river Ghieres. 

Here the army was close to the 
Belgian frontier, and entire regiments, 
wandering recklessly hither and you, 
crossing the frontier witlumt knowing it, 
found themselves in presence of the 
neutral Belgian line of troops, and, with 
desiiair and rage in their hearts, \^ere 
compelled to throw dcjwn their guns, 
and also to recognize that they had 
thrown away their last chance for the 
defense of the country in that campaign, 

Wliile the confusion and agony of this 
retreat was at its height, the Imperial 
train of carriages made its a[ii)carance 
on the high-road to Sedan, and the lack- 
eys compelled all the vv'agons which were 
filled with wounded and dying men to be 
ranged in regular order at the side of the 
road while the Empei'or passed by. 
Napoleon had spent the day at Beau- 
mont, lying on the grass, surrounded I13' 
the oflicers of the general staff, and lis- 
tening with seeming indifference to the 
noise of the cannon heard beyond the 
■woods. He preserveil his usual calm 
while on the road to Sedan, and tele- 



graphed from Carigiian to the Empress 
that there had been an engagement of no 
great imiiortaiice, and that he had been 
on horseback for some time. 

On the morning of the .jOtli of August, 
(ieneral Dc \\'iinptfen came upon the 
scene. lie was coming in all haste 
to take the place of General Di' Failly, 
who had proved iiim^elf so notoriously 
incompetent, and his energies were 
doubly awakened because he was a 
native of the province in which this 
great and decisive struggle was going on. 
When he arrived at Metz, on the morn- 
ing of the 30tli, he was horrified at the 
appearance of the army corps confided 
to his charge. Perlia|is, if he had lieen 
in command at Buzancy, Sedan migiit 
not have occurred. '■ I rushed down," 
says tieneral De Wimpft'en, in his own 
[lublished account of the operations 
around Sedan, '■ on to the plain to reason 
with the flying men. I could hardly 
make them understand me. It was in 
vain 1 crieil to them, ' Look liehind you, 
if you do not believe me ! The enemy's 
cannon is still a long way off : you have 
nothing to fear.' They would not listen 
to me in their panting retreat. I finally 
succeeded in stopping a few and par- 
tially reassuring them. Little by little 
this example was followed." It must be 
admitted that no General ever took com- 
mand of an army corps under more try- 
ing conditions. "Just at the moment 
when I was busiest in getting things into 
shape the equiiiage of the houseiiold of 
the Emperor came up along the road near 
me. The servants pretended that every- 
body must stand aside to give them pas- 
sage. I gave some of tliem a formal 
order to profit liy the freshness of their 
horses, and to take a side-road, and clear 
out as speedily as possilile. All the 
troops were half dead with hunger," 
savs the General '-No distribution of 



EUROPE [N STORM AXD CALM. 



245 



bread had been made for some time. 
They were howling for food." 

The misfoitiiues of General De Wira- 
pffen at Sedan have a toneh of pathos in 
them. This brave man, who had heard 
his praise ringing throughout l*".uioi>e at 
the close of the Italian campaign, — the 
man whose grenadiei'S of the guard liad 
swept down upon the Austrian army on 
the day of Magenta, and who, sword in 
hand, had been in the thickest of the fight, 
was n(.)\v condemned by the strange 
caprice of fate to command a broken and 
a useless army, and to sign his name to 
the most inglorious capitulation of 
modern times. That he was able to 
bear himself with the greatest dignity 
under these trying circumstances reflects 
the highest honor upon his character ; 
and his countrymen are now unanimous 
in the belief that, had he arrived in time, 
he could have changed the current of 
events ; nay, they even believe that, had 
it not been for the inexplicable feeble- 
ness of Napoleon, towards the close of 
the decisive day, De Wimijffen would 
have given Marshal Vou Moltke a genu- 
ine surprise. 

But it was not to be. General De 
Wimpffen arrived at Sedan, with what 
was left of poorDe Failly's corps, on the 
night of the 30th. The next morning he 
looked over the camp, and, after a rather 
cool reception from Marshal MacMahon, 
he went to pay his respects to the Em- 
peror. On seeing General De WiiiipHen, 
Napoleon's icy surface of calm melted ; 
the tears came into his eyes ; he clasped 
the General b}' the hands, and said, " Do 
explain to me, if yon can, why we are 
always beaten, and what can have 
brought about the disastrous atlair at 
Beaumont." Then he added, "Alas! 
we are vei'y unlucky." 

General De Wimptfendidnot undertake 
to explain, but contented himself with 



a few commonplaces, and hastened to 
patch up matters as best he could. He 
found in Sedan neither jirovisions nor 
ammunition in any quantity of conse- 
quence. The Fi'ench army had lost 
twenty cannon, eleven mitraiJk'usf'x, and 
seven hundred prisoners at Beaumont; 
and the Prussians and the Saxons were 
still pushing back the French soldiers 
nearer and nearer to .Sedan, down into 
the deadly hollow l)etween the hills, 
which were so soon to be crowned by the 
fatal circle of artillery. Towards Mez- 
ieres, the Crown Prince's arm}' had cut 
off retreat in the direction of that fortress, 
and the Bavarians wei'e massed before 
Bazeilles. The crowning satire upon the 
maladministration of the ICmpire was the 
crossing of the Germans v\ev the Meuse 
on bridges already mined, which the 
French engineer corps had not taken the 
precautions to blow up. 

Gcneial De \\imi)tfen issued a vigorous 
proclamation to the inhabitants of the 
department of the Aisne, in which he 
said, " One of your children who has 
just arrived from Algeria, gives himself 
the satisfaction of visiting his family 
before he faces the enemy. He begs 
you to show yourselves the worthy 
children of those who in 1814 and 1815 
joined themselves with our soldiers to 
fight against invasion." 

Marshal MacMahon, it is said, had 
never had the least idea of giving battle 
in such a ruinous position as that in which 
he was now placed. He spent a great 
part of the day of the 31st of August in 
examining the roads leading into .Sedan, 
to determine by which one he would effect 
his retreat. There were three roads : 
one to the west, towards Metz, which 
was, as we have already seen, rendered 
useless ; another to the east to Cariguan ; 
a third to the north into P.elginm. Mac- 
Mahon sent a strong party to cut the 



246 EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 

bridge over tlic Mcuse at DonclR'ry, AViiiipffbii had in liis poclvet tlie eomniis- 

and tluit niujit left tliiniis to In' decided si(Mi dt llie ^Minister of War, giving liini 

bj' the positie>n in whieii lie should liud the general command of the army in case 

the enemy at dawn. General Leliruu that MacMahou were killed or wounded, 

asserts, however, in a recently [luiilished "When General De Wiiuiiffeii learned ol" 

work, that MacMahou had, on the even- General Diicrot's apijointnient he was 

ing of the 31st of August, given u|i all at first inclined to kec)) his own comniis- 

hope of taking the defensive, and that sion in his pocket; but as soon as he 

the disposition of the four army coips saw that Cieueral I)urr(.)t was operating' 

around Si'dan indicates that he was ^ire- a retreat on the centre and on the left, 

parir.g for advance. so as to throw the whi>le army back to 

Mai-shal Mac]\[ahon did not ha\'e to jMezieres, he thought it was his duty to 

■wait for the morning's sun to decide take charge, and, bringing his troops 

what he would do, for the Pnissiaiis back under the cannon of Sedan, he 

o[ieiied a tremendous (ire at lialf-|iast announced himself as General-in-chief, 

four (ill the morning of tlie 1st. The siiowed his commission, and at once sent 

Marshal jumped u[)oii his horse, and orders to General Uucrot to take up his 

went out to get an exact idea of the old position, sending to (ieneral Lelirun, 

enemy's position. While watching a who was fighting at Bazeilles, all the 

lively fusillade, in front of P.azeilles, a troops which he could dispose of, to 

splinter Irom a shell struck and killed confirm the success that the valiant Le- 

liis horse, and the Marshal fell heavily lirun was getting on the right, 
under him. ^Vt first he thought he was " It would liave Iieen," says M. Jidcs 

only liruised, but when he was taken out Siinon, " [lossible at the beginning of 

from under the animal's liody he the day to operate a retreat at rx^uillon, 

swooned, and found fhat he was so to reach Belgium, and thus to save [lart 

badly hurt that he must transmit his of the array ; but then tlie troops would 

powers. He sent at once for General have constituted themselves prisoners 

Ducrot, fhinking that this Cieiieral was without having fought. Neither Marshal 

better (pialilied to judge of the (ierman JlacMahon nor General Ducreyi nor 

movement because he had had so wide Genertd De Wimiiffen thought of this for 

an exiierieuce of their tactics. Ducrot a single instant. Willi few illusions as 

hastened to the 'I'welfth coi|)s, which was to the result of a battle, if they were 

already very badly cut up, and pointed forced to accept it, they woidd hear of 

out directly to fk'ueral Lcbrun that the retreat only in passing over the enemy, 

enemy was moving slowly up the heighls, which was hemming them in. The Ger- 

which would give them the advantage man report states this to their honor, 

over the left of the First French corps, and France will remember them grate- 

" Tln^ enemy is [iroceediiig,'' he said, fully for it." 

"according to its usual tactics. It is It was now nine o'clock in the morning, 

going to sin-round us on all sides. We rJeneial De Wiin|)ffen, ranging over the 

must not hesitate. The army must l.ieat fielil of battle, met the Emperor, wdio 

a retreat post-haste for Mezieres." had come back from the hills near 

Meantime there were two French com- Hazeilles. Napoleon had been for a 

manders on the field. MacMahou had short time under the enemy's fire, and one 

appointed Ducrot, but tieneral De of his orderlies had been killed near him. 



EUROPE IX STORM A.VD CALM. 



247 



When he met General De Wirapffen he 
was goiijg quietly to take his breakfast. 
General De Wimpffeu tells us in iiis 
pamphlet on the battle that he himself 
had had nothing to eat that morning but 
a carrot, that he had pulled in the Held, 
and that thousands of soldiers had had 
nothing to eat for twelve hours. The 
Emperor asked for news of the battle. 
General De WimptTen answered that 
things were going well, and that they 
were gaining ground. Napoleon thought 
it proper to point out tliat the enemy 
was massing very considerable forces on 
the left; but De Wimpffen s;iid, "We 
arc going to busy ourselves with throwing 
the Bavarians into the Meuse ; then, 
with all our troops, we will face our new 
enemy." These words, spoken in haste, 
were afterwards brought up agaiust De 
Wimpffen by the Imperial Party as pre- 
sumable evidence of his incapacity. But 
the German military report does full justice 
to De WimptTen's tactics, and condemns 
those of General Ducrot. General De 
Wimpffen's plan was to ti'y first to win 
a defensive battle, then to undertake a 
surprise by a sudden and general on- 
slaught on the Bavarian corps, forcing 
them to open the road to C'arignau, which 
the movements then in operation were 
leaving quite undefended liy the German 
troops. lie meant to hold out until night- 
fall not only for the honor of the French 
arms, but because he thought it would be 
easier than to fraj' a passage for himself 
and his army as far as C'arignau and Mont- 
medy. As for General Ducrot's tactics 
the Prussian generals have repeatedly said 
that his movement, which had been begun 
at half-past seven o'clock, had led them 
to hope that they would have the whole 
French army safely caged by nine. They 
admit that they were very much surprised 
at the sudden offensive movements, and 
especially at the pnilouged resistance. 



The Emperor had delinitely given up 
all participation in the connnand of the 
French army some fifteen daj's before 
the battle of Sedan, and neither he nor 
General Ducrot took any p.art in the 
command after De Wimpffen had shown 
his commission. After Napoleon niet 
De Wimpft'en on the field he went to his 
quarters in Sedan, and was seen no 
more until the l)attle was over, at six 
o'clock in the evening. 

General De Wimpffen wasdetciinined, 
at all hazards, to avoid a capitulation. 
His personal pride, his sense of the 
country's dignity, and his fresh ardor, 
which had not j'et been blunted by the 
spectacle of the long series of disasters 
and the horrilile exposures of negligence 
since the defeats in Alsatia, — all for- 
bade him to think of surrender. He 
plainly saw that ho was fatally, hope- 
lessly outnumbered ; but he set his 
heroic soul upon the taslv of breaking 
the line of iron and steel after he had 
inflicted all the punishment he could 
upon his enemies, and getting awa^- out 
of this horrible valley, where he could 
undertake new movements in more ad- 
vantageous positions. It was almost 
imitossible to move about upon this field 
of battle, whicii was swept from earliest 
dawn by four hundred German cannon. 
The German batteries, while the Prus- 
sian corps were niantpuvring with a view 
to closing up tlie road to Belgium, sent 
down upon the French troops contiimous 
and converging fires. " Wounded," 
says one French writer, "by invisible 
enemies firing from unknown distances, 
the demoralized troops fell into a kind 
of dumb rage. Our artillery, inferior in 
range to the German guns, replied ;is 
best it could ; but, while our shells could 
not always reach the enemy, — and a good 
many of them went off prematurely, — 
the number of the enemv's guns was 



248 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



tri[}le ours ; — we were siiiiiily cnislied ! 
General Felix Doiiay's troops were ter- 
rible sufferers from this fire. The cav- 
aliv i-oulil not even get into line; ami to 
maintain the infantry in line of liattle 
was next to impossible." Tlie (iernian 
artillery dismounted three P'reneh bat- 
teries in less than ten minutes. Here 
the milraiUi'iise, on which the Freneli had 
counted so much, was quite useless, be- 
cause of its short lange. 

All the military wi iters on the French 
side, desci'il)ing the battles, say that the 
German circle formed around the French 
seemed to grow smaller and smaller 
every few minutes ; and this weird and 
terrible movement of closing in had the 
most demoralizing eft'ect upon the French 
troops. General De Wimpffeu had not 
Si >img\(i aide-de-camp ni his disposition. 
From a hill on which he had established 
himself, he looked down upon General 
Ducrot driven out of Givonne, and Gen- 
eral Douay half crushed by the German 
artillery-men, and tlie Fifth corps artil- 
lery lighting here and tliere. At Ba- 
zeilles, the marines posted in the houses 
were giving the Bavarians a terrible 
punisimient, and Genend Von der Tann 
had to b(^ reinforced with troops 
from tlie I'rince of Saxony's army, 
from the Prussian Brandenbiirg regi- 
ment, and from the Fourth battalion of 
Prussian cluissenrs, as well as by a new 
batterv. befori> he could sustain combat. 

It was just, at this point that l)e 
\Vini|iffen hoped to break through the 
enemy's lines : so he gave orders U> (ieii- 
eral Lebrun to undertake the operation. 
At the same time he ordered General 
Dncrot to cover the movement, ( ieneial 
Douay to march to La Jloncelle. near 
Bazeilles, and one of the divisions of 
the Fifth corps to throw itself upon the 
same point. Then he hastily wrote a 
letter to Na|)oleoii, sending two cojiies 



of it liy two officers whom he managed to 
hail on the lield, saying to his Imperial 
master that he had decided to force the 
line in front of General Lebrnn and Gen- 
eral Dncrot sooner than be taken prisoner 
at .Sedan. " Let Your Majesty come and 
put himself at the head of his troops ; 
they will engage niion their honor to 
oi)en a passage for iiim." This letter 
was written at a quarter-past one ; but 
just then General Douay was falling 
Ijack before the Prussian artillery, and 
the French troops, who had sujiported 
witli real heroism the terrible lire from 
the steel cannons of the (iermans for 
more than two hours, were wavering. 
The Prussian Infantry was rushing down 
to sweep away the French left, when 
General Ducrot sent General De Margue- 
ritte with his cavalry division to charge 
Ihe Germans. This (General executed a 
brilliant movement, and disjjcrsed the 
first inimical lines, but found himself 
rushing on troops formed in squares, and 
firing at one hundred and fifty jtaces 
deadly volleys into the galloping squad- 
rons. The French cuirassiers ttu'ued 
and returned to the charge, with the 
s|)lendid energy shown liy their unfortu- 
nate comrades at Froshweiler. 

The Crown Pi'ince of Prussia after- 
wards told (ieneral Dtierot that the old 
German king, when he saw this white 
line of French cuirassiers come, breaking 
like foam upon a rocky shore, against 
the black sipmres of German Infantry, 
from time to time, could not restrain 
his admiration, and crietl out: "Oh! 
the brave fellows." tieneral De Mar- 
gueritte was mortally wounded in this 
magnificent charge ; but his place was 
taken by M. De Galliffet, so soon to be 
rendered celelirated by his energetic ac- 
tion during the great Paris insiirreelic.in ; 
and new charges, all superb but all uu- 
availiuii. were made. 



EUROPE m STORM AND CALM. 



249 



This final effort of De (ialliffet's closed 
the French resistance on this side of the 
battle-fiekl. The army began to retreat, 
still decimated by the fiendish shell-lire. 
General Diicrot got his soldiers to rally 
three times ; and each time the shells 
sent them back. Companies disbanded, 
and began to fall away t (awards the old 
camp near Sedan. They neither knew 
whether MacMahon was alive or dead, 
whether the Emperor had fled or was 
still at his post, who was in command, 
or anything else ! They finally were 
panic-stricken, and swept into the streets 
of Sedan and hung ronnd the base of the 
pedestal, upon which stood the proud 
figure of Turenne, who had taken and 
sacked many a German town. 

The battle was lost. Von Moltke, on 
the heights, was jubilant at the success 
of his cool and adroit calculations ; but 
there was still a duty left for the poor 
General De Wimpffen to perform. His 
conscience rebelled more than ever at 
the thought of surrender, and he clung to 
his idea of opening a gateway towards 
Carignan. While De Wimpffen was 
impatiently awaiting the answer to his 
letter, he was horrified and ashamed 
to hear that the wiiite flag of capitula- 
tion was hoisted upon the rampart of 
Sedan. Yet he could not believe tiiat 
the Emperor would not answer him, 
and he waited for an hour at the head 
of live or six thousand troops of all sorts, 
a kind of epitome of the whole army, 
the bravest and the best, the men who 
were too honest and brave to retreat, and 
who were willing to saciifice their lives for 
the maintenance of their honor. With 
this little body he had made one or two 
attempts to continue the resistance. 
AVhen he learned from an officer of the 
Imperial household about the appearance 
of the white flag, it is said that he fell 
into a terrible passion. 



When he read the letter from the Em- 
peror, ordering him to capitulate, he shut 
his teeth, and said, "I do not recognize 
the Emperor's right to hoist the flag of 
parley. I refuse to negotiate." lie 
crushed the letter in his hand, hastened to 
Sedan, and furiously addressed the sol- 
diers who were hanging about the Place de 
Turenne. "What !" he said, "will you give 
up yourarms, and lie made prisoners ? Not 
a bit of it ! Follow me and open a pas- 
sage by shoving the enemy aside ! " This 
vigorous manoeuvre seemed at first likely 
to succeed. General De Wimpffen got 
about him several thousand men from all 
the corps. There were found courageous 
inhabitants of the town among thosj 
who offered to die or win with him ; and 
they set forth upou one of those forlorn 
hopes, about which, in i)rocess of time, 
nations wea\e the garlands of tradition, 
and make of that which was foolish a 
sublime and heroic thing. Hundreds of 
De Wimpffen's little body of men were 
swept away ; but others rushed upon the 
Bavarians, succeeded in taking the square 
of Bazeilles, and swept the enemy out 
beyond the church, where it had been in 
strong position, and, vainly hoping for 
reinforcements, stubbornly maintained 
their i)lace—t^'.it was all that they could do 
— until nightfall. General Lebrun was 
in this glorious little body of men, and 
fought side by side with De Wimpffen. 
But in the evening, the commanding 
general, linding that he could not hold 
out, felt it his duty to return to Sedan. 
He had twice refused to treat with the 
enemy, which Napoleon had wished him 
to do. He went slowly and despair- 
ingly to the little hotel, where he had 
taken a room on the night of his arrival, 
and sitting down at his desk, wrote a 
letter offering his resignalion as com- 
mander-in-chief. It was then about half- 
past seven o'clock. 



250 



EFRorFj IN srmnr axd calm. 



At right, he received a letter from 
the P^mporor, saying: "General, you 
cannot give yoiu' resignation, because we 
must try and save tlie army li.V an lion- 
oralile capitulation. 1 cannot, therefore, 
accept your resignation. You have done 
your duty to-day ; coutinne to do it ; 
you will render a real service to the 
country. The King of Prussia has ac- 
cepted an armistice, and I am waiting 
his propositions." 

If General De Winipffen had known 
that the King of Prussia had not ac- 
cepted a pro[)osition for an ai'iiiistice, 
but instead had received from Napoleon 
III. an oH'er of surrender, his energetic 
character might have led him to some 
very radical decision. But Napoleon 
was careful to conceal from him the real 
state of the case. He had sent an aide- 
th'-riiiiij), the Count Reille, to carry to 
the King of Prussia a letter, in which he 
saiil that " not having been able to die 
at the head of his troops, he placed his 
sword at the feet of His IMajesty." That 
he was not able to die at the head of liis 
trooi)s was due to the care with which lie 
secluded himself in his hotel during the 
whole afternoon. 

Of how nmch avail he could have 
been (tl the head of his troops may be 
judged from the fact that he did not 
even know what German armies he was 
confronted with. When he met the 
King of Pi'ussia he began talking about 
the armv of Friederich Karl. The old 



King remarked that he did not under- 
stand the observation of his Impel ial 
Majesty. " It is," he said, " the army 
of my son that you have been lighting 
to-day." 

" But where, then, is Friederich 
Karl ? " said the Emperor. 

" Blockading Metz with seven army 
cor[)s," was the answer of the King. 

The story goes that King William 
sent down to Sedan, after the reception 
of Napoleon III.'s letter, a certain 
Bavarian lieutenant-colonel, a veritable 
dandy, tall, thin, wearing gold-bowed 
spectacles. This gentleman, as, in 
comiiany with the French olHcers who 
had brought Naiioleon's letter, he had 
reached a point just outside the Prus- 
sian lines, was not a little startled by 
the explosion of a shell from the German 
batteries, which fell scarcely ten yards 
from him. He brushed the dust from 
his clothes, and turning to the French 
oflicers, said, " Gentlemen, I beg a 
thousand pardons for tiiis lack of courtesy 
on the part of our artillery-men. Our 
batteries certainly could not have seen 
the white flag." This " lack of courtesy" 
cost two poor soldiers their lives ; and 
the otHcers saw them carried off on 
"ladders" made of crossed muskets. 
This Bavarian offlcer. Von Bronsart by 
name, took back to the King of Prussia 
from Sedan Napoleon's formal olt'er of 
capitulation. 



EUROPE I\ STORM AND CALM. 



251 



CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX. 



Tlic QuaiTc! lietween Ducrot anil De WimpllVri. — Tlio Interview with tlie Conqncroi'^. — Tho! Question of 
Alsatia Raised. — Diver<;euce of Opinion between Bismarck anil Von Moltke. — The French Council of 
War. — Napoleon's Departure from Seilan. — Napoleon as a Prisoner. — Bismarck's Interview with him. 
— Over tlie liatllc-fielil. — Singular Appearance of the Dead.— King William on the Field. — His Meet- 
ing with Napoleon. — The M's in the Bonaparte History. 



WHEN the brave General De 
Wiiiipffou discovered that he had 
been deceived by the Emperor he went 
at once to the Imperial head-quarters 
and demanded an audience. He was 
told that this was impossible, as Hi.s 
Majesty was in conference with the 
Prince Imperial. 

This the General knew to be a lie, as 
the young Prince liail beeu for two days 
at Mezieres. Besides tiiis was not a 
time for equivocation ; so lie cried out 
angrily that lie must see the Emperor at 
once ; and at last lie succeeded in pass- 
ing all the guards. 

As soon as he entered tlie Ini|ierial 
presence he said, " Sire, if I luive lost 
the battle, and been conquered, it is 
because my orders have not been ex- 
ecuted, because your generals refused to 
obey me." 

No sooner iiad he said these words 
tlian General Ducrot, who was seated in 
a dark corner of the room, and wliom 
General De Wimpffen had not seen when 
he came in, jumped up and stepped 
directly in front of his commanding 
officer. "• Wliat do you say? We re- 
fused to obey you? To wliom do j'ou 
allude? Is it to me? Unfortunately your 
orders have been only too well executed. 
If we are on the briiilc of a friglitful 
disaster, more friglitful than anything 
we have ever dreamed of, it is yourfool- 
isli presumption which has brought us 
there.'" 



General Ducrot was in a terrible pas- 
sion, and went on to say that if General 
De Wimpffen had not stopped his move- 
ment of retreat the Freucli troops would 
now be safely at Mezieres, or, at least, 
out of the clutches of the enemy. Upon 
this, General De Wimpffen said that if 
that was the opinion of liis friends, it 
was evident that he should no longer 
retain the position of commander-in- 
chief. 

But here a fresh surprise awaited him. 
General Ducrot was not at all of his 
opinion. " You took command this 
morning, when there was honor and 
profit to be got by it. I did not stand 
in your way, though I might, perlitips, 
have done so ; but, at present, you can- 
not refuse to keep it. You alone must 
shoulder the shame of capitulation." 
" 3[o)i)iieur le Ghieral Ducrot etait tr(>s 
cmlte" stiys General De Wimpffen, in 
his account of the events at Sedan ; and 
he was, perhaps, exeusalile for his ex- 
citement, for, to be appointed to tlie 
command of a great army on the morn- 
ing of a battle, and, before one has time 
to get it into action, to be relieved of 
that command, is certainly enough to 
try the best of tempers. General De 
Winn)ffen saw that he had a cross to 
bear, and that he might as well pick it 
up and go forward bravely with it. He 
was full of contempt for the feebleness 
of the Emperor's character in this criti- 
cal moment, and did not hesitate to show 



252 



EVROPE IX RTOUM AMI CALM. 



Ills fcelinij,- durinn; tlio whole afternoon 
anil eM'niny. 

NeNcillieiess, he went off, as he was 
ordered tu do, to the Gevuian head- 
(luarters, wiiere he found Count Von 
liisuKirck and the venerable Von Moltke. 
lie had taken with him General De Cas- 
tehiaii, one of Najioleon III.'s aides-dc- 
ruiap, the mission of this gentleman 
l)eing to ask for Napoleon personally the 
least unfavorable conditions. This inter- 
view has been reported in divers versions 
by General De Wim[>ffiMi, Cieneral Du- 
erot, and by Bismarek himself. But all 
agree in saying that it was during a con- 
versation at tiiat time that ihe Germans 
first raised the (juestion of the cession of 
Alsatiaandof the German part of Lor- 
raine. "After some preliminary re- 
marks, Count Von Bismarck coming 
to speak about the probabilities of 
peace," says General De Wimpften in 
his account, "declared to me that 
Prussia hail a very firm intention of ex- 
acting not only a war indenniity of four 
milliards of francs, but more than that 
— the cession of Alsatia and (.Jerman 
Lorraine. ' This is the only guarantee 
offered us, because France is always 
threatening us, anil we must have as a 
solid protection a gDod advanced stra- 
tegical line.' 

It is pi-oliablc that a good advanecil 
strategical line was of more imiiortaut'e 
in tiie eves of the military and political 
authorities in Germany than the senti- 
mental aspects of the Alsatian question. 
This cool statement of Bismarck — that 
hr intiaiiled to wrest from France one of 
her fairest provinces and a goodly portion 
of another — was not at first taken 
seriously by fhe Freneli populations, 
lint, when they fully understood tliat it 
was the compicror's wish to talce Alsatia, 
a cry of horror and rebellion went np. 
It was this wdiieh made the feeling dur- 



ing the rest of the war so terribly bitter 
on the part of the French. 

Had peace l>eeu made at Sedan, and 
had the German armies retired without 
pursuing their march towards Paris, and 
without exacting territoi'ial compensa- 
tion, they would peiha[)S have lieen 
hailed l)y large classes of the French 
l)eople as the deliverers of the country 
from the nightmare of the P>mpire. But 
the pride of the French was touched to 
the quick when Ciermauy talked of tak- 
ing Alsatia ; and, reckless as it was to 
declare, as the government did later on, 
tluit France would not yield up a stone 
of iier fortresses or a handful of her ter- 
ritory, the declaration represented the 
unanimous oijiuion of the nation at that 
moment. General De Wimpft'en con- 
ducted himself with becoming dignity 
during this dillieult aud vexatious inter- 
view, and asked for his troops which had 
fought so well the conditions which had 
been given in days gone by to the gar- 
risons of JLiyenee and Genoa and of Ulm ; 
Imt Count ^'on Bismarek set this severe 
condition: " The French army nnist lay 
down its arms and lie sent into Ger- 
many." Count \'ou Bismarck added that, 
if this emidition were not comjilied with, 
lire would be opened at six o'clock in the 
morning. " Uesistaneo," he told the 
unfortnuate Frencli delegates, "is quite 
iuqiossilile ; von have neither food nor 
uumitioiis ; your armj' is decimated; 
our artillery is estalilished in batteries 
around the whole town, and could blow 
\\\-> vour troops liefore they could maive 
the least movement of consequence." 
tieneral De \V'iuipft'en told the conquer- 
ors that France had not wished the war ; 
that she was drawn into it by an agita- 
tion whieii was entirely on the surface ; 
thai the French nation was more pacific 
than the Germans were jileased to 
liclii'Vc; tliat all its aspirations weie 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



•253 



tovvards indiistrv, commerce, art, and, 
possibly, a little too much towards well- 
being and luxury. '-Do not," he said, 
wi(;li significant emphasis, " force France 
to learn anew the trade of arms. If you 
exact only a just indemnity, and do not 
wound the patriotic fibre of France by 
asking for territorial cession, you will 
act well for the durable peace between 
our countries." But De Wimpffeu, de- 
spite his eloquence, could obtain from 
the Germans uo promise, save that the 
fire should be opened from the batteries 
at nine o'clock in the morning instead of 
six, if the conditions demanded were not 
complied with. 

At tliis juncture the Emperor's aido-de- 
camp begged to be heanl, and Count 
Von Bismarck said he was now ready to 
listen to him. "The Emperor," said 
General Castelnau, " charged me to 
make the observation to Ills Majest}' 
tluit he had sent him his sword without 
conditions, and had personally given 
himself up absolutely at his mercy ; but 
tliat he had acted so only in the hope 
that the King of Prussia would be 
touched by so complete a surrender, 
that he would know how to api)reciate 
it, and that in consideration of it he 
would be good enough to accord to the 
French army a more honoraljle cai/itu- 
lation, to which it had won the right by 
its courage." 

Count Von Bismarck thought a mo- 
ment in silence ; then he said, " Is that 
all?" 

The General answered that it was. 

"But whose is the sword that the 
Emperor Napoleon III. has given up?" 
said Bismarck. "Is it the sword of 
France, or is it his own particular 
sword? If it is that of France, the con- 
ditions can be singularly modified, and 
your message would have a very grave 
character." 

/ 



'• It is only tlie sword of the Emperor," 
snid General De Castelnau. 

At this point, according to the recital 
of General De AVimpffeu and numerous 
other French versions. Count Von 
Moltke broke out quite joyfully : " In 
that case, nothing is to be changed iu 
the conditions;" and he added, "the 
Emperor will naturally obtain for his 
person whatever he is pleased to ask 
for." The French officers tliought there 
might be a secret divergence of opinion 
between Count Von Bismarck and Count 
Von Moltke ; that the diplomat was not 
sorry to see the war nearing its close ; 
while the General, on the contrary, was 
anxious to continue. The French delight 
in picturing Von Moltke as a sinister 
and cruel old man, wliose ambition is 
tempered in no sense by mercy, and who, 
to justify one of his mathematical cal- 
culations, would wade breast high in 
blood. 

A\"hcn General De 'Wimiiffen went 
back to the half-crazed inhabitants of 
Sedan they got down upon their knees 
to him and clutched his garments, and 
begged him not to sign the surrender. 
Il was one o'clock in the morning on the 
2d of September when he knocked at 
the Emperor's door. The Emperor had 
gone to bed. Outside, the chain of hills 
was covered with corpses ; the burning 
village of Bazeilles sent up its smoke to 
heaven ; the Freucli flng was dishonored ; 
the enemy's invasion was triumphant ; 
the road to Paris was open ; the Empire 
was lost ; but the Em[)eror had gone to 
bed ! 

At six o'clock iu the morning General 
De Wim[)ff'eu called a council of war of 
the generals commanding army corps, 
those commanding divisions, and those 
at the head of the artillery and engineer 
corps forming a part of it. The com- 
manding general briefly told his comrades 



254 



EriiOl'E J-V STon.U A.\D CALM. 



the result of liis inirfsiou. " From the 
very first words of our ooiivers;itiou," 
he said, •' I recognized that Count Von 
Moltlve, unl'oitnuately, had a eomi)h'te 
linowledge of our situation, and tliat he 
l<ne\v very well tliat tlie army was out of 
food and nuniitions. Count Von Molthe 
told nie that during tlie wliole battle of 
yesterday we had Ibught an army of 
two hundred and twenty thousand men, 
which h:id surrounded us on all sides. 
•General," he said, "we are dis|iosed 
to give yonr army, which has fought so 
well to-day, the most honorable condi- 
tions ; but they must be araenalile to onr 
government's policy. We demand tlie 
capitnlation of the French army. It 
must be prisoner of war. The officers 
sh;dl keep their swords and their personal 
property. The weapons of the soldiers 
must bede]iosited in some specified place 
in the town, to bo given \\\> to us.'" 
Ceneral De Wimpffen then asked his 
comiades if tliey thought it was possible 
still to go on with the light. The ma- 
jority answered no ; two Generals only 
exi)resscd the opinion that the army 
should cither defend itself within the 
fortress, or cut its way out at all hazards. 
They were told that tiie defense of Sedan 
was impossible, because of the lack of 
food ; that the roads and streets were 
so crowded with soldiers and baggMge 
and auunuiiition wagons that if (lie 
enemy's liri' were lirought to bear upon 
the town there would be frightful car- 
nao-e, witliont any useful result ; and so 
the two olliceis went over to the ma- 
.jority. 

Shortly after this council of war liroke 
u|i there was a min'nnir in the crowd, and 
a carriage made its way slowly through 
the throngs. This carriage contained 
the Emper(jr with three Generals, wlio 
were conversing with him in subdued 
tones. The Empcior was in nniforin. 



wearing tlie grand cordon of the Legion 
of Honor. He was quite [lale, but be- 
trayed uo emotion ; and his attention 
was absorbed by a cigarette, which he 
was traiKjuilly rolling. For a moment 
after the carriage had ainieared it seemed 
as if the crowds of soldiers and citizens 
who were thoroughly enraged against 
the Imperial occuiiant of the vehicle 
were abont to spring mtoii the anthor of 
their woes and tear him to [lieces ; but 
no one made a movement. A footman 
iu green livery pushed his way insolently 
through the masses. Behind the car- 
riage came grooms covered with gold 
lace and braid ; in fact, the Emperor 
went to his imprisonment in the same 
style with which he used to arrive on 
the lawn of Longehamp on the day of 
the Grand Prix. 

One single voice cried " VifcTEinpe- 
ri-'iir!" A citizen threw himself in front 
of the horses, seized by the legs a 
coipse which was stretched in the middle 
of the street, and dragged it hastily aside. 
Napoleon passed on to his surrender. 

At ten o'clock General De Wimjilfen 
relumed to the Prnssiau head-qnarters, 
and there found Napoleon, who had not 
yet been able to see the King of Prussia, 
and who was waiting for the signature 
of the caiiitulation liefore he could have 
his interview. 

Although the terras of this most im- 
portant surrender of modern times have 
been often published, it may be well to 
quote them here. 

riioTOCOL. 

Between the Undersigned — 

Tlio chief of the tjencnil staff of His Majosty 
King William, Comraamler-in-t'hiet of the 
Geniuin Army, ami the General Commaniler-in- 
Cliiefof the French armies, both furnished witli 
full powers from their Majesties King William 
ami tlu' KmiHTor Naiioleon, the following eon- 
vuMlion has lieen concluded: — 



EVROVE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



255 



Article 1. The army placed uiukr tin' 
orilcrs of General De Wimpffeii beiiif; at present 
surrounded by superior forces about Sedan is 
a prisoner of war. 

Article 2. Considering tlie valorous ile- 
fenee of this army, exception is made fur all 
tlie generals and officers, as well as for tlie 
special employes having the rank of officers, 
wlio will engage their written word of honor 
not to bear aims against Germany and to act 
in no manner against its interests up to the 
close of the present war. Officers and em- 
ployes who accept these conditions shall keep 
their arms and tlieir personal property. 

Article 3. All other arms, as well as the 
material of the army, consisting of flags, eagles, 
cannons, horses, army equipage, iiuinitions, 
etc. shall be delivered up at Sedan to a military 
commission appointed by the commander-in- 
cliief, to be given over immediately to the Ger- 
man commissioner. 

Article 4. The fortress of Sedan shall 
next be given up in its present condition, and 
not later than the evening of tlie 2d of Septem- 
ber, and placed at the disposition of His Maj- 
esty the King of Prussia. 

Article 5. Officers who do not make the 
engagement mentioned in Article 2, as well as 
the disarmed troops, shall be conducted away 
as prisoners classed with their regiments and 
corps and in military order. Tliis measure 
will begin on the 2d of Septeml)cr and finish 
on the 3d. This detaehment will be conducted 
on to the banks of the Meuse, near Iges, there 
to he handed over to the German commission- 
ers by their officers, who will then give the 
command to their sub-officers. Military 
physicians, witliout exception, shall remain be- 
hind to take care ot the wounded. 

Given at Fresnois, the 2d of September, 

1870. 

Signed. De Wniri'Fr.N. 

Von Moltke. 

This w:is the end of the }iiint:u-y his- 
tory of the Second Empire. 

•' This surrender," says the eminent 
German writer Von Wiekede, '-is the 
most important known in iiiilitary his- 
tory. It is a greater one tlian that of 
the Saxons at Konigstein ; of the Prus- 
sian General Fink, at Mayence. in the 
Seven Years' War ; of the Austrian Gen- 



eral ^Nlaek, near Uhu, in 180.5; of the 
Piussian General Prince Hohenlolie, at 
Prenslau, in 1806 ; of the French General 
Dupout, in 1809, at Baylen ; or of the 
Hungarian General Goergey, in 1849, at 
Villagos." The French, in short, gave 
up to the enemy at Sedan the Emperor, 
one French marshal, thirty-nine generals, 
two hundred and thirty officers of the 
general staff, two thousand and ninety- 
five otlicers, eighty-four thousand foiu- 
hundred and thirty-tiu'ee sub-ollicers and 
soldiers ; four hundred lield-|)ieces, one 
hundred and eiglity other cannon, and 
thirty thousand quintals of powder. The 
Germans did not succeed in attaining 
this result without the vigorous employ- 
ment of two hundred and forty thou- 
sand troops, assisted from first to last 
in the most intelligent manner by the 
op.'rations of a tremendous artillery 
corps with five hundred cannon. 

Both Count Von Bismarck and King 
William have given to the world their 
impressions of the curious events of the 
2d of September. Bismarck, in his 
report to the King of Prussia, written 
from Douehery, says that General 
Reille came to him at six o'clock in the 
morning to say that the Emperor wished 
to see hiin, and had already left Sedan 
to come to him. P>ismarck went forward 
about half waj' between Donchery and 
Sedan, near Fresnois, to meet the Em- 
jieror. "His Majesty was in an open 
carriage. Beside him wore three supe- 
rior officers, while several others were 
on liorseback near the carriage. Among 
these Generals, I knew personally Gen- 
erals Castelnau, Eeille, — Moskan, who 
seemed to be wounded, — and Vaubert. 
When I reached the carriage I got 
down from my horse, stepped u[) to the 
door, and asked what were His Majesty's 
orders. The Emperor expressed his 
desire to see Your Majesty. He ap- 



256 



EUROl'E IN' STOR.V AND CALM. 



pearcil to liave tlmunlit Yoiii- ^Injcsty 
was also at Donchery. I tolil liim that 
Your Majesty's liead-ciuarti'i's were at 
Veiulresse, three miles away. Then the 
Emperor asked if Your Majesty had 
fixed A i)laeo to which he could go, and 
what was mv opinion al)out the matter. 
I answered tiiat I had arrived here in 
complete darkness, that the country 
was, conse(inently, entirely unknown to 
me, lint that I placed at His Majesty's 
disposition the house I occupied at Don- 
chery, and that I would leave it at once. 
'I'lie Eni[)eror aceepU'd my offer, and 
went on to Donchery. But he stopped 
a few lunidred paces from the lii-idge 
over the Meiise, leading into the town, 
bel'oro a workman's house, which was 
com|)letely isolated, and he asked me 
if he could not stop there." Count Yon 
Bismarck had this house examincul, and 
found that it was a miscralile hovel half 
filled wilh wounded and dying soldiers. 
But (he Emperor halted there, and in- 
vited Bismarck to follow him into the 
house. There, in a little room, fur- 
nished wilh only a table and two chairs, 
the fallen Emperor and the successful 
diplomat had a conversation of wn liour's 
duration. The Emperor insisted on his 
desire to get the best terms for the ca- 
pitulation. Bismarck told him that he 
could not negotiate about sueli matters, 
as the military question had to be en- 
tirely decided between Clenerals \o\\ 
Moltke and De AVimpffen ; but he asked 
the Emperor if he was disjjosed to negoti- 
ate fur peace. The EmiK'ror said, as a 
prisoner, he was not in a situation t(j 
enter into negotiations. Bismarck then 
asked him what, in his opinion, was the 
representative power in France at that 
time ; and the Em|K'i'or suggested the 
government existing in Paris, meaning 
the regency of the Empress with her 
advisers. 



After a further conversation, in which 
Na|ioleon plaiulv saw that he liad little 
to hope from the flexibility of his adver- 
sary, he went out and sat down in front 
of tlie house, inviting Bismarck to sit 
beside him. He then asked Bismarck 
if it were possilileto let the French army 
cross the Belgian frontier, so as to lie 
disarmed by the Belgians. •• I had 
discussed this matter the previous even- 
ing," wrote Bismarck, "with (Jeneral 
"\'oii ]\Iollke ; I therefore refused to enter 
into this matter with the Emperor. I 
did not take the initiative in the discus- 
sion of the political situation. The I'"m- 
peror ouly alluded to it to de|ilore the 
evil of the war, and to declare that he 
himself had not wished for war, but that 
he had been forced into it liy the [iressure 
of pul)lic opinion in France." 

Between nine and ten o'clock in the 
morning, the rhi'iti'im of Bellevue, near 
Fre.snois was chosen as the [ilace to 
receive the Imperial prisoner. Count 
Von Bismarck accompanied the Em|ieror 
thither, [ireceded liy an escort taken 
from the King of Prussia's cuirassiers 
regiment. Here General De Wim|)ffeu 
and most of the members of Count Von 
Moltke's staff were assembled, and here 
Napoleon remained until the ca[iitulation 
was signed. 

'I'heold King of Prussia, wliohad lieeu 
saluted everywhere throughout his army 
on the previous evening with the echoes 
of the national hynni, and with impromptu 
illuminations, went out at eight o'clock 
in the morning to look over the field of 
liattle. As he arrived on the lield lie 
saw Von Moltke coming to meet him, 
and there learned of Napoleon's depart- 
ure from Sedan. " Al)Out ten o'clriek," 
he says in his account, " I came out 
U|)on the heights near Sedan. At noon. 
Count A'on Jloltke and Bismarck came 
to me with tlie ti'eaty of capitulation. At 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



-2bl 



one o"dock, I started with Fritz (the 
name by which he always mentioned tbe 
Crown Prince) escorted by the cavalry 
of the general staff. I got down from 
my horse in front of the chdteau, and 
the Emperor came out to meet me. The 
interview lasted about a quarter of an 
hour. We were both very much moved 
by meeting under such circumstances. 
I cannot express all I felt when ! remeui- 
bercd tliat tln'ee years before I had seen 
the Emperor at the very height of his 
power." 

After this brief interview, the old 
King, followed by his brilliant statf, 
continued his journey across the battle- 
field. From Bazeilles to Illy, the hills 
and the fields were literally- covered with 
dead men. Everywhere were dismounted 
cannon, broken guns, pillaged haver- 
sacks, ruined drums ; here in the fields 
of beet-root or in the lines between the 
gardens, were heaps of men with their 
heads blown into fragments or their 
entrails escaping from gaping wounds 
in their abdomens. Here were men who 
had been struck dead in the act of kneel- 
ing to fire their guns ; and a writer, who 
went over the field of battle on this day, 
says that many of the corpses occupying 
still in death the attitude of life made 
the field of battle resemble a field peopled 
with wax figures. A visitor went up to a 
captain of the Twentieth of the French 
line, who was seated at the foot of a tree, 
holding his head in his hands, and ap- 
parently bending over a letter which he 
was holding open. The visitor touched 
the man on tlie shoulder, and the body 
fell forward. The officer h:;d been dead 
for hours. 

Those who have been witnesses of a 
great battle, or who have been over a 
battle-field shortly after the collision, 
remember how they shrank instinctively 
from the first spectacles of horror, but 



how readily they became accustomed to 
the evidences of carnage, and how, little 
by little, a thirst for the accumulation of 
horrors stole upon them. One becomes 
rapidly accustomed to the sight of piled- 
np heaps of corpses, to the carcasses of 
horses torn and harrowed by shell and 
by bullets, to the village street with its 
evidences at every step of a sanguinary, 
hand-to-hand encounter, and to the little 
rivulets into which the blood has poured so 
as to turn their gurgling currents a pale- 
red. On the field of Sedan, death was 
in hundreds of cases hideous, and beyond 
description, for the shell-fn-e had been 
something more terrilile than was known 
in an^- previous modern battle. Hun- 
dreds of heads were torn oft', limbs were 
rent from their bodies, I.)rains were scat- 
tered on the ground. Down by Bazeilles, 
companies had been literally- torn to 
pieces. 

The French, for a long time after the 
battle of Sedan, published horrible tales 
of the massacre of women and children 
in Bazeilles by the Bavarians, and con- 
tinued to assert that hundreds of innocent 
persons were burned alive when the 
village was set on fire. That there was a 
frightful carnage in and about Bazeilles, 
no one would presinne to deny ; but that 
the Germans deliberately burned any of 
the inhabitants is not susceptible of 
proof. General Von der Taun feltcalled 
upon to defend himself and his troops 
from the charge of supreme cruelty which 
had been brought against him, and his 
official report shows tliat, out of the total 
civil population of Bazeilles during the 
fight, the number of dead, wounded, and 
disappeared was thirty-nine, and the only 
persons burned or suffocated during the 
euuHagration were two bedridden women, 
three men, and three children. 

General Von der Taun is the person- 
age who, when he was asked by his 



258 



ECKOl'E Jy STORM AXD CALM. 



Bavnriims if tliey miolit sack a certain 
towu iu the soulli of France, in tlie Loiic 
district, where tliey had heen lather 
roughly handled, answered, '• Sack it 
moderately ! .Sack it moderately." I was 
told this at Veisaillcs by a person who 
heard it said. 

On the ."id of Septenilier, at seven 
o'clock in the morning, the fallen 
Napoleon set out from the Chateau of 
Bellevue for (icrraany by way of Bel- 
gium. His road led him jiast the most 
frightful part of the liattle-tield, and he 
must have been struck with the irony of 
destiny when he remembered that not a 
great many years before he had atiirmed 
in a speech iu a French city that the 
Empire meant peace. The greeting of 
the Emperor on nis wa\ through Bel- 
gium was, on the whole, cordial, and he 
was repeatedly cheered, though iu one 
or two cities he was hoofed. lie ar- 
rived iu Bouillon at live o'clocli in the 
afternoon on the .'Id of September, and 
from thence went hy rail to Lii'ge, 
Cologne, and Cassel, where the beauti- 
ful castle of Wilhelmshrihe had been 
made leady for him. Among the (ieuer- 
als who accompanied him into his 
captivity were Generals Douet, Lebrun, 
Castelnau, De Eeille, De Vaubert, Prince 
Ney, Prince Murat, Prince Moskowa, 
and twenty other oflicers of various 
grades. A number of high Prussian 
officers were also in his train. His 
servants, carriages, and .about eighty- 
fivo horses foUoweil in a se|iarate train. 
The cari-iage in which the Emperor trav- 
elled to his cai)tivity was simply a 
saloon belonging to tlie Luxemlwurg 
railway, and often used by the Prince 
of Flanders. It was divided into three 
compartments, one chief central saloon, 
and two small i-diipea. The Emperor 
occupied one of the latter, and rarely 
left it during the journey. He wore the 



nnilorm of a French general; his breast 
was covered uith a numl}ei' of order.s. 
It was said that he had to borrow from 
the Prussian general who accompanied 
hira to Cassel 10,000 francs, in order 
to give gratuities iu the manner custom- 
ary to emiierors under any circum- 
stances. This was certainly a sad fall 
for a monarch who. three weeks pre- 
viously, had enjoyed the largest civil list 
in Europe. 

The receiition of the Emperor in Ger- 
many was respectful, though at Cologne 
the officers who accomi)anied him had to 
restrain the crowd, who were inclined to 
a hostile demonstration. Some of the 
German papers remarked that Napoleon 
was ti'cated with singular kindness by a 
peoiile who had, through him alone, lost 
l.")0,000 sons, brothers, and husltands. 
The papers were tilled with joyful quips 
and jests, all bearing more or less upon 
the captivity of the Emperor. At the 
lieginning of the war a (ierman sent 
two louis for King William's Vereiu for 
the wounded in Berlin, adding to his 
contribution these words, which became 
proiihetic : •' I give two louis with a 
will to King William's good Vereiu. He 
who will send the third Louis in is King 
William, I opine." This doggerel be- 
came very popular iu Germany, and the 
Yercin in time acknowledged the recei|)t 
of the third Louis. 

The selection of Wilhelmshohe. or 
"William's Height, as a residence for the 
ex-Emperor during his captivity was the 
suliject of much comment in the Cierman 
press. This is one of the most beauti- 
ful residences in Germany. It is some- 
times called the Versailles of Cassel. 
The palace is a low Init extensive build- 
ing, full of beautiful works of art, 
Ijaintiugs, tapestries, marbles, just as 
they were left by the Elector of Ilau- 
over in 18GG, when ho fell a prisoner to 



EUROPE IiV STORM AND CALM. 



259 



Kiug William of Prussia. It was here, 
too, that Napoleon III.'s micle, King 
J6r6me, stayed during his sojourn 
in Westphalia from 1807 to 1813. 

J(§n"ime liad done nnich to make Wil- 
helrasholie resemble Versailles. Ou Na- 
poleon's arrival at the railway 
station at Cassel he was re- 
ceived with roj'al honors. A 
eompany of the Eightieth regi- 
ment of infantry saluted him 
just as they would have saluted 
the King of Prussia. The 
heads of the civil and military 
departments met him and gave 
him an otlieial welcome. Na- 
poleon looked weary and as if 
he suffered from liver com- 
plaint. His eyes were dull 
and his walk was heavy. A 
single hussar rode before his 
carriage as he was taken to 
the castle. Soldiers turned 
out and received him with 
drums sounding and presented 
arms. Dinner was laid for 
twenty persons, and Napoleon 
and his suite did amitle justice to the 
viands spread before tliem. The King of 
Prussia sent down his own cook and lirst 
chamberlain and several of his servants 
from Berlin to Wilhelnishohe, and all 
were ordered to pay the greatest atten- 
tion to their guest. Here Napoleon 
seemed suddenly struck with old age. 
He passed entire mornings, now bent 
over in an easy-chair napping and mus- 
ing, now in a long gallery of the con- 
servatory, leaning upon a cane or on the 
arm of his faithful doctor, Conneau. 
As in the words of one who saw him 
at Wilhehiisliohe only a few days after 
his arrival there, he had grown old, weak, 
spare, and liis hair was gray. The 
Napoleonic curl had disap|ieared, the 
characteristic Napoleon moustache had 



lost its kink, and hung loosely down 
to the corners of tlie moutli. The 
man of the 2d of December had be- 
come the man of the 2d of Septem- 
ber, after a reign of eighteen years, 
less one quarter, neither a day more 




NAroLEOX III. rRIS(.>N-ER AT WILHELMS- 
IIOUE. 

nor a day less, as old Nostradamus 
prophesied. 

The German writers, indulging iu 
various caprices about the war, discov- 
ei-ed that it was not strange tliat Moltke 
should have vanquished Napoleon, be- 
cause the letter M plays a great r6le in 



260 



Ei'ROPE IN STOIi.V AND CALM. 



the history of the Nnpolcons. ^[lll^hll'llf, 
say these |)h«lding Germans, »fts the 
first to recognize the genius of Napoleon 
I. in tlie young niilitai-y seliohir. Md- 
renr/ov/UH the first great battle (jf General 
Bonai)arte ; MhIim eleared out of Italy 
before him ; Mortii'r was his favorite 
general; Moretm betrayed liiin ; Miirat 
was his first maityr ; Marti- Louise, the 
Companion of his greatest fortune ; Mos- 
coiv his deepest abyss ; and MdJviin a 
diplomat whom he could not master. 
Mni-ini'iia, Moiiier, 3fannont, MacDon- 
ald, 3fiir(it, ami Man-ci/ were among his 
marshals ; and twenty-six of his division 
generals had M as the initial letter of 
their names. His first battle was at 
MontermoU ; his last, Mont St. Jean, at 
Waterloo. He won the battles of Mides- 



siiiiO. Mi)'>i1on\ Marcuijo, on the Mos- 
Ixowa, Mireil, Monteiican, and Montenau. 
Milan was the first and Moskowa the last 
place which lie entered as victor. At 
>St. Helena 3ri)iithiih)ii was his first 
chamberlain, and Marchaut his compan- 
ion. He lost Egypt tlu'ough Meiion. and 
took the Pope prisoner tlu'ough MeioUes. 
He was conspired against by Mallet : and 
three of his ministers were called Maret, 
Moidalivet, and 31allieu. His last resi- 
dence in France was Malmaison. Look- 
ing up the M's in the history of Napoleon 
in., the Germans begin with what they 
call the French defeats at McU. then 
the disaster at Sedan under MacMahon ; 
then the generalship of Moltke ; and so 
tliey go on in their innocent array of 
alliteration. 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



261 



CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN. 



A Solemn Situation. — Return of the Exiles.— Thi; .Spoils at the Tuilcries. — Advance of the Germans. — 
The jMilitury Stren^'th of the French Capital. — The Sixteenth Siege of Paris. — Closing in. — 
Curious Fights in tlic Capital. — General Trochu's Review. — A Visit to Asnieres. — Prussian Prison- 
ers. — The Fight at ChatiUon. — The French Retreat. — The Occupation of Versailles. — The 
Crown Prince of Prussia visits the Old Home of Louis XIV. 



A GREAT sileuee fell upon Paris 
for a few days after the declara- 
tion of the Republic. People came and 
went as if they were c.irryiiig hoavj' 
loads. The responsibilities of the mo- 
ment weighed upon every one's shoulders 
alike. JNIen had awakened from a 
dream, and were facing a harsh reality ; 
the enemy was in front, and civil war, 
despite the greatest vigilance and 
adroitness on the part of the political 
managers, w;xs beginning to appear in 
the background. " France," said a 
writer in the ^'^ Revue des Deux Mondes" 
in describing these days, " has taken 
possession of herself once more, with- 
out battle, without bloodshed, and by 
a kind of sudden effort of patriotism 
and despair in presence of the eueiuy." 
Gambetta's proclamation announcing 
the formation of the government of 
National Defence was received with 
general favor, but without much ap- 
plause in Paris. The great capital had 
spent all its enthusiasm on the day of 
the 4th ; Marseilles went wild with joy ; 
Mont|)ellier, Havre, Vtileuce, Nantes, 
and Lyons gave themselves up to re- 
joicings, which were perhaps reasonable 
enough, as all these cities fancied that 
Paris would now take " the deliverance 
in hand," and would carry it trium- 
phantly to a close. The city of Lille 
sent a despatch to the capital saying 
that the population of Paris hail de- 
served well of the country. Gambetta 



sent the new representative of the 
people to penetrate into besieged Stras- 
bourg and take his place there as pre- 
fect of the Republic. Victor Hugo came 
home from exile, and hail a temperate 
ovation at tlie Northern r;iihv;iy sttition, 
where lie liad made a speech saying that 
" Paris could never be captured by as- 
sault ; " and it is noteworthy that the 
Prussians tlid not try to demonstrate 
the untruth of this remark. The old 
poet had sttid, before his return, "I 
shall inscribe myself as a national 
guard in the ward where I sh;dl take 
up my abode, and I will go on to the 
ramparts with my gun on my shoulder." 
He brought back with him the almost 
old-fashioned phraseology, wliich was 
considered so vigorous and manly when 
he left France after the eoivp d'Efat. 
In his train came the other men who 
had been proscrilied during the reign 
of Louis Napoleon, Edgar Quinet and 
Louis Blanc, whose first visit was to 
Jules Favre, who had been instrumental 
in getting him sent into exile. The 
more enlightened Radicals forgot their 
own quarrels with tiie moderate Repub- 
licans, and rallied with them to the 
defence of the country. The recogni- 
tion of the new Republic by the minister 
of the United States was eminently 
gratifying to the little group of depu- 
ties who had undertaken so formidable 
a task. 

A committee was intrusted with the 



262 EUROPE IX STOUM AND CALM. 

examination (if the gruat iinmber of pri- noil, if ueeossarv, lie niouuted on its 
rate pajiers found in tile jialaee of tlie walls? "A sinijile line of sokliei's [ilaced 
Tuileries, and was instructed to pulilish outside the reaeli of the guns, and par- 
tliom for the infoi'mati<in of the pufilic. allel to the outer works," s;iid the military 
lint the i)apers found had no relation to authorities, " wonld require ninety-six 
the niYstericjus scandals or the social thousand men ! " llnw then could the 
dramas so frequent under the Empire. Prussians bring u;! a force tremendous 
The committee discovered that in Xa- enougli to establisli a siege of Paris? The 
poleon's library an elaborate nu'Uioir city was divided into five great military 
destined to enlighten the Emperor of centres internally ; and each of these 
the French on the state of the mill- centres was in itself a detached fort, 
tary forces <if the Confederation of the Within and without, the nolile citadel 
north of (lc4Muany had scarcely been was strong. Itesidt's, could not the hun- 
tonched. but that Ixoman medals, bits dreds of thousands of men within the 
of history and inscri[ilions, calculated to walls swoop out by night and crush the 
figure in the work on Ca-sar, with which daring invader? It was evident that be- 
the Emperor had amused himself, and fore the walls of Paris the country was 
romantic pi'ojects, like that for annexa- to lie avenged. Whether on the side 
tion of lielgium, had absorbed the Ini- towards the JIarne — whei'e were the 
perial attention. In the lilirary of the formidable redoubts of Noisy, 3Iartrcuil, 
Empress the e\idence of the lillra-cleri- Boissii'^re, and Fontenay, and where the 
cal turn of her mind w.is to be found on famous ca.mp of St. Maur was en- 
cvcry hand. The bones of saints and trenched ; whether away lieyond on the 
pious relics were hung u]ion the walls, corni'r made by the junction of the Seine 
and contrasted strangely with llie painted and the Marne, where stood the proud 
ceilings filled with Cn|iicls and figures of fort fif Chareuton, including within its 
gods and goddesses. The works of Proud- walls a space for the encani|imeut of two 
lion wert' side by side with the fantastic hundred thousand men ; or whether, 
romances of the eighteenlh ceiiturv ai;ain, upon the southward line, on the 
or severe ti'oatises on ndigious duty, left banlc of the Seine, where stood in 
'• There was.'' says a Freni'h writer, " a stout Ijrotherhood the forts of Ivry, 
curious mixtuie of rice-powder and in- Bieetre, iMontrouge, and Vanves ; or, 
cense in the Empress's boudoir, quite yet again, u|ion the western line, strong 
characteristic of this Spanish piety." by nature, and stronger still with its 
All this tinu' the Prussians were com- proud Jlont Valcrien, the prince of I^iri- 
iug rapidly on, ami provineial troops siaii strongholds, contnilling all the conn- 
were pouring into Paris, the only great try round atiout — there might be an 
rallying point now left. These country attack, there seemed no cause for appre- 
folk, — theP.retons, the Pxiurguignons, in liensioii. Here was a grand " circum- 
their lilue blouses, the stalwart men of ferencc line." thirty mile-i hmg, around 
Auvergne, and the lithe and sinewy chil- which there was complete telegraphic 
dreuof the south, felt a. new confidence as connnunication, and from which there 
they set their feet williin the walls of the were subterranean [lassages for sorties, 
capital. For li<i\v could it be taken? Citizens and llu' soldiers felt a kind 
Had it not sixteen hundred regular siege- of joy in the (irospoct of the coming 
i;uns? and I'ould not fi\e thousand can- conllict. and never dreamed of failure. 



EUROPE IN fiTORM AXD CALM. 



2r.3 



General Trochu began to talk aliout the 
" useless mouths," and to send out of 
the city day by day large processions of 
vagabonds, of suspected persons, of 
women and children who were likely to 
fail of means of support. Every one 
who remained was expected to contrib- 
ute heartily to the sturdy defence, and, 
possibly, to ortbiisive movements. 

Tliis was the sixteenth siege of Paris. 
In the year 5.3, B.C., Labienus, the 
energetic lieutenant of Juliuts Caesar, 
laid siege to the island on whidi the 
Lutetians had built the Paris of that day, 
and so worried them that, after a time, 
they burned their town, and retired as 
best they could. Five hundred and 
thirty years after tliis siege the Romans 
held the town, and Childerie, the first 
chief of the Franks, cast covetous eyes 
upon the long rows of nolile buildings 
spread out on either bank of the Seine ; 
and, by-and-by, he laid siege witli suc- 
cess. Then came the Normans in 80;') ; 
and they pillaged church and monastery, 
and threw many of tlie inhaliitants into 
the flames. Driven out, they came 
again sliortly after ; and this time, the 
Parisians repeated the trick of their 
forefathers, the Lutetians, — tliey burned 
their own town, and retreated. Once 
more, in 861, an enormous band of 
Norman brigands arrived to jiillage 
Paris, besieged it, and took it, but 
found little therein About this time, 
the idea of extensive fortifications arose, 
and walls were built in haste ; but before 
tbey were completed, back came the 
persistent Normans, with an army of 
thirty' thousand men, and laid a siege 
which lasted two years. As the Nor- 
mans were about to retire, Charles le 
Gros capitulated, to his own dreadful 
disgrace, and made a shameful jieaee : 
whereupon he was impeached and lost 
his throne. 



In 13.')8 the Danphin tiied in vain to 
take Paris, and in the following year 
the King of Elngland tiied, and had also 
to give it nil. But in 14:25 tlie English 
had better success, and Lutetia bowed 
her neck to them for fourteen years. 
In 1427 Charles VII. tried to reconquer 
the city ; but the ICnglish laughed him to 
scorn. In 14G2 the Duke of Burgundy 
ravished all the country around, and sat 
down to a siege, liut had poor luck. In 
1404 the Comte De Cliarlois surrounded 
the city with his men-at-arms, but soon 
went away crestfallen. In 153G Charles 
Quint, the then king, battered down the 
walls. Under Ilcnry III. and Henry 
IV. Paris sustained the world-renowned 
siege of 1593 ; and in 1814 the allies, 
after a short delay outside the gates, 
rambled at their own sweet will through 
the avenues of the town. 

One of the sights in the gardens and 
puldie parks during these few da^'s, 
between the declaration of tiie Republic 
and the final investing of tlie city, was 
the daily drill of the citizens. Thou- 
sands of men, dressed in their every-day 
clothes, with blue sashes tied about their 
waists, anil numbers on their breasts, 
went awkwardly, but with great deter- 
mination, through tiie military evolutions 
under the directions of angular sergeants, 
who never smiled, no matter liow ridicu- 
lous the butcher and the liaker looked in 
their soldier clothes. The National 
Guard, in its stiff, tall hats, and its blue 
uniforms, daily did twelve hours' duty ou 
the fortifications. The hotel-keepers, 
the merchants, the tradesmen of all 
classes, shut up their sliops, and re- 
nounced all idea of profit. The Tm-cos 
and the .Spahis, some eighteen thousand 
strong, were praised and Jvtcd wlierever 
tliey went within the city. Hundreds 
of refugees from the envii'ons of Sois- 
sous, fugitives from Sedan, people who 



204 



EUROPE /y STORJf AXD CALM. 



Tvcre half-stnrved. covorod with dust, and 
in many cases witli mud, their garments 
in tatters, came straggling in, I saw 
men who had been without food for days, 
and who solilwd over the bits of bread. 
The most affecting spectacle was tlie 
daily arrival of the peasant families from 
the little towns around Paris, They 
came in by hundreds upon hundreds, 
General Trochu growling, and announc- 
ing his intention to pass them on through 
the city to a safer part of France. But, 
poor things ! thej' never left the com- 
fortable shelter of the walls when once 
within. They camped in slieds, in grana- 
ries, in railway carriages no longer in use, 
in cafi's, wliieh the pi-oprietors generously 
offered them. There were ten thousand 
refugees fi-om Strasbourg alone. 

All the beggars drove a thriving trade 
in tricolor Kepublican " liberty- trees" 
and caricatures of the deposed Emperor. 
If a wounded soldier stopped on the 
street to talk, he was surrounded at 
once by hundreds of eager listeners, 
and he usually got a hatful of money. 
The populations refused to believe that 
INIaciMahon was not dead. The story 
that he was a prisoner was distasteful. 
On the Champ de ]\Iars thousands of 
ti'oops paraded ; along the river opposite 
Trocadero a huge stocUade was placed ; 
and on the heights of Passy fortifica- 
tions bristled. 

On the 1-lth of September Geu'-ral 
Trochu Iielil a, review, and the ari-ay of 
forces was certainly imposing. Even 
the Parisians, with their tendency to ex- 
aggerate the numliers of their defenders, 
had not believed that the town contained 
such a gigantic army. The line of 
troops extended from tlie Arc de Tri- 
omphe to the Bastile, and numliercd 
three hundicd tlicnisnnd men. And 
what a chattering, motley, noisy line of 
troops it was ! Ever3- complexion and 



every accent and dialect in France were 
represented. Jules Favre and the other 
members of the Provisional Government, 
as it was then called, had wished to ac- 
company Genera! Trochu as he rode 
along the line ; but he had olijected, and 
said, " Yon cannot ride, and you do not 
want to make yourselves ridiculous be- 
fore till' Parisians." <S'i non (5 vera i hen 
triivato^ for Favre and Gambetta would 
have looked rather absurd caricoling be- 
fore (he National Guard and the Com- 
iiuniists //' C'.s-.ye. Immense crowds of 
women, all wearing the tricolor, and all 
babbling like magpies, followed the Gen- 
eral and his staff, commenting and chaf- 
fing the workmen and the bom-geois, and 
indulging in lively curses upon the in- 
vading Prussians. 

On the (bay after the review I went 
out at dusk to Asni^res, to discover 
whether the bridges over the Seine were 
to be blown up, and I found thousands 
of men, half-naked, toiling on the outer 
works of tlie fortifications. As yet there 
was no water in the ditches ; but it 
was only the work of a few hours to fill 
the moats. The w-alls looked more 
formiil;d)le than ever before. Here the 
appi'cKtches were distinctly diflicult. As 
I arrived outside tiie walls the sunset 
had cast a certain glory on the western 
sky tiuit tlirew everything into relief, 
except tlie dark outlines of the gigantic 
fort (if Mont Valerien : ami this rose 
tlirongh a kind of tremulous mist, frown- 
\n<X and sombre. The hills and woods 
beyond in.ade a black baokgroniid, into 
wliich the great mass of masonry slowly 
melted, and was lost t(5 view. For the 
first time I realized that Paris is a forti- 
fied city. On whichever side I gazed I 
saw a grim, high wall, witli a black- 
nosed cannon leering from its top, 
stretching away, and the sentinels prom- 
enading, — vainglorious cockneys, no 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



205 



doubt, but willino; to do their best for tlie 
defense of their country. Asni6res was 
deserted ; the pretty water-side villas 
were empty ; there was nothing to eat 
in tile town. 1 had to satisfy two or 
three venerable fanatics that I was not 
a spy, after which tliey told me that the 
Prussian Lancers had been seen the day 
before in the neighborhood of Bas 
Meudon and Sevres, and that the treas- 
ures of porcelain had been brought in 
great haste from the factory at (Sevres 
into Paris. 

Next morning, when I went out upon 
the stieet, I found all Paris in emotion. 
All my French friends were livid with 
excitement. The advance of tlie Ger- 
man army had appeared close to Paris ; 
some Prussian prisoners had been taken, 
and were now on the streets, being 
paraded up and down. I went to see 
them. Near the Cafe Americain stood 
one of eight Uhlans, who had been dis- 
mounted, wounded, and captured. He 
had been allowed to retain his lance, as 
his captors fancied that this would give 
him an artistic flavor. The crowd, above 
which he towered like a Brobdignag, was 
enormous ; and some of the market- 
women, who had been having a perpetual 
holiday since the declaration of the Re- 
pulilic, cried out, " Down with them ! 
Death to them ! " But no one offered vio- 
lence. Some of the prisoners afterwards 
complained that they had had their 
decorations torn off ; Init none of them 
were hurt. The moment any one at- 
tempted to incite to bloodshed, a man 
would climb up to the nearest elevated 
point and "•entreat his brethren not to 
bring disgrace on to the Republic ; " 
whereupon everybody would shout for 
order, and tlie amial)le goddess, Reason, 
would resume her throne. 

As soon as the Germans were signalled 
in the immediate vicinity, fires were set 



in the forests as a warning to the popu- 
lations that had not already retreated. 
This measure was misunderstood iu 
Paris, and was attributed to the van- 
dalism of the Prussians ; and thousands 
of people flocked up to the heights of 
Montmartre to see the fires and to pro- 
claim that the Prussians as they came in 
were burning all the villages right and 
left. In the wood of Montmorency, at 
Stains, aud at Le Bourget, the fires 
raged for hours. All along the route 
from Drancy to Bondy, innumerable 
small fires, like ground stars, were 
twinkling. The rumors were magnified 
.as they drifted down from the heights of 
Montmartre to the grand boulevards, 
and the Parisians went to rest that night 
convinced that the Prussians had burned 
at least a hundred towus, whereas they 
had really burned nothing at all. 

On the loth, as a passenger train 
rolled into the station of Senlis, it was 
taken by the Prussians. On the same 
day, near Chantilly, another train was 
shot at by Prussians posted along the 
line ; and iu the afternoon the governor 
of Paris received a despatch from 
Vineennes, saying that the advance- 
guard of a large German colunni had 
been seen between Creteil and Neuilly 
on the Marne. This looked very much 
as if Paris would shortly be invested. 

On the 16th the Orleans line was cut. 
On the 17th a Prussian detachment 
crossed the Seine at Choisy-le-Roi ; on 
the 18th a strong column crossed the 
river at Villeneuve St. Geoi'ges. Here 
there was an encounter, which tlie jour- 
nals of Paris at tlie time called the first 
battle near the capital. I found, on the 
evening of the ISth, that I had to choose 
between imprisonment in Paris during 
the siege, and the chances of witnessing 
the operations from without. I deter- 
mined to visit the lines in front of 



2Gfi Et'RorE IN STONM AXD CALM. 

Strasbourg, imd thon. if possibk', to who h:nl attat-kcd the Oeniuiii coluinu as 

make my way through the oeeiipied it was inoving along the higiiway. The 

eountry, to the German head-(iuarters, a forests in the neiglilioriiood df Seeaiix, 

trip which, I thought, wouUl oeeupy at Bagneux, and C'laraart hail not been 

best tliree or four days, but whieii thinned away to allow of military niove- 

[irovi'd much longer and more ditlieult ments ; and tiie Germans readily found 

than r had imngined. shelter there. '•Ambuscaded liehind the 

I left Paris on the evening of the trees," says C'laretie, '• the I'rnssians 

ISth by one of the last trains which tired exactly as they did at Forbach, 

went out of the capital, and the last directly into the masses of advancing 

words I iieai'd within the walls were: French troops. The disaster was great. 

" It will all be over in a fortniglit. Tlie Some of our Mobile battalions tired into 

Germans will be jiushed back. Tlu'V the IGtIi French line, wiiile the Zouaves, 

cannot resist tlie tremeudi)us forces formed out of the renmauts of the regi- 

withiu the capital." I went to Rouen, ments of the Ardennes, Ked in disorder, 

from thence to Dieppe, tlieuce tc) Dover, iianic-stricken, throwing away their guns, 

thence to Ostend, and so presently and dragging with them in this i)i-ecipi- 

found myself again in (icrmany and on tate retreat the greater part of the army, 

the way to Strasbourg. A reginuait of cavalry coni|ioscd of 

If it had not been for the unfortunate cuirassiers, of carabiniers, of chasseiu'S, 

atfair at C'hatilhin, the prophecy which I of gendarmes, a mixed regiment, which, 

heard as I left the walls of I'aris migiit in its picturesque amalgamation gave a 

have proved true ; hut the ra|iidly ad- melancholy idea of the few forces left to 

vancing enemy, wdiieh ought to have France — this regiment ti-ied to stop the 

received a severe cheek, was allowed to runaways. The artillery kc|it its posi- 

effect ail easy victory in its endeavor to tiou, and bravely answered the Cierman 

take the plateau of C'hatillou : and it was batteries; Init it was all in vain: the 

not only successful in doing this, but it troops wavered and lied. From the 

created a verital)le panic among the heights of the redonlit of C'hatillon, so 

poorly disciplined troops with whom hastily aliandoned liy us, the German 

it came into contact. On the l.sth of batteries sent their shells into our dis- 

September, General Ducrot, who had ordeied regiments." 

already escaped from the I'russian lines ]M. Francisque Sarcey, the I'l Irlirated 
anil got safely b.ack to Paris, occupic(l, critic, who saw this retreat from the 
witli four dixisions of the infaidry of the ])latean of Cliatilloii. thus describes it: 
line, the heiglits of \'illcjuif and tlio>e of ■■ I shall uexi'r forget the dolorous sen- 
INIeudon. In the evening, he made a satiou which pierced my heart like a 
cavtdry recoimoissance to see what were sharp .-irrow. Here was a retreat in all 
the movements of the enemy. He was its hiileousness. Soldiers of all branches 
naturally anxious to hinder the Germans of the ser\ic came disbanded, straggling, 
from continuing their march upon ^'er- or in liroken platoons, some without 
sailles, wliich seemed to be their obj<>etive their haversacks or weapons, some still 
point. At daybrealc on the liUh there armed, but all stamped with the stigma 
was a general engagement, in which the of desertion, .\nibulance wagons, mas- 
division of General d'Exea took a part, terless horses, broken amnumition 
sustaining some of the Francs-Tireurs, carriages, strayed to and fro in a dis- 



EUROPE ry STORM AND CAL.If. 



2()7 



ordered crowd. On eitlier side of the 
road, on the sidewalks, there was an 
enormous mass of women and children, 
anxiously asking al)oiit the survivors, or 
heaping reproaches and menaces upon 
the drunken and discouraged soldiery, 
because there were wretches in uniform 
who were intoxicated and who staggered 
along against the wails. Cries, songs, 
imjirecations, laughter, weeping, the 
groans of the wounded and the oatlis of 
the wagoners, and, over and above all, 
the indistinct growling of the crowd, the 
far-off thunder, like that of the ocean in 
days of tempest, was most impressive. 
We came back to Paris in despair. On 
theboulevards we heard that twenty thou- 
sand of our soldiers had been comiiletely 
crushed by one hundred tiiousand Prus- 
sians, near Clamart, that the whole 
army had thrown away its weapons, de- 
claring that it could figlit no longer, and 
that the victorious troops were i^ursuing 
the retreating French. 

"The National Guards, furious, took 
the deserters by the collar, called them 
cowards, and carried them off, with many 
blows from their musket-butts, to the 
police stations, or to the Place VendOme. 
The exasperated crowd spat in the faces 
of the miserable men who had dishonored 
their uniform and the name of French- 
men. There was a universal cry against 
tlie Zouaves and the Lancers, and their 
execution was clamored for." 

Meantime the Prussians had installed 
themselves in Versailles. They had sur- 
rounded the old town on all sides from 
a distance, as early as the 18th ; and the 
Uhlans had had confided to them the 
task of discovering the condition of the 
town, and entering it for a requisition. 
The enemy appears to have had a very 
correct estimate of the number and 
quality of the forces there, and to have 
determined to have the head-quarters 



of one of its armies at Versailles, both 
for the romance and the practical ad- 
vantage of the thing. The Mayor of 
Versailles, rejoicing in his new-found 
Re[)ublican dignity, was assembling the 
wise men of the place for a parley con- 
cerning precautionary measures, on the 
morning of the 18th, when it was an- 
nounced that tiiree Hussars, each of 
whom wore a skull and crossbones on 
his cap, were outside tiie town, and de- 
sired to speak with His Honor the Mayor. 
These bold horsemen came up through 
a long line of the National Guard, few of 
whom hacl any gnus. But the Mayor re- 
fused to see them unless they could 
l^resent the authority of some General : 
therefore they were withdrawn . Pearly the 
next morning an (lide-de-camp, followed 
by a single horseman, came again to see 
the municipal autliorities. He spent the 
greater part of tiie morning in conversa- 
tion with the Mayor, representing to him 
the uselessness of lesistance. But his 
talk, emphatic though it was, perhaps 
did not [iroduce so much effect as the 
thunder of the cannon, which was now 
heard between Versailles and Sceaux.. 
This cannonading appears to have con- 
vinced the good ]Mayor that there was a 
large Prussian army at hand, and he was 
wavering between capitulation and a 
hopeless resistance, when there suddenly 
arrived from the same direction as the 
aide-flv-camp a captain of engineers, also 
an aid of the General commanding the 
Fifth Prussian corps. Tlie keys of the 
magazines, in which jirovisious and for- 
age were stored, were now given up, 
and by this time cannonading was heard 
on tlie farm of Villa Coublau, only a 
very short distance from Versailles. 
This noise came from General Vinoy's 
valiant attempt to defend the heights of 
Meudon. — an attempt which was unsuc- 
cessful. The railway trains, to and 



2«8 



EVllOPK IS STOHM AND OALM. 



from Paris liad been suspi'iKlnl llic 
ilay lu'loii'. Alxiut. noon tlu' Mayor 
appeared liefore the gale at the end <if 
the Avenue de Paris, and read the text 
of tiie eapitiihition of tiie eity and the 
forces ill it. A striking [)assage in this 
(loeiinient was thatstrictly speeifyiMg th;i.t 
all niouLnnents in the liistoi'ie townshonld 
l)e resjieeted. The Freueii prohalily re- 
membered the furions tilt of the Prussians 
lip the C'hainps Klysees, in l.Sll. and 
how tliev broke llie statues at Malmais(jn. 



the enemy entered by the Place d'Armes, 
the Kiie St. Pierre, the AveiiiU' dc Si. 
t'loiid, and the roail fi(nii St. (iermain, 
the inhaliitauts. o\ crcoine by ciiriosily, 
gathered in great crowds to see tlieiii. 
All heads were uncovered as a liltU^ 
band of Zouaves, bareheaded and 
wounded, made prisoners, just at the 
close of the light, were hauled along by 
the dusty fiermans, who were nuiiichiiig 
bread or unconcernedly smoking their 
pifies. 'I'here were a few cries of ■• IVrc 




FIlKNCIi GO.\RD MOBILE IN THE C.\MP OP ST. MAtfR. 



One of the Lieutenants of the National 
Guard, stationed at Versailles, w'as then 
invited to a jiarley with the Prussian Gen- 
eral. He was obliged to jia'^s over the 
field of battle, and, while then', he saw 
the Frussians lifting the wounded into 
ambulances marked, '' Hospital of Ver- 
sailles, Palace," " This for the 'I'rianon," 
etc. The effect of this upon him can bet- 
ter he imagined than described. lie next 
saw the immense Prussian cohiinn filing 
away from the positions it had suc- 
ceeded in holding in the wood, and 
rapidly enter Versailles. There were 
abont twenty-five thousand men in this 
column, although the French put the 
uuinber as liigh as forly thousand. As 



la Ili'puhlhpie. ! " to which no olijections 
were made ; and in an hour or two, the 
s|)iked helmet.« of the Bavarians and 
their crests were seen throughout ihe 
woods and the gardens of Versailles. 
Tlie city placed at the disposition of its 
captors twenty-six oxen, ten hogsheads 
of wine, and three hundred thousand 
francs' worth of grain and forage. Large 
numbers of the German troops passed 
directly out of the city to go forward to 
[jositions near St. Germain and St. 
Cloud ; and others inaugurated an ex- 
tempore feast, and, having gorged theiii- 
selves, took the usual precautions for 
their own safety and that of their capt- 
ured troods. 



EUROPE LV STORM AXD CALM. 



2(i9 



CriAT'TER TWENTY-EIGHT. 

Enemies Faro to Face. — Jules Favro anil l!isinai-cl< at Ferrifres. — Personal Characteristics of the German 
Cliancellor. — His Notions about France. — A Portrait of him by Favre. — His Opinion of Napoleon 
HI. — "lie Deceived Evervljody." — Tlie Crushiujf Terms Dfemanded of France. — The Force 
of Caricatures. — JI. Favrc considers his Mission at an End. 



DURIXG those terrible days of the 
isth and IDth of September, days 
which brought such anxiety, and were 
full of so mtieh bitter suspense for Paris, 
an interview destined to prolong the 
resistance of the great oaintal, and to 
give it the character of implaealile fierce- 
ness which it gradually assumed, had 
taken place. Jules Favre had been 
selected for the difficult and delicate task 
of advancing to meet the victorious 
enemy, and soliciting from it such con- 
cessions as might render the lot of the 
conquered more tolerable. 

We heard M. Favre much criticised in 
those days, and especially by those who 
were anxious to found upon the ruins of 
the government of which he was a mem- 
ber a tremendous insurrection, and a 
social revolution. At the close of the 
war, too, when hearts were still very 
sore, Jules Favre was condemned by 
many because he had not been able to 
meet the triumphant Bismarck with tliat 
unruffled demeanor assumed by M. 
Pouyer-Quertier when that eminent finan- 
cier and economist came into contact 
with the Prussian Ch;incellor. Pouyer- 
Quertier, it was said, rtither staggered 
the coolness of Bismarck : met him on his 
own ground, assumed the swagger that 
the great man affected when he was in 
France, and drank with him his atrocious 
mixtures of lemonade and wliite wine, 
keeping his head when otiier Frenchmen 
would have succumbed. 



Jules Favre approached the Prussians 
with the feeling that neither he nor his 
colleagues were in any respect lilame- 
worthy for the declaration of the war, 
and that the terrible condition in which 
the French nation now found itself 
was due solely to the incapacity of a 
regime which he and his followers had 
always condemned. He therefore neither 
felt the shame nor the revolt of pride 
by which an Imperial envoy would have 
been agitated under the circumstances ; 
but he was a true patriot, and, as such, 
his heart was torn with grief which he 
could not conceal. The war, if the vic- 
torious Prussians now chose so to con- 
sider it, was at an end. The govern- 
ment which had declared hostilities was 
overtln-own ; the enemy had success- 
fully vanquished the most aggressive 
of the French forces, and virtually held 
a great part of the country at its mercy. 
To precipitate the horrors of the siege 
npon a population of two millions of 
persons, upon lumdreds of tliousauds of 
helpless women and children, upon the 
vast numbers of peopile who lived from 
hand to mouth, and who could not be 
expected to have provision for the long 
mouths of inaction during investment, 
was a responsibility which neither M. 
Favre nor his friends felt that they could 
incur without an effort to disengage 
themselves. 

So on Sunday, the 18th, Jules Favre 
set out in pursuit of Bismarck. He had 



270 



EVROrE rX STOllM A.Vri CALM. 



inueli (lilliculty in discovering tliat illiis- 
trious diploiniit. AVhcn once outside 
I'aris, he was liiniselt" finite lost. Lonl 
Lyons' eouiier had stated in Paris tliat 
tlie German head-qnarters was at Lagny, 
and wonld he moved next day. Lord 
Lyons liiniselt' told M. Favre that Bis- 
marck was at Grosbois. M. Favre, there- 
fore, made a pretext of a visit to the fort 
near the Charenton gate, and so had got 
out of town without exciting the sus- 
picions of the jealous National Guards, 
who were already beginning to assume a 
menacing attitude with regard to the 
uewly constituted government. Pres- 
ently M. Favre, accompanied by two or 
three other officials and a French statf 
otHcer, came to the last village occupied 
by the French troops. All the houses 
round about had been abandoned l)y 
their inhabitants. 

A priest came from a chnrcli near l)y 
to warn M. Favre that he wonld lie made 
prisoner if he went on ; but the little 
troop set forth across the deserted coun- 
try, and, after an hour's march, they came 
to some German soldiers posted on either 
side of a long, tree-bordered alley. Ilei'c 
the French olHcer had his eyes liandaged 
by the enemy, and as soon as the soldiers 
learned who M. F.-ivre was and what he 
wanted, an escort took him and his 
eomiiauions to Villeneuve St. (ieorges, 
where. M. Favre tells us, he was ushered 
into a deserted house, and a guard was 
placed at his door, with orders under no 
circumstances to let him go out. Tliat 
evening M. Favre was the unuilling 
guest of a German General, who did his 
best to be civil to the Republican envoy, 
and, meantime, M. Favre indited a polite 
note to Count Von Bismarck, who was 
then at IMeaux. An ollicer set off post- 
haste for IMeaux with the message, and 
the officer came back at six o'clock on 
the morning of the littli. In his answer, 



Count Von liismaick stated his willing- 
ness to receive M. Favre, and promised 
him safe conduct through the lines. But 
it was not until late in the afternoon that 
the two diiilomats met. The head-quar- 
ters had lieen liastilv moved from Meaux 
to the magniheent chiiteau of the Roths- 
childs, at Ferrieres : and Count Ilatz- 
feldt, Bismarck's [irivate secretary, was 
sent to hunt up 'SI. Favre, and It'll him 
of the change. 

"So we turned liack niton our steps," 
says M. Jules Favre in his '■ simplt' re- 
cital " of the events of the war. '• When 
we reached the little village of Montry, 
we were forced to stop there : our team 
could go no farther. We found two 
peasants wandering about tlie ruins of 
a farm, which, they told us, bad been 
pillwji'd tlirev times, so that they had 
nothing left. Elverythiug, even to the 
sills of the windows, had been destroyed. 
We sat down on a heap of rubbish. 
After waiting half an hour we saw three 
cavaliers, followed by an enormous ve- 
hicle, approaching. One of them, very 
tall, had a white cap with a large rosette 
in yellow silk. This was Count Von 
Bismarck. He dismounted at the gate 
of the I'ann, at which I stood to meet 
him. 

'• • I regret,' I said to him, ' that I can- 
not receive Your I'^xcellency in a place 
more worthy of him. Perhaps, how- 
ever, inins are not entirely without some 
relation to the conversation that I have 
iiad the honor to ask for. They show 
with eloquence the extent of the mis- 
fortunes to which I would like to put an 
end. We will, if Your Excellency will 
allow, try to install ourselves here to 
begin our conversation.' 

" ' No,' said Count Bismarck ; ' there 
is probably a house in a better condition 
S(unewliere in the neighborhood, and one 
that would be fitter for our conference.' 



EUROPE I\ STORM AXD CALM. 



271 



" ' Yes,' said oiie of the peasiints, 
' about teu minutes from here is the 
Chilteau de la Haute Jlaisou. I will 
show YOU tlie way there.' As thej' 
wallied towards the chateau. Count Yon 
Bismarck said, 'This spot seems as if it 
were made for tlie exploits of \<iur 
Fraucs-Tireurs. The iieigliborhood is 
infested with them, and we hunt tiieni 
down pitilessl}'. Tliej- are not soldiers, 
and we treat tliem lilie assassins " 

"'But,' said M. Favre, willi anima- 
tion, ' tlic}' are Frenchmen, who are 
defending their country, their homes, 
and tlieir heartli-stones. They rebel 
against your invasion ; they certainl}' 
have a riglit to do so, and you override 
the laws of war in refusing their ai)pliea- 
tion to these Francs-Tireurs.' 

" ' We can only recognize,' said Bis- 
marck, ' soldiers who are under regular 
discipline : all the others are outlaws.' " 

M. Favre reminded him of the edicts 
puljlished in Prussia in 181."5, and tlie 
"Holy Crusade" preached against tlie 
French. " That is true," said Bismarck ; 
" and our trees have kept the marks of 
the ropes with which your generals hung 
our citizens uiion tliem." 

When tliey reached tlie chateau they 
sat down in one of the I'ooms ; but Bis- 
marck was ill at ease. He said. " We 
are very poorly placed here. Your 
Fraucs-Tireurs might get good aim at me 
through these windows, and," writes M. 
Favre, as I expressed my astonishment 
and my incredulity, '• I must beg you," 
continued he, " to tell the people of this 
house that you are a raemljer of the 
government, and that you order them to 
keep a strict watch, and that they must 
answer with their heads for any criminal 
attempt." 

After these little precautious, natural 
enough on the part of the Prussian 
Chancellor in an eneniv's conntry, the 



two geutlemcn jiroceeded to business. 
M. Favre briefly stated that his situation 
and that of his colleagues were perfectly 
clear. The}' had not overthrown the 
Flmperor's government. He had fallen 
by his own folly ; and though they came 
to power as his successors, they only did 
it in obedience to supreme necessity. 
" It is to the nation," said M. Favre, 
" that it belongs to decide upon the 
form of government that it wishes to 
live under, and on the conditions of 
peace. It is for that reason that we 
have called upon it for an expression of 
oiiinion ; and I have come to ask you if 
you are willing that the nation should be 
interrogated, or if you are making war 
mion it with the intention of destroying 
it, or to impose a government u[)on it. 
In this case I must observe to Your 
Excellency that we have decided to de- 
fend ourselves to the death. Paris and 
her forts can resist for three mouths. 
Your country naturally suffers by the 
|)resence of her armies on our territory ; 
a war of extermination would be fatal 
to both countries ; aud I think that by a 
little good-will we can prevent further 
disaster by an honorable peace." 

Count Von Bismarck said that he 
asked for nothing liut peace. Germany, 
for that matter, had not trouliled peace. 
" You," he said, " declared war upon us 
withont any motive, entirely for the pur- 
pose of taking a portion of our territory. 
In doing that, you had been faithful to 
jour past. Since Louis XIV. 's time, 
you had never ceased to aggrandize 
yourselves at our expense. We know 
that yon will never give up this policy. 
Whenever j'ou get your strength back 
you will make war upon us again. Ger- 
many has not sought this occasion, but 
has seized upon it for her security, and 
that security can be guaranteed only by 
a cession of territory. Strasbourg is a 



272 ECROVE jy STORM AM) CALM. 

lipriK'tnal tliirat ay;ainst us. It is the the Press, and the warlike enthusiasm 

key of our liouse, and we want il." iu the Corps Lcgi.sldlif vviien the deehi- 

M. Favre said : ration of war was made 

"Then, it is Alsaee ami Lorraine, M. Favre, having ventured lather 

Count Von liisniarek? " timidly to in(iuire vvliether llie I'russians 

"I have said notliiiiL;' aliont Lorraine; were aiming at a Bonai)artist restoration, 

but, as to Alsatia, 1 \\ ill sjieak [ilainly : Itismarek spoke out impetuously :•• What 

we regard it as absolutely indispensable eoueern of ours is ycjiu' form of goveru- 

to oiu' defence." luent? If we thought Napoleon most 

M. Favre lemarked that this sacrilu-e favorable to our interests we would biing 

would inspire in France sentiments of him liack ; l)ut we leave you the choice 

vengeauce and hatred, whicli would of ^our internal administration. ^Vhat 

fatally bring aliout another war ; Al- we want is our own safety, and we can 

satia wIsIumI to remain French ; that she never have it without we have the key 

might be couipiei'ed but coid<l not be as- of tlie liouse. That condition is abso- 

simihited ; and that the province would lute ; and I regret that notiiing in it can 

be a source of embarrassment and, per- be changed." 

haps, of weakness to (iermauy. From tliis |)oiut the conversation took 

Eismarck said he did not deny a. sharper turn. M. Favre continued to 

this; but he repeated that, whatever dwell u|ion the necessity of l)ringing the 

mii;ht hapiien, and even if France were war to a close, and preventing the enor- 

geuerously treated liy the concpieror, she mous losses which both nations nuist suf- 

would still dream of war against Ger- fer if hostilities were prolonged. Bis- 

manv. Slie would not accept the caiiit- marck insisted that all this had been 

Illation of Sedan anv more than that of foreseen by the Germans, and that they 
Waterloo and of Sadowa. "All our preferred to suffer it rather than to have 

countrv is in mourning ; our industry is their children take up the task. " For 
suffering greatl}' ; we have made euor- tliat matter," he said, •' oiu' p(.isition is 
mous sacrilices. aud we do not mean to not so dillicidt as you seem to think it 
begin again to-morrow." lie concluded. is; we can content oiirseh cs with tak- 
j\L Favre endeavored to modify the ingaforl. — and no one of them can liold 
harshness of Bismarck's opinions, asking out for more than iLHir days, — and from 
him to licar in mind the great change in that fort \\v can dictate our ti'i'ms to 
national iiiaimers since the beginning of Paris." 

the cmtiiiy, and that wars were, b)- M. Favre cried out against tlie liorrors 

modern st-it'iice and by the obligation of of the bombardment of a iiuge capital 
internati«.inal interests, rendered more tilled witli innoeeiit and defenceless 
and more imi)ossible ; that France iiad peo|)le as well as w itli soldiers. " I do 
received a cruil lesson, bv wliieh she not say," said JJismarck, •• that we shall 
would profit all the more because slie had make an assault on I'aris. It will prob- 
lieeii forced into tliis ad\entiire against ably suit us bt'tter to starve it out, while 
her will. we move about in your provinces, where 

Count Von Bismarck olijected to this, no army ccrlainly can stop us. .Stras- 
affirming that France wanted the war boiirg will fall on Friday. Ton], perhaps 
against Germany. He passed in review a little sooner; JIarslial Bazaiiie has 
the old vindictive feeling, the attitude of eaten his mules; he lias now begun on 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



273 



his horses, and pretty soon he will have 
to capitulate. After investiug Paris, 
we can cut off all its supplies vvitli a 
cavalry eighty thousand strong ; and we 
have made up uur minds to stay here as 
long as is necessary." 

M. Favre continued to plead fur the 
convocation of a French assembly with 
which tlie Germans could treat, and 
begged him, in the event of such a con- 
vocation to offer acceptable conditions 
and to make a solid peace. 

Bismarck answered that nn armistice 
would be necessary to do all tliat, and 
he did not want one at any price. 

By this time it was quite dark, and 
the two gentlemen separated. Bis- 
marck, as he was taking leave of Jules 
Favre, said, '■ I am willing to recognize 
that yon have always sustained the 
policy that you defend to-day. If I 
were sure that this policy were that of 
France, I would engage the King to 
retire without touching your territory 
or asking you for a penny ; and I 
am so famiUar with his generous senti- 
ments that I could guarantee his ac- 
ceptance of such terms in advance. 
But you represent an imperceptible 
minority. Yon spring out of a popular 
movement, which may upset yon to- 
morrow. We have no guarantee, there- 
fore. We should not liave any from 
the government which miglit take your 
place. The evil lies in the mercurial 
and unretlecting character df your coini- 
try. The remedy is in the material 
guarantee tliat we have a right to take. 
You had no scruples about taking the 
banks of the Khine from us, although 
the Rhine is not your natural frontier. 
We take back from yon what was ours, 
and we think that we shall thus assure 
peace." 

M. Favre, in giving an account of his 
mission to his colleagues, could not re- 



fiain from indulging in a few personal 
imi)ressions of Count Von Bismarck. 
'■Although he was then," says the Re- 
publican Minister of Foreign Affairs, 
" in his fifty-eiglith year, Bismarck ap- 
peared to be in the full force of his 
talent. His lofty stature, his powerful 
head, his strongly marked features, gave 
him at once an imposing and a harsh 
aspect, which was nevertheless tem- 
pered by natural simplicity, amounting 
almost to good-nature. His greeting 
was courteous and grave, absolutely 
free from any affectation or stiffness. 
So soon as conversation was begun he 
assumed a benevolent and interrogative 
air, that he kept up the whole time. 
He certainly looked upon me as a 
negotiator unworthy of him ; but he had 
the politeness not to manifest this senti- 
ment, and appeared interested by my 
sincerity. As for myself I was imme- 
diately struck by the clearness of his 
ideas, the rigidity of his good sense, 
and the originality of his mind. The 
absence of all pretence in him was not 
the least remarkable. I judged him to 
be a politician, far superior to all that 
had Iteen thought of him, taking into 
account only what ?r((.s, preoccupied 
with positive and practical solutions, 
inditferent to all which did not lead up 
to a useful end. Since that time 
I have seen much of him, we have 
treated many questions of detail to- 
gether, and I have always found him 
the same. . . . He is fully con- 
vinced of his own personal value. He 
wishes to give himself entirely to the 
work in which he has had such prodig- 
ious success, and if, in order to carry it 
on, ho must go further than he would 
like, or not so far as he could wish, he 
would resign himself to the situation. 
Nervous and inipressional)le, he is al- 
ways master of his subject. I have 



274 



EUKOPI-: IN STORM AND CALM. 



ol'teu hoard ri'ports o( his cxc-ussivc 
sharpness ; but ho never dereivoil me. 
He has often wounded me. 1 liave 
revolted a<;:iinst his exactions and his 
harshness : liut, in great as in litth.' 
tilings, 1 liave always recognized him 
as straightforward and [tnnctiial." 

Thi^ inter\'iew was resumed at Fer- 
rit'res. in the evening. ■■! was re- 
ceived," said M. Favre, "in a great 
parlor on the ground lloor, called the 
iSalle de C'hasse. The I'russian lield- 
post was already estahlislied there. 
The registries, stamps, the letter-hoxes 
were all arranged with the same [pre- 
cision as in Berlin. Everything went 
on without nc^ise, without confusion ; 
each one liaxl iiis place. Bismarcic was 
still at table. He came down to ask 
me to partake of his repast, which I 
declined. Shortly afterwards we be- 
gan to converse together." 

Among Bisniarclv's remarks tluit even- 
ing many were very noteworthy. He 
seemed to attach gieat importance to the 
violence of tlie French press, the olten- 
sive caricatures and railleries of Ger- 
many, and to draw from them tlie 
conclusion that tlie nation was persist- 
ently hostile, and could not be corrected 
in its seutiments. After a time, M. 
Favre, sijeaking with extreme frankness, 
acciisud the Chancellor of lieing the 
instrument of the Im|)erial paity, whicii 
he had the design of imposing anew 
ii[ion tlie French nation. 

'• You are entirely mistaken," said 
Bismarck. " I have no serious reason for 
liking Napoleon III. I ilo not say that 
it would not liave lieen handy for nie to 
have kept him in his place, and you have 
done a bad turn to your countrj' by u[iset- 
ting him. It would certainh' have been 
possible for us to treat with him; but, 
personally, I have never been al)le to say 
much good of him. If lu' had wished it 



we might have lieen two sincere allies; 
and we could have handled Furoiie at 
our will. He tried to deceive everybody : 
s<.) 1 trusted in him no longer ; but I did 
not wish to fight him. I proved it in 
ISlw, at the time of the Luxembourg 
affair. All the King's party clamored for 
war. I alone repelled the iioti(ju. I 
even offered my resignation : gravelv 
injured my credit. I only mention these 
things to prove to you that the war was 
not my making. I woulil certainly never 
have undertaken it, if it had not been 
declared against us." 

Then he gave JM. Favre a [licturesque 
account of the negotiations, in whicliM. 
Benedetli played so disastrous a part, 
called the Duke of Gramont "a mediocre 
diplomat," said that Emile OUivier was 
an "orator and not a statesman ; " finally, 
he added that if the Germans had any 
interest in maintaining the Napoleonic 
dynasty they would put it back at once ; 
the same for the Orleans family ; the 
same for ]\I. De Chambord. who would 
be n:uch more to their taste. " As for 
myself," said the Chancellor, •' I am en- 
tirely out of the ipiestioii. I am even a 
Ive|iublican, anil I hold that there is no 
good government if it does not come 
directly from the [ieo[)le, only each peo- 
l)le must shape itself to its necessity, 
and to the national manners." 

The iiuestion of an armistice was again 
raised that evening; liut no further prog- 
ress was made than this, that Bis- 
marck would consult the King, and that 
he personally wanted a guarantee for -he 
neutrality of I'aris during an armistice 
in which an assembly should be invoked. 

The next day, at eleven o'clock, M. 
Favre anxiously waited the result of 
Bismarck's interview with the King. 

'• At half-past eleven," says M. 
Favre, " he sent me word that he was at 
libertv. 1 found him seated at a desk. 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



■SO 



in a large and magnificent parlor on tlie 
first floor of the cJidteav. He came for- 
ward to meet me, and, leading me np to 
his desk, showed me the Jniirnal pour 
Rire and another paper, which had not 
been placed there withont a motive. 

'■ ' Here,' he said, ■ look at the proof 
of your pacific and moderate inten- 
tions ! ' " and he showed M. Favre 
numerous caricatures representing 
Prussia in the most hateful shapes. 
After he had dwelt on this long 
enough to rouse M. Favre's temper, 
the latter said that he wished to 
come to the point at once. " You 
have spoken with the King ; I 
would like to know the result of 
your conversation." 

" The King," said Bismarck, 
"accepts an armistice under tlie 
conditions and with the oliject that 
we have agreed upon. As I iiave 
already told you we ask for the 
occupation of all the fortresses 
besieged in the Vosges, that of 
Strasbourg, and the garrison of 
that place as prisoners of war." 
This led to an animated discussion, 
which, at two or three points, was 
in danger of being interrupted by 
violence of feeling. On each of 
these oceasioiis Bismarck would 
say, " Let us try a new eonibina- 
tiou ; let us look for a combination." 

M. Favre told him that tlie people of 
France would never consent to tlie sur- 
render of the troops in the garrison of 
Strasbourg, in view of the heroic defense 
which they were then making. -'It 
would be cowardly," he said. 

Bismarck declared his willingness to 
talk over the matter again with the King, 
and went to do so. While the Chancellor 
was gone, M. Favre sat at a table and 
wrote out the substance of the conditions 
of an armistice as he had understood 



Bismarck to lay thein down. In a short 
time the Count returned, also with a 
written statement, and they coui[)ari'd 
notes. 

M. Favre h:id set down as a guarantee 
given liy Paris of her continued neutral- 
ity during the armistice these words: 
"A fort in the neighli<.irhood of Paris." 




BISMARCK (Military). 1S7o. 

"That is not it at all." said Bismarck, 
(piickly. "I did notsay it fort ; I might 
ask you for a number of forts. I want 
particularly one that controls the town, 
— Mont Valerien, for instance." 

M. Favre made no answer. Bisniareli 
continued: "The King accepts the com- 
bination of a meeting of the Assembly 
at Tours, for instance ; but he insists 
tiiat the garrison of Strasbourg shall be 
given upas prisoners of war." 

At this point, by his own confession. 



27(1 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



M. Favre'.s courage broke down. lie 
rose, iiiul turned away his head, th;it tlic 
enemy miglit not see his tears. ■• But," he 
says, " it was the affair of a secon<l ; 
and. recovering my cahii, I said, ' For- 
give me, Count, this moment of weak- 
ness. I am ashamecl tu have let yon 
witness it ; hut my snlferings are snch 
that 1 am cxcusaliU' for liaving yiehled. 
I must now lieo' pi'rmission to retire. I 
liave ninde a mistake in cdming lierc, l)nt 




lUSMAKCK (Civilian). 1s.s4. 

I am ni.it sorry. T olieyed a sentiment 
of duty, and nothing less tlian imperious 
necessity could have made nie suffer the 
tortures imposed iipdu me. I shall 
faithfully report to the government all 
the details of onr conversation. Person- 
ally I thank you for the kindness with 
which yon have received it, and I shall 
remember it. If my goverinnent esteems 
that there is anything to do in the inter- 
est of peace, with the conditions you 
have laid down. I shall overcome inv re- 



pulsion, and be here to-morrow; in the 
contrary case, 1 shall have the honor to 
write y<iu. I am very nnhappv, but full 
of lii)[)e.' " 

llisniarclv himself appeared some- 
what agitated. He extended his hand 
t(i Favi-e, addressed him a few polite 
wiinl.s, and M. Favre turned his back 
u|M)n the enemy. 

lie reached Paris just in time to hear 
the excited connnents of his colleagues 
upon the shameful retreat of the 
French trooi)s from Chatillon. 

But the decision that Bismarck's 
terms were too harsh, and could 
not be accepted, was unanimous ; 
and next day the Prussian Chan- 
cellor received a note, stating this 
fact. 

On the evening of the 20th of 
September, the famous proclama- 
tion, in which the goverinnent of 
National Defense declared that it 
would yield to the enemy '• neither 
an inch of French territory nor 
a stone of French fortresses," was 
posted on the walls of Paris ; and 
on the 21st of Septemljer (iam- 
betta, as Minister of the Interior, 
issued an address in which lie 
reminded the people " That sev- 
enty-eight years Ijefore, on that 
day, their fathers had founded the 
Keptiblic, and had taken a solemn oath, 
in the i)reseiice of the invader, to live 
free or to die in combat. They kept 
their oath; they con()nered, and the 
Uepublie of 1790 has remained in the 
memory of men a symbol of heroism and 
national grandeur. The g(n-erninent 
installed at the Hotel de Ville, amid the 
enthusiastic cries of Viri- la Ili'-jiiibliqHe, 
could not let this glorious anniversary 
pass without saluting it as a great ex- 
amiile." 



EUROPE LV STORM AND CALM. 



277 



So wrote Gambetta, who was so soon 
afterwards to undertake bis mission of 
organizing the national defence in that 
part of the country as yet free from 
the invader. 

For four months thereafter the city of 



Paris suffered siege Witliin the wall* 
and without a constant succession ol 
tragic and romantic events occurred. 
Tx't us now pass the most important of 
tliem in review. 



278 



KmnpE IN STOR.V AXf> nAI.M. 



CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE. 

Tlie Army of St.rashnurj'. — Goiicial TThiicli ami the Fortress which he had to defenil. — The Forts. — Tlie 
C:itlicih-ah — Firu aud Boiubardmcnt. — The Tyranny of the Mob. — Immense Destrnctiou. — Loss of 
one of the mo^t Vahialile Libraries in the World. — German Siege Tactics. — The spectacle after the 
Surrender. 



WE litivc tilfcndy seen that Jules 
Favie, in lii.'i i-ipDi-t iniide to his 
colleagues of the govciiiiiient of National 
1 )efenee, after his visit to Count Bisiiitirck 
.•it Ferrieres, six)ke of tlie Clianeellof as 
very stern in all his renitirks tiliout Stras- 
lioiirg. " It is the key of the house," said 
Bismarck, " and I must have it." Jules 
Favre was not slow to |)erceive that Bis- 
marck meant by this that Strasbourg was 
to be comjirised in the new Germany 
which he wa,s carving out, with so nnieh 
labor and at such an expense of lilood 
and treasure. Time and time again, tis the 
pitiless ( lermtin hiid down his conditions 
for the armistice which the Frentdi felt 
was necessary to their cause, the occu- 
pation of Strasbourg, of Toul, and of 
Phalsbourg was insisted upon in the 
sharpest terms. Once M. Favre lost 
patience, and said, "It is much more 
simple to ask us for Paris ; " but Bis- 
marck, speaking of Strasl)ourg, said, "the 
town is sure to fall into oiu' hands. 
It is no longer anything but a matter of 
calculations." 

I went down from Frankfort to Stras- 
bourg in September, when the German 
boml)arilnicnt lind been in pnigrcss fur 
Slime twt'iitv chivs. atid w:is im little 
sur|irisci| to find tlitit I wtis (inly one of 
thousands of pilgrims. The inhabitnuts 
of Baden, Wurteinbiiig. ;ind tin- sections 
in the neighliorhocid uf the Ivliiiic. lookeil 
on with grim delight ;it the stettdily prose- 
cuted operations for the reccnery of the 



city, which they regarded as belonging 
to Germany. Day tifter day tlie little 
(Terman papers pulilishcd extravagant 
announcements of the coming assault 
u[ioii Strasb<iiirg, — an assault which 
never came. At Appenwcier, where 
the railway branches olf to Kclil tiiid 
Strasliourg, I found the transiiortation 
of troops to and from tln' fmiit in rapid 
progress, and the delays f(ir civilians 
were interminalile. 

To travel through the lovidv land in 
the peaceful September did not remind 
one much uf war-time. The ilaik high- 
lands of the Schvvartzwald loomed up 
l^eacefully to the left; and on the right, 
in the liriiail, IViiitfiil valh'y of the 
Rhine, few soldiers wiae to be seen. 
At Rastadt there wtis a solitary senti- 
nel : Imt oil the broad iilaiii Iiefore 
the town an immense miniber uf earth- 
works showed wlitit trenieiidous prepa- 
raticin had been made for the French, 
whose lirst entry into Gierinany was 
expected to be upon this vale, so often 
devtistated in [itist times by French 
armies. 

The peojile of Btideu were so delighted 
at being relit'veil from tin' threatened 
invasion (for during the days folluwing 
the battles of Weisseuburg, S:iarbriickcii, 
and Woerth they were in mortal terror) 
th.'it they emptied cellar and kitchen in 
order to bring the passing troops refresh- 
ments and to cheer them on tulhe light. 
Whtit the French might litive done in 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



279 



Baden if the_y had been better preiiared, 
it was easy to see ; but they contented 
themselves with cutting the bridge over 
the Rhine and waiting the onslaught of 
their enemies. 

A little rough riding in a peasant's 
wagon was necessary in order to get to 
Anerheim, whence the l)est view of 
" Strasbourg in flames," as the Badcucrs 
called it, was to lie had. The journey 
occupied about two hours, across a well- 
cultivated country ; and, although it was 
cjuite late, the villagers came out from 
all the sleepy little dorfs to stare at the 
strangers who had come to see the bom- 
bardment. The scene was, indeed, worth 
a rough clay's ride on the railway and 
the fatigue. At nightfall the whole sky 
above Strasbourg was illuminated by 
fires raging in one of the poorer 
quarters. It was a fearful sight to see, 
though the peasant driver said that a 
few evenings previous no less than half- 
a-dozen quarters had been blazing. The 
flames had been seen for over twenty 
miles. He also said that in Aueriieim 
the screams and the lamentations of tlie 
inhabitants of Strasbourg were often 
heard. This sounded somewhat apocry- 
phal, but lie insisted upon the truth of 
it, gesticulating Avith his long porce- 
lain pipe as he pointed to the great 
tovver of the cathedral, which loomed up 
vast and dim against the lurid back- 
ground. Now and then a blaze of more 
than ordinary intensity was seen, denot- 
ing the fall of some building, and this 
would be followed by a momentary 
gloom. The regular booming of the 
cannon was faintly heard. 

Aliout ten at night we drove forward 
to the entrance of the little village of 
Anerheim, where there was a picket sta- 
tioned. This picket halted the driver, 
but was easily pacified by cigars and 
small coins. The only hotel in the 



village was occupied by officers, and 
the police had kindly issued orders 
that no strangers should be allowed to 
remain there over night ; so, had it not 
been for the kindness of a neighlior, we 
should not have been able to secure our 
sixth of the one sleeping-room, with 
quarters on some doubtful straw. All 
night the village streets resounded with 
the hum of the voices of the peasants 
and strangers, who were coming and 
going on their excursions to the best 
points for seeing the conflagration. The 
following morning broke bright and 
fresh as spring, and I engaged my host 
to lead me as near as possible to the 
German batteries at Kehl. The little 
river Kinsig flows hard by, and from its 
high banks a good view of a portion of 
.Strasbourg and of Kehl is obtaiued. 
The highest spire of the cathedral, four 
miles distant, was superbly illuminated 
by the glow of the morning sun. I had 
been told in Frankfort that it had been 
destroyed ; and, indeed, the German 
officers confessed to me that it had been 
fired upon from Kehl, Init only because 
the commandant of the city had persisted 
in making the platform at the foot of 
the single tower the place for an observa- 
tory. So accurately had the shot been 
sent that it had passed over the platform 
without damaging the tower. " This 
w;'-s," said my informant, " the only 
timi' the sacred ediiiee had been fired 
upon ; and tliis was a case of necessity, 
since by this means the French com- 
mandant migjit liave held communication 
with the mountains in the rear of the 
city, and overseen the entire movements 
made by the forces in Baden and Al- 
satia. The platform is two hundred 
and twenty-eight feet above the ground, 
commanding every part of tlie city and 
fortifications, and the mountain passes 
of the Black Forest and the Vosges." 



280 



EUROPE L\ STORM AXD CALM. 



The famous tower (if tlio Sliaslioiiig 
Cathedral reaches a height of four hun- 
dred and eiglity-six feet above the pa%'e- 
ment, and its, next to the Pyramid of 
Cheops, the highest edifice iu the world. 

The German guns were busy, although 
it was scarcely dawn, and wei-e pounding 
away at the citadel, which lay nearer to 
them than the cliurch ; liut the peasants 
were at work in thi'ir fields, or engaged 
with the hemp in the standing waters, 
and sentinels, with a l>usiiiess-like air, 
warne(l the \isitors not to enter within 
the line of fire. Kehl was but a few 
hundred yards to our left, and the tiring 
from the batteries there could be easily 
followed, the sound of the e.\i)losion of 
shells falling in the streets being dis- 
tinctly heard, although we could not 
observe their effect, because of the long 
rows of })oplar trees. Across the Rhine 
the Prussian batteric^s iu Schiltigheim, 
Rnprechtsau, and Bischheim kept up a 
monotonous refrain. The oflicer with 
whom I was iu conversation said that 
nearly five hundred cannon and mortars 
were in positi(.ni, although at that mo- 
ment the tiring was very slack. Fifty 
thousand Baden and Prussian troops 
were constantly under arms, wailing for 
a breach to be made in the walls. They 
seemed to have little couiideiice in Gen- 
eral T'hrich's di'liaut statement that he 
would hold the town so long as a soldier 
and a biscuit were left. 

Strasbourg had at the time of tin? 
boml)ardmeut a population of over eiglity 
thousand souls, half ol' whom were Prot- 
estants, and was justly considered tlie 
most imiJortaut fortress in Alsatia, secur- 
ing the latter's possession ; and, in tlie 
hands of the French, being the base of 
operations for tlie campaign in Baden 
and the Palatinate. It was the fartiier- 
most outpost in France towards the East, 
the protectoress of Alsatia, and the 



watcher on the lianks of the Rhine. 
Vauban secured the possession of Alsatia 
to France by laying out a number of 
fortified places, forts, and citadels : in 
the south, against Switzerland, IIuu- 
ningen, which was rased in 1815 ; in the 
north, Weissenburg, and the so-called 
Weissen line ; and the centre of the 
whole system of fortifications was Stras- 
bourg. The chief disadvantage of the 
city as a military fort was the fact that 
it was on a plain. The German military 
autliorities say that, had it lieen placed 
about fifty kilometres further back, 
somewhere in the neighl:)orliood of Sa- 
verne, the declivities of the Vosges would 
have been a protectiou, and would have 
naturally given it a dominant position. 
Tlie only means of getting a wide view 
from tlie town is by climbing the minster 
tower. The town's only advantage is 
that it has an entire command of the 
IJhine, though distant about seven and 
one-half miles, and sitnate<l on the 111, 
one of the tril>utaries of that river. The 
Rhine is here divided into three arms, 
and Strasbourg itself is built upon an 
island formed by them. A canal con- 
nects the city with the Rhine, and, by 
obstructing the former, water is sent 
into the ditches of the fortress, thus 
making the city more capalile of defense. 
The fortification system was generally 
thought to be excellent, especially the 
fortified ciirciiite and citadel. Towards 
the Vosges there was a strong line of 
defence, with two projecting bastions 
and two forts at the ends ; in the north. 
Fort Pierre, and iu the south. Fort 
Blanc. This |iart of the fortress was 
only entered by the railway and liy the 
Saveriie gate, the latter being well pro- 
tected. The two side lines of the city, 
which is almost triauguhxr in sha[)e, were 
about ecpially protected. The southern 
one, from Fort Blanc as far as the cita- 



EURorE ry STOR.ir Axn calm. 



281 



del, was provided with nalinal in-otec- 
tioiis. The ramparts were built on a 
level, cut by the 111 and the ditches, the 
entrance into the fortress being throngii 
the Hospital and the Austerlitz Gates. 
Behind the ramparts lay the forage 
magazines, the military prison, and the 
Austerlitz Barracks. The northern side, 
from Fort Pierre to the citadel, com- 
manded the two suliurbs of Robertsau 
and Les Coutades, and a small island. 

The citadel, built by Vauban in 1G8-J- 
85, was separated by an esplanade from 
the city, and could contain defensive 
material for a number of months. But, 
as we have already seen, it was too 
poorly equipped with arms, artillery, etc. 
It was pentagonal in shape, provided 
with five bastions ; had barracks for 
ten thousand men and fifteen hundred 
horses ; and at the beginning of the siege 
is said to have had within its walls aliout 
four thousand National Guards, two thou- 
sand Gardes Mobiles, two thousand artil- 
lery, fifteen hundred men from regiments 
of the line, a great number of mules and 
Arab horses, which had been collected 
with the view of an expedition into Ger- 
many ; and, upon its walls, had some 
three or four hundred rather nnti((uated 
cannon. 

When the array of MacMahon had been 
defeated in the two battles of Weissen- 
burg and Woerth, the commandant of 
Strasbourg was requested by Lieuteuant- 
General Von Werder to caiiitulate. In 
truth a less brave man than General 
Uhrich might have hesitated to under- 
take the defence of a city which had for 
its garrison only the rabble of retreat- 
ing liners, chasseiirs-ci-jiied , artillery-men, 
and Turcos, who bad been routed in the 
terrible night after Woerth, and had tied 
to the nearest fortress. The summons 
to surrender was issued on the Stli day 
of August. The reports of MacMahon's 



defeat were sent to the commandant of 
Strasbourg, in the hope that lie might be 
influenced to yield the town. Hut he 
had received the most encouraging prom- 
ises of immediate aid from Paris, and to 
all the threats of bombardment and 
assault responded by a cool and contin- 
uous negative. General Von Werder 
at once began the bombardment. The 
town was invested upon the 12tli of 
August ; and for nearly forty days there- 
after a rain of shell and shot from the 
iron throats of more than five hundred 
cannon fell upon the terror-stricken in- 
habitants. Commandant Uhrich sent 
word to the German commander that he 
felt called upon, as an act of reprisal for 
the bombardment of the city, of which 
he had not been notified, to direct his 
guns upon the little town of Kehl, which 
contains about two thousand inhabitants, 
most of the houses being small [leasants' 
cottages. The Germans had one battery 
at a short distance to the left of this 
village, which was otherwise totally un- 
fortified. In the little church were a 
numlier of wounded. From the roof the 
flag of the sanitary corps was Hoating. 

The Germans were unanimous in say- 
ing that on this buikling the first shots 
of the French guns were tlirected, and 
that in a short time the church was set 
on fire. Had it not been for the heroism 
of the local farmers the wounded sol- 
diers would have been burned alive. All 
the inhabitants of the village fled, leav- 
ing their houses and proiierty unpro- 
tected. Many houses were l)lown to 
pieces by shells, and the piililic buildings 
were completely wrecked. 

General ^'on Werder then sent a pro- 
test to the commander of Strasbourg, 
saying that his guns, in violati<.)n of the 
law of nations, had been directed against 
the unfortified and (>i)en town of Kehl 
without previous intimation. Such a 



282 EURorn r.v storm axd r.iL.v. 

method of making war, he contiiHicd, w;is Nortbeni (uTinaiiy, and tlio city was 
nnheard of iimongst civilized nations, phiced nnder tire ou all sitles. 
and nin.st indiire liim to make ( General 'J'hcneeforward, from the date of my 
I'lnieli i)eisoually resi)i)nsible for tlu' eon- visit nntil the surrender, the conditiDn 
sequences of the act. Apart from this of the town, the garrison, and the, iuhabi- 
he should cause the damage done to l)e tants was frightful. The soldiers were 
assessed, and shonlil seek compensation no longer subordinate, and the better 
for it by means of contributions levied class of citizens, seeing a threatened 
in Alsatia. This note was issued on the danger, pleaded that their city might be 
19th of August, and greatly emliittered spared ; but the mob ruled everywhere 
the feeling on both sides. The damage outside the fortress. The commandant 
done in Kehl w;is, in fact, asse^'sed, and began to take measures for the expulsion 
a report was sent in t(.) the German gov- of the Germans, who formed a, part of 
ernment. The Germans had not, uj) to the population ; and, on the inoiuing of 
thi.s date, made preparations for a long or the :^lst, one luunhed tn'rmans, who 
serious siege, since hirge l<:)rces were at had been serving in the Algerian Foreign 
their command ; and the army of defense Legion, were ordered to lea\e the city. 
opiKjsing them consisted, as they knew. The gates were opened, and ten were 
of but ten tlionsnnd men. The Stras- sent out at each gate, so say the German 
bourgers liad been wise enough to call in accounts, with the threat that if they 
immense quantities of provisions finm looked back they would nf once be shot 
the neighborhood liefore the iiivestnieut down. These unfortunate men were 
was comiilete ; but they found them- placed in an insecure position. They 
selves cm))ai'iassed by the |ir<'sence of found themselves between two tires: 
thousands of villagers and mountaineers lieing dressed in their French uiuforms 
who flocked in. It was estimated that they were mai'ks for the (iermans, and 
in three days before tlie I'.Uli of August if they altempted to regain the French 
twentv thcnisand villagers came in for lines they were sure of being shot, 
protection, (ieneral Uhrich found him- 3Iiist uf them saved their lives liy run- 
self with a hundred tlwusand people uing str.-iight into tlie (ierman lines, 
under his protection, anil with an o\ei- Two of them weic nativs of I'omerauia, 
whelming force of besiegers, assembled and, odilly enoiieh, fell into the hands 
before his town. of a I'omci'anian regiment. 'I'he children 
On the night of the bstli and I'.lth of in the sli'eets iiointed out the (iermans 
August heavy eamionading was kept up who did not si)eak the dialect; and all 
on lioth sides, and inunense dauuige was tlu>e wimc arrested as suspected of pos- 
done to the city of Strasl)Ourg. The sible collusion with tlie enemy. Among 
gnus threw into the fortress a, perfect the persons thus arrested were many 
hail-storm <jf bomlis and camion-lialls. Pomeranian lirewers, — men who were 
On the evening of the I'.Mli the fortifi- taken oil' their wagons and sent innuedi- 
calion caught lire in many |)laces : l)ut ately to prison. ]Men sent out liy the 
tlie Strasbourg gari'ison worked well. Charitable Society of Lausanne, in Switz- 
the guns being valiantly manned and erland, were arrested as s|)ics, and 
directed liy artiUeiy-nien who had served imprisoned. A youiig (ierman otlicer, 
their time in the French army. On the who was cajitnred liy some French 
•20th a powerful siege ti'aiu arrived from pickets, and escorted into the city, was 



EUROPE IN STORIIf AXD CALM. 



2S?) 



literally torn to pieces hv the excited 
luob. His head was cut olT and .stuck 
u[)OU a pole, and carried in lriuiii|ili. Ih;- 
mob following, shouting, singing, antl 
cursing the besiegers. 

It was a fearful time for the peace- 
ably inclined citizens, who desired any- 
thing rather than the unchecked license 
of their own mob. The stories of the 
cruel treatment of German prisoners 
reached the besiegers' lines, and hun- 
dreds of shells were thrown into the popu- 
lous quarters, where they were expected 
to reach and punish the rioters. 

On the 22d of August the Geruuius re- 
ceived reinforcements from Rastadt, and 
more heavy guns came also from Cologne 
and from Ulm Couunander Uhrich was 
informed that a breach would be shortly 
m.Tde in the walls, and the city stormed ; 
that an assault would be postponed as long 
as possible, since the German victories 
elsewhere must show the uselessuess of 
longer obstinacy, and King William had 
ordered that the commander of the be- 
sieging forces should spare his men as 
much as possil)li', and should do the city 
and its inhaliitauts tlie least amount of 
injury consistent with coercion. It was 
at this time tliat the Germans uoticctl 
the splendid point of oljservation which 
Commander Uhrich had on the cathe- 
dral; so he was informed that, if he did 
not at once clear his instruments away 
from the church, the grand old edifice 
would be bombarded, desi)ite its sacred 
character. On this day General Uhrich 
asked that the women and children 
might be allowed to pass out ; but, as 
the German commander desired to exer- 
cise moral pressure upon the garrison, 
he refused to allow this. lie permitted 
General Uhrich to send a letter to his 
wife. A great number of Germans were 
at this period expelled fiom tiie city. 
The 24tii of August was an anxious day 



for the little group of besieged, for, on 
the morning of the 24th, no less than 
live hundred cannon outside were manned, 
and fifty thousand troops awaited the 
signal for assault. The Germans, with 
singular, although perhaps with uncon- 
scious, insolence, asked General Uhrich 
to come out, or send one of his officers, 
to see the preparations which had been 
made for the bombardment. This he 
refused to do, saying that it W'as never 
possible for him to inspect the German 
forces until those forces had capitulated. 
He added that he was determined to de- 
fend himself to the last man and the last 
cannon-ball. 

During the whole of the -Mth a terrilic 
cannon duel was kei)t up, and at five 
o'clock on the following morning the 
firing ceased, from pure exhaustion on 
both sides. The right side of the cita- 
del of Strasbourg was almost entirely 
destroyed, and lialf-a-dozen fires were 
burning in various quarters. The next 
night the Germans sent ten or fifteen 
shells per minute into the city. All 
night the sky was lighted by tlie 
flames of burning Kehl, Robertsau, 
Schiltgheim, and Konigenhof, which had 
been fired by the French, and at mid- 
night the moon was obscured by the 
smoke above the burning city of Stras- 
bourg. The peasants of the surrounding 
villages assembled in thousands to watch 
the flames and to listen to the caniuni- 
adiug. The fires were seen, nearly forty 
miles away, by the inhabitants of the 
Black Forest. The whole of the Stein- 
strasse, the Blau-Wolkenstrasse, and 
the new church of St. Peter were in 
flames. From time to time it looked at 
if the old church were burning, the 
tower seeming to be glowing red, and 
the flames appearing to run along it as 
if sporting with the sacred building. 
The soldiers of Kehl could read ordinary 



284 



EUROPE AV STORM A.VP CALM. 



print at a distance of fonr miles from 
burning Straslioiirg. Tlie wind blew 
westward, carrying the flames into tlic 
most populous quarters. Fiivmen ami 
citizens worlved desperately to stny 
the progress of the flames ; wiiile the 
mob, eom|)letely beyond cdiitrol, ran 
through the streets, robliing and plunder- 
ing the unprotected, and breaking into 
deserted houses. 

This night of the 24tli of August made 
a profound impression upon the besieged 
inhaltitauts. The leacliug local news- 
)iapei', in its issue of the "-'.iith, contains 
the following : •■ Wiiatrnin and mourning ! 
At eigiit o'clock last night the enemy 
began a teri-iflc fire, destroying fortunes, 
treasures, and grand woiks of art. What 
losses shall we mention liist? The Puli- 
lie Library, the Tcm[ile Neuf, the Mu- 
seum of l-'ainting? Most splendid houses, 
in the finest quarter, are now (ndy hi';ii)s 
of blackened ruins. The Public Lilirnry. 
so famous throughout Kurope, contained 
books and mnunscript, the most unicpie in 
the world, the result of centuries of labor, 
patience, and perseverance. Notliing 
now remains but .m few pan-hments. 
The site is Cdvei'eil witii ruins, ;ind all 
that we can find is tlu' carbdiiized cover 
of one or two books in a corner. Of the 
Church of the New Temple, which was 
the largest Protestant place of worshi|i 
in Strasl.iourg, with its s|)lendid organ 
and renowned uun-al [laintings, the four 
walls alone rem;iin. The Art Museum 
at Aubette is entirely destroyed. The 
Cathedral has hitherto only escapi'd by 
miracle. This iiioriiiug, agMin, some 
fragments of sculptiue and stone from 
the walls were found scattered about the 
ground, showing that a cannon-ball had 
struck our magnificent Monument, — one 
of the glories of the world. The Notre 
Dame Asylum, one of the noblest monu- 
ments of the middle ages, has been in- 



jni'e<l t)y shells. The Hotel de ^'ille is 
shattered ; the Council Hall is devastated ; 
many private residences have become the 
prey of the flames. Shells last night fell 
by dozens and by hundreds in a single 
street; and as soon as a fire was lighted 
up [irojectiles were poured like hail upon 
the spot, no doubt for the purpose of 
preventing the workers from getting the 
flames under. The whole city is heaped 
with wreck, and the roofs, chimneys, and 
fa(,'ades of the houses are damaged on 
all sides." 

Even this pathetic description fails to 
give au idea of the reality during the 
dreadful night. The citizens fled into 
their cellars, many into the very sewers, 
in order to save themselves from the 
shells. Thousands, however, had no 
such place of refuge. They ran aljout 
the streets half crazy. 

During the night thc> heroic little gar- 
rison made a sally, uhich was repelled 
by the Germans with great loss to the 
French. In tiie morning the command- 
ant sent a piir!i'iiii'ii/<ihy [a ;\<.k for lint 
and bandages for the woiuided, since he 
had none ; and he added tiiat fi'om five 
to six hundred citizens had been wounded 
fiy exploding shells, and by the liearas 
from falling houses. Many lay buried 
beneath the ruins, where they must 
remain, as there was no time to rescue 
them. A shell fell into a girls' school, 
killing seven girls, and severely wound- 
ing many others. Still the cininnandant 
would not listen to the word ca[iitulation, 
but demanded to be allowed to leave the 
fill tress with all military honors. The 
citizens Sent the buigomaster to the cita- 
del to plead with General Uhrich, but 
the (ieueral sent him back again with the 
intiuiatiiin that he wiuild shoot any citi- 
zen who attemiited to resist his au- 
thority. 

On the L'Oth of Ananst the inhab- 



EUROPE IN STOHil AXD CALM. 



285 



itauts of the city sent the I'.ishop of 
Strasbourg to plead with tlie German 
commander. The bisliop entered a 
little village where he was met by 
the chief of the Prussian staff. The 
good bishop first expressed his con- 
viction tluit the bumbardnient of the 
city was not justified liy the military 
code, and begged that it should be 
brought to a si)eedy termination. The 
chief of the Prussian staff replied that 
if France had ever entertained the in- 
tention of uniting to the defense of the 
city the greatest possible care for its 
safety and that of its inhabitants, she 
would have built the fortifications so 
that the great points of defense would 
have been concentrated in the outer 
works. The old method of laying out 
the defence placed great diffleulties in 
the way of storming, which could only 
be removed bj' simultaneously firing 
upon the city. He added tliat, in order 
to give the Imperial French prints some- 
thing to say, the little undefended town 
of Saarbriicken had been bombarded. 
The bishop, discovering tiiat there was 
not much hope of au agreement with 
the obstinate German, timidly requested 
that all the civilian inhabitants of the 
city might be permitted to leave it. 
But this was sternly refused. Finally 
the Tiishop requested the cessation of 
hostilities for twenty-four hours. The 
chief of the Prussian staff answered 
that this could be granted only on the 
assurance that General Uhrich would 
enter into negotiations ; whereupon the 
bishop and the chief parted in a frieudh' 
manner. But, according to the (Terman 
accounts, a moment later a platoon fire 
was opened upon the chief of the Prus- 
sian staff, although he held in his hand 
the parliamentary flag, which he brought 
back into the lines literally pierced 
through and through with bullets. On 



his return to the lines the Genian 
liatteries at once opened fire upon the 
fortifications and the city as a retalia- 
tion of what they considered a very 
grave breach of military law. 

And in the midst of such horrors 
the month was slowly wearing away. 
General Uhrich was, indeed, made of 
heroic stuff', for the biavest heart must 
have faltered now and then as it saw 
that all the promises of help from Paris 
were in vain, and that in front was a 
constantly increasing inimical force, — a 
whole nation, to take back what it con- 
sidered its own, and pitile-.s liecause 
of the memories of past defeats and 
humiliations, which had been inflicted 
npon it l)y the enemy now in its power. 

The very elements seemed to be 
against the unhappy citizens of Stras- 
bourg. Thunder-storms roared and 
poured daily over the doomed city ; and 
the wretched people who had been living 
in cellars were driven out of them by the 
rising of the Rhine. Hundreds fled to 
the cathedral, and took refuge within its 
nuiHsive walls. A Strasbourg lady, who 
fled to Basle with her two children after 
the night of the 24th, described the citi- 
zens as without courage and livid with 
fear. Every night was a prolonged 
terror, and few of the inhabitants slept 
during the night hours. The German 
fire was generally strongest from one in 
the morning until five or six. 

On the 29th a tremendous sally was 
made by the Strasbourg garrison, but 
it did nothing save inflict a little dam- 
age on the German troops, who were 
employed in making trenches. Still 
the bells in the city were rung, as if in 
celebration of a victory. But they were 
funeral liells, and General Uhrich must 
have begun to foresee the end. On the 
night after this courageous sortie the 
first parallel was opened by the Germans, 



286 



EUROl'E IN SrOIi.U AM) CA/.M. 



and iiiin'trrii liatlri it's were jilaeed in 
position. AnotluT sally niiule liv the 
French, to take an advance battery, 
proved iinsueeessrul. 

On the ;30th of Anuiist the bishop 
again a|ipeared in the (.eruian lines, and 
said that he was willing to nndertake 
negotiations with General Uhrich. The 
Germans gave the bishop the English 
and Belgian newspajiers to read, which 
contained accounts of the German victo- 
ries around Metz ; and then had him es- 
coi'ted back to the town. That night all 
the German batteries increased their lire. 
But Straslionrg w-as silent, and remained 
so for three days thereafter, as its am- 
munition was almost gone. 

At this time witliiu the walls of Stras- 
bonrg potatoes were sold at 24 francs 
per hundred pounds ; peas, at 14 sous 
per pound, and the only meat to be had 
was horseflesh, sold at y francs per 
poinid. 

The last and crowning misfortiaie of 
General Uhrich w'as the cntting off of 
his direct telegraphic communication 
with Paris. This was accidentally ac- 
complished liy a miner in one of the Ger- 
man trenches, who cut, the snbterranean 
wire with his pickaxe. 

On the tilst of Angust the energetic 
deputy, Keller, was haranguing the C'or/ift 
Li'rjiduttf \n Paris, and declaring that a 
commission should be sent into the de- 
partment of the Upper Rhine to arouse 
the populations to a man. But no helj) 
came to the valiant Uhrich and his starv- 
ing men. '• I will," lie said, shutting his 
teeth hard, and glaring at the messenger 
whom the bishop had sent to him — '• I 
will hold the i)laee to the last stone. If 
I must withdraw into the forts 1 will 
blow up the city if it hinders my de- 
fenses" 

The leading Strasbourg pajjcr, on the 
2d of September, published a tremendous 



despatch, aiHKiuncing a gi'eat Freucll 
victory, in which lioth Steiumetz and 
Prince Friederich had been taken prison- 
ers, and the Crown Prince was severely 
wounded. A second report announced' 
a victory at Toul, in which forty-nine 
thonsan<l (rermans had been killed, 
thirty-live thousand wounded, and seven 
hundred cannon taken. Marshal Mac- 
Mahou was said to be at ('halons. with 
four hundred thousand men, and Alsatia 
was to be saved in two days. The 
French soldiers, said the despatch, are 
making ramparts of the Prussian dead. 

It was on the day following this imag- 
inary I'omfoj't, in which the poor people 
of Strasbourg indulged themselves, that 
the fall of Sedan was amiouneed iu 
Germany ; but the people of Strasbourg 
knew nothing of this event until several 
days afterwards. The fiermau liesiegcrs 
had celebrated the victcjry by fn'ing off 
twenty-one gims. The editor of the 
Strasl)ourg jwjier wrote : " Yesterday 
the enemy's batteries tired many shells 
into the city at regular intervals. Our 
batteries made a vigorous reply. After 
the twenty-first shell was fired the I'rus- 
sian guns were silenced." 

On the 11th of Septemlier a delega- 
tion of Swiss gentlemen arrived in Stras- 
l)Ourg with permission from the Germans 
to take in their train some fourteen 
hundred persons, chiefly aged women 
and young children. These visitors 
brought to the liesieged the startling 
news of (iraxelotte : of Sedan : of Ba- 
zaine blocked up in Metz ; of MacMahou 
defeated, and Bonapaite a prisoner in 
Germany ; and of the Republic pro- 
claimed in Paris. The Imperial Prefect 
was at once impeached and deprived of 
his otlice, and a nnmicii)al commission 
called to the inulric of the city the wise 
and good M. Knss, — a Republican, who 
was much beloved, and who was to be 



EUROPE J.V srORM AXD CALM. 



ii^l 



the hist mayor of French Straslnniri;-, 
and to have a pathetic fate, as we shall 
see later on. 

On the 20th of September arrived in 
Strashonrg the new Prefect of the Lower 
Rhine, a|ipointed by the government of 
National Defense in Paris. It is doubt- 
ful if am- prefect ever liad such diffi- 
culties in arriving at his post, as fell 
to the lot of Ibis brave envoy from 
the capital, or such ingenuity in ovi-r- 
corning them. Disguised as a peasant 
he succeeded in reaching Schiltgheim. 
There he ran the Prussian lines, after 
having worked for several days on the 
entrenchments of the Germans in order 
to lull any suspicions that they might 
have, and, making his way towards the 
city walls, swam across the moat, and 
walking up to the sentinel, who shot 
twice at him, called upon him to desist. 
The stupefied sentinel halted him until 
the officer of the guard came to take 
him into the town to General IThrich. 
When he was alone with the General, 
the new prefect ripped up one of his 
coat-sleeves, and from the rent in his 
garment extracted the olficial decree 
which named him Prefect of Strasbourg. 

The Germans had arranged to storm 
the city on the 30th of September, the 
anniversary of Strasbourg's loss to 
Germany in KiSl. A pontoon bridge for 
crossing the ditch h.ad been prepared, 
and, as the storming party would have 
been splendidly protected by the German 
guns, an actual attack would probably 
not have been long resisted. General 
Uhricli, as commander of tlie fortress, 
well knew that the French military code 
forbade him, under penalty, to give u[) 
the trust confided to him without a 
proper and a long resistance. To sur- 
render without a breach in the walls of 
Strasbourg would have been treason to 
France. But on the evening of the 



L'Tth of September the white flag was 
hoisteil. General Uhiich's prochmiation, 
annouucing the surrender of the town, 
stated his belief that resistance was no 
longer possible. The poor, half-starved 
inhabitants crept out from their damp 
cellars, from the churches, and from the 
board houses along the canals where 
they had taken refuge, and flocked 
around the Cathedral, from the topmost 
spire of which the flag was flying. 

On the "28th the Mayor issued his 
proclamation, announcing that the gar- 
rison would be allowed to go out with 
the honors of war, and that the German 
occupation would at once begin. On 
the day of the <'apitulation the public 
squares of Strasbourg were literally 
strewn with arms, which had been broken 
and thrown away by the angry and 
humiliated B^rench soldiers. Most of 
those men who behtived with so little 
good-sense were members of African 
regiments, though the Mobile Guard 
and the National Guard, composed of 
the citizens of Strasbourg, maintained 
their dignity. General Von Werderand 
his staff did not enter the city until the 
30th of September, wheu Strasbourg was 
opened, as the Germans maintain, by 
treason, to the forty thousand invading 
French in 1G81. 

The spectacle that met the eyes of the 
Germans at the close of the bomlinrdnieut 
exceeded iu extent all previous con- 
ception. The two northern subiu'bs of 
Strasbourg, for a space measuring seven 
thousand feet long b}' eighteen hundred 
feet wide, according to the estimate of 
the celebrated architect, Demtiler, of 
Mecklenburg, were one mass of ruins. 
Only here and there a solitary wall 
stood up like a monument amid the deso- 
lation. Herr Dembler, iu his inspection 
of the town, discovered that there were 
scarcely one hundred houses uninjured ; 



288 



EUROPE L\ STORSI AND CALM^ 



four hiinilred :ind forty-i-ight wore 
totally destroyed ; and more thau three 
thousand were riddled with sliot and shell. 
AI)out lifteeu thousand in the subur1)S, 
before the ramparts, were almost entirely 
destroyed. Of the civil poi)ulation three 
hundred persons h:id lieen killed, and 
seventeen hundred wounded, liy the 
bombardment. Nearly twenty thousand 
persons were left without homes or 
money ; and the most moderate estimates 
made by the Germans themselves of the 
losses, on Imildings, furniture, goods, 
schools, churches, the museum, the 
theatre, the prefecture, the Hotel de 
Ville, the court-house, the bridges, etc., 
were 200,0(»0,()(MJ francs. The value of 
the art collections, and especially of the 
library, is incalculable. Truly the game 
of war does not pay. 

That which contributed most to kcci) 



alive the French hatred of the German 
troops invading Alsatia was the story 
published throughout France shortly 
after the triumphal entry of the Germans 
into Strasbourg. It was to this effect : 
that the commander-in-chief of the Prus- 
sian army, in liilleting his otiicers and em- 
ploye's upion the starved and ruined in- 
habitants of the city, issued the decree 
that each one of the persons billeted 
should have in the morning a breakfast, 
composed of coffee or tea, and bread and 
butter ; at noon a second breakfast, com- 
posed of souji and a solid dish of meat 
and vegetables ; and in the evening a 
dinnei, composed of s(^up, two dishes of 
meat, vegetables, dessert, and coffee ; 
and, during the day, two l)ottles of good 
table wine and live cigars. 

This was the crowning stroke. 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



289 



CHAPTER THIRTY. 

Through the Conquei-eil Country. — Strasbourg,' after its Trial. — Railw.ay .Journeys under Prussian Mihtary 
Rule. — Nancy. — The Bav.arians. — Epernay. — Tlio Story of Fere Jean. — Gettiug up to Versailles. 
— The Voices of the Fox'ts. 



ABOUT four o'clock in the moruing, 
some days after my first view of 
Strasbourg under Are, I arrived at Kelil, 
where plenty of ruin had been wrought 
by the French shells. The old railway 
station was gone, and I stood shivering 
in the cold night air until we were per- 
mitted to cross the Rhine on the pontoon- 
bridge, whicli was guarded by dozens of 
soldiers, as if the Germans anticipated 
the return of the French forthwith. A 
carriage soon brought me to the interior 
of Strasbourg. The drive from the 
Rhine bank to the town was through a 
scene of the rudest desolation. Great 
trees a century old lay to right and left, 
stripped of their branches, whore once 
they had stood the lofty guardians of a 
graceful avenue. Houses to right and 
in front were all burned and seared by 
hot shot and shell, and the customs build- 
ings were entirely ruined. A geuUenian 
who occupied the seat next me had been 
beleaguered in the city three weeks, and 
said that at least twenty-five hundred 
people were either killed or wounded 
during his stay there. I took coffee 
hastily in the little hotel next the ruined 
museum, and proceeded at once to the 
railway station to encounter the " Etapcn 
Commando." The streets were crowded 
with the stout soldiers of Baden, whose 
unifoini was none of the nicest, and who 
compared very unfavorably with either 
the Prussians or the French. 

jMy pass from the general staff in Ber- 
lin was fortunately worded so as to ig- 



nore the fact that I was a "newspaper 
writer," else I should have been looked 
upon with profound disdain by the offi- 
cial whom I now encoimtered. He soon 
gave me a legitiinalions-Karte, good for 
the journey to Nancy ; and by aid of this 
I secured a place in the military train. 
The carriages in use were nearly all 
Prussian or Southern German, the East- 
ern French railway having succeeded in 
removing its rolling stock before the 
invasion had reached its line. All 
distinction of classes was abolished for 
the time being, by tacit consent, and 
Alsatian peasants occupied first-class 
compartments in the railway carriages 
for the first time, probably, in their 
lives. 

We moved very slowly, with frequent 
stops between stations, and it was with 
nnich dillicultv that the Prussian officials 
succeeded in making the French under- 
stand the various new regulations. A 
railway staff had been I)rought from 
Germany, and either could not or would 
not communicate with the French in the 
French language ; and there were mis- 
understandings and vexations innumer- 
able. The train had a guard of forty or 
fifty soldiers in a front carriage, and the 
other travellers were officers, telegraph 
and postal couriers, and special messen- 
gers going to the front. All through the 
great passage of the Vosges, and in tlie 
fertile valleys at the foot of the moun- 
tains, there was au atmosphere of neg- 
lect. There were no workmen in the 



290 



EUlWrE IN STOn.V AXD CALM. 



fields, save now and tlien an adventu- 
rons plouuinnan with a solitai'y horse. 
The g'leat forests and leafy glades were 
mystic with chec-kerwork of light and 
shade ; and we might have imagined that 
we were on a holidayexonrsion,if at every 
station we had not seen the wateliful 
gnards, and stacked liehind tlieni the 
needle-guns, which guaranteed the forci- 
ble possession of Alsatia and Lorraine. 
The otlicials, red-capped and jauntily 
dressed, juked and langhed with the 
peasant girls wIkj sold refreshments for 
the otticers ; and whenever a soldier tooli 
anything without paying the i)roperprice, 
an (itlicer was proni[)tly called to redress 
the wrong and correct the offender. 

On all the roads along the hills we 
conld see long iiroeessiousof army teams, 
wagons drawn by powerful horses, slowly 
winding their various ways like huge ser- 
pents. Before thcni rode the Uhlans, 
gay and singing, their white and lilack 
lance [lonnons waving gracefully. Hero 
and there across the mellow iiclds 
spurred a Bavarian or a Saxou ollicer, 
carrying orders from one dorf to another. 
Sometimes, iu descending from the car- 
riage, 1 met a peasant, who cursed nie 
fluently while I purchased his bread and 
wine ; and once an old woman was so 
violent in her language that I beat a 
hasty retreat. But iu general tlie popu- 
lation was resuming its normal mood. 
Occasionally one cursed you roundly 
and sold you his goods at the same time, 
or chatted i)leasantly and asked eagerly 
for news. After seven lioui's of tedious 
ri<liMg we arrived at Xancy. I wislied 
to push on to Vci'sailles. liut was told 
that the trains did not I'un nights iu war- 
time ; so I went tlnough the surging 
masses of soldiery into the town. 

General Von Bonim, the commander 
of Nancy and tlie neighboring districts, 
was one of the few Prussians who have 



been whipped in recent times. An Aus- 
trian Geueral gave him a thrasliing in 
IfSGO, and he had never risen to the level 
of combative success since that occasion. 
But he seemed to have succeeded well in 
his dilhiailt mission at Nanc^'. I heard 
no word of complaint uttered against 
him, and the towns-people seemed to 
ha\e a certain admiration for his qualities. 
I called on him, and received mj- in- 
structions for the next day's journev, then 
entered the restaurant of a hotel and 
suggested the serving of dinner, as I had 
had nothing to eat for fifteen hours. 

"You nuist wait," said the gan;on, 
" until seven o'clock, until tlie regidar 
dinner. We have very little and nuist 
economize what we have. You cannot 
get much here." ^^'herenpon I succeeded 
iu persuading him that I was a neutral, 
and nuist be fed then and there. '■ Do 
yon pay, or have you a hiUvt iJeJorjement? " 
said he. " My friend, I pay, of course." 

'■^Vh, well," said he, employing a slang 
Parisian phrase, '• that is another pair of 
sleeves, and 1 will see." I had rarely 
been better served ; and at dessert the 
ijarcon. brought me a noble cluster of 
grapes, of which I am sure the unhappy 
officers who boarded at the table d'liote 
saw none. 

It was amusing to find the Prussian 
soldiers, who received only seven and a 
half thalers per month, liesieged by [leas- 
ants and old women, miserably clad, and 
tremliling with tlie cohl, who insisted 
upon having alms. I looked iu at the 
cooperative store at Nancy, and found 
that there was serious distress araoug 
the poor. The German soldiers gave, 
but not without grumbling. An old 
woman cursi'd mc from a third-story 
window during one of ray walks in the 
town, l.iecaiise I was hard-hearted towards 
a little girl who insisted upon charity. 

In the Place Stanislaus, one of the 



EVROI'E IN STOliJf AXD CALM. 



291 



finest squares in Fiance, I saw sev- 
eral companies oF Bavarians drawn np, 
waiting for billets of lodging. A few 
also were in a neighboring shop endeav- 
oring to follow the rules relative to the 
exchange between Prussian and French 
money. Notices, amply exi)lanatory, 
were posted in every place of business, 
and the thaler and pfennig, — words al- 
most unpronounceable to French lips, — 
had entirely replaced the franc and cen- 
time. The walls were covered with im- 
mense staring notices, enumerating the 
things that must or must not be done. 
The Moniteur Officiel, for this depart- 
ment, issued by the Prussians, and printed 
in French, was posted on the bulletin 
boards. There was no news in it ; but 
the reader was invited to tiie contem- 
plation of a scries of ordinances relative 
to the cattle plague. From the Place 
Stanislaus, I went down to tlie tine old 
Palace of Justice, where Jlarshal Can- 
robert once made his home ; and the 
peasant who accompanied me said that 
the story of the capture of Nancj- Ijy 
five Uhlans was true. 

" I was in the square myself ," he said, 
" when they rode in, and there was no 
serious talk of resistance. One or two 
peasants whispered, ' Let us knock 
them on the head,' but the more prudent 
at once restrained them. We were not 
afraid of them, but of what they repre- 
sented." 

The principal cafes in Nancy were 
filled with German officers, quietly sip- 
ping their beer, and reading their letters 
from home. The politeness of tliese 
men towaids the inhabitants who entered 
was curious to observe. None of the 
soldiers were overbearing, and made 
way in some of the public places some- 
what as if they considered themselves 
intruders. Regiments of Bavarians 
were constantly pouring into the town. 



and hastening to seek their (juarters for 
the night. Here, as in most of the oc- 
cupied towns, a little notice was con- 
spicuously posted, and the citizens had 
good reason to be thankful for it. It 
read thus : 

Any arbitrary requisition, whether by word 
orljy sign, calculated to intimidate any inliabi- 
tant, will be punished in a severe manner. 
Signed, 

The Ktai'F.n Cojimanpo. 

This effectually prevented much in- 
justice on the part of the soldiers ; but 
many comical misunderstandings arose 
between conquerors and conquered. In 
the evening, I saw a Fix'uch peasant 
woman in a friglitfnl passion against 
a young Bavarian oflicer, who, she said, 
had been twice quartered in their house, 
and who now returned to insult them by 
insisting on staying a third time. But 
a little inquiry disclosed the fact that 
the officer had simply returned to ex- 
press his gratitude for the handsome 
manner in which ho had been treated, 
and to leave a small gratuity. At the 
Hotel de Paris, where the commander 
had established head-quarters, most of 
the officers appeared to have won the 
favorable opinion of the landlady, who, 
to sum all up, said, "I thoroughly 
believe they have only one fault." — 
"What is that?" — "They are Prus- 
sians." 

Naturally enough all tlie theatres and 
amusements were at an end. There 
were no restrictions to traffic between 
one town to another ; and the Etapen 
Commando gave " safe conducts " to all 
peasants who asked for them. The 
farmers and crop-growers of the vicinity 
had but one aim, — to keep within the 
pale of Prussian law. 

At Nancy we found the journals 
which had come down from Eheims, and 



292 



EVROl'E IN STOIiJI AND CALM. 



Soissons, and tlie other towns in that 
section. These were little scrubby half- 
sheets, printed on poor paper, and en- 
tirely devoid of news. In the Indejx'a- 
clance Remois, at the head of the first 
column on the first page, in large type, 
was the following: "The German au- 
thorities communicate to us, with an 
order to insert it, the following de- 
spatch." Then came one of King Wil- 
liam's brief but sententious accounts of 
a Prussian victory. Telegraphic de- 
spatches were all distinguished as fol- 
lows: "From German sources." ''De- 
spatches of Foreign Origin." It must 
have been trying to the inhabitants of 
Nancy to submit t(j the arrival among 
them of the crowd of Hamburg, Frank- 
fort, and Strasbourg Jews, by no means 
of the choicest kind, who had followed 
the army, and hung out their signs in 
every street. The tobacco trade had 
been maiul3' accorded to the Hamburg- 
ers, who were driving a brisk trade with 
the soldiery. Many of the business 
places had been rented by the Hebrews, 
with the stipulation that the leases should 
last until the ^yithdrawal of the German 
troops. 

In the morning, when I went to the 
train for Epernay, I fiunul the station 
crowded with troops all bound up the 
line. There were the stout, rotund 
Prussian, shining in 1)lue and gold, 
jaunty, saucy, and defiant ; the light- 
mustaehed, thin-lipped, high-shouldered 
boy from the hussars, full of wine, 
and patting every peasant girl on the 
shoulder ; the ponderous Landvvehr- 
man, sedate and sullen, looking sadly at 
the children playing about the station ; 
the lumpy and clownish Bavarian ; the 
ethereal Saxon, resplendent in sky-T)lue ; 
and the northern Polish, Breslau, and 
Posen Lancers, gliding about among 
their comrades, who looked like dwarfs 



lieside them. Veteran colonels, in fur 
robes, which rose to their shoulders, and 
fell to their heels, rushed to and fro, 
snarling their orders. A wounded 
French oflicer crawled along on his 
crutches, and asked to be directed by 
the quickest route to Bordeaux. The 
brawny men of the army gang from 
Switzerland, Saxoiij', and the Rhine 
shouldered through the mass, singing 
their dialect songs ; anil a village cure, 
with a red cross ou his arm, told me 
terrible stories of the recent battles 
around Metz. The peasants i)roduced 
their safe conilucts, and received yellow 
tickets printed in German in exchange. 
Post officials, with huge red bands round 
their caps, hugged their courier bags, 
and fought for the best places in the 
train ; and at last we got off exactly 
three hours behind time. 

In my compartmenl I found a Prus- 
sian doctor, attached to the fifteenth 
division of the Eighth army corps, which 
was then stationed at Eheims. He had 
seen much of the fighting around Metz, 
and had been ill with that terrific scourge 
of the Prussian arnij' before the fortress 
of the Moselle, the typhoid fever. lie 
had l)een sent home to die, but a sniff of 
the fri'sh air of Berlin liad brought him 
back to life, he said, and so he was on 
the road again. He gave a picturesque 
description of tiie burning, by French 
shells, of a house in which there were 
many French wounded, and the imiiress 
of truth was in all that he said. He 
testified readily to the truth of the gen- 
eral supposition that the Prussian losses 
in killed, during the war, had thus far 
exceeded those of the French. But he 
spoke with particular earnestness of the 
superiority of the German soldiers over 
others in withstanding fatigue. " Ty- 
l)hus, bad water, and, sometimes, bad 
liquor," were the main enemies the 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



293 



German trooper had to encounter. The 
wounds made by the chassejjots, he 
thought, were very deadly, and, if not 
attended to shortly after they were in- 
flicted, the consequences were nearly 
always grave. " Mere pain," he said, 
"does not wear out the German, as it 
does other soldiers." He was especially 
eulogistic of the French trooi)s whicli 
his corps met before Metz, and recounted 
an instance which spoke volumes. A 
captain with a handful of men was 
cornered and called on to surrender. 
" We all stood and looked on," said the 
doctor. " But tlie captain cried, ' For- 
ward to die ! ' and they went in 
again, but they never came out." 

In tills same train was the aide-major 
of the French department of the military 
hospital at Versailles. He had cared for 
the wounded there until he was selected 
to undertake the diflicult mission of 
escorting the paroled convalescent 
French through the lines to a point 
whence they could reach their homes, 
and to take the prisoners as far as 
Nancy ev route for Germany. Exposure 
iind fatigue had quite broken him down ; 
and he was so worn out that he fell twice 
during an hour's walk which we took in 
one of the long stoppages of the train at 
a small station. The Etapen Commando, 
when we stopped later in the journey 
over night, said, ''Poor fellow! give 
him a good lodging. He is worse off 
than those he cares for." But the 
aide-major clung on to overloaded 
carnages, to baggage trains, to liltliy 
carts crowded with troops, until he was 
l.)ack at his post. He was seven days 
in making his way from Versailles to 
Nanteuil with one hundred and thirty 
convalescents, not long before I had met 
him. They were compelled to walk the 
whole distance, the Mayors of the little 
towns through which they passed not 



daring to give them conveyances. Once, 
in order to procure a vehicle for one or 
two discouraged members of his troop, 
he was compelled to threaten the Mayor 
with the Prussians. "I got my car- 
riage," he said with a smile, " in ten 
minutes." 

The traveller from Strasbourg to 
Paris, on his arrival at Ei)ernay, in the 
pleasant country of Champagne, used to 
be set upon by a dozen peasants, who 
insisted upon selling iiim forthwith the 
real nectar of the gods at the cost of 
2i) cents per pint. Tiie credulous 
traveller who imbibed this compound 
was for days afterwards troubled with 
singular sensations in head and stomach, 
and finally discovered that he, as well as 
the basely adulterated drink, had been 
"sold." On my arrival this time at 
Epernay, I found the same peasantry 
driving a brisk trade among the sturdy 
German soldiers, who, under the influ- 
ence of the cheering fluid, insisted upon 
kissing every girl who came witliin their 
reach. At Epernay is the branch line 
leading to Rheinis and Soissons ; and 
here were hundreds of cars rolling away 
with supplies for the Eighth army corps. 
All along the route from Strasbourg up, 
wc had met a great variety of trains, 
siiowing the richness of the Prussian 
militaiT resources. Sometimes trundled 
by us a hundred emjjty carriages, all 
marked with a red cross. At one station, 
I counted sixty baggage-cars filled with 
disinfectants alone for the camps around 
Paris. At Nancy and lilpernay were 
great heaps of hospital bedding and 
sacks of lint, for which there was as yet 
no room in the overcrowded hospitals 
beyond. Thousands of barrels of pe- 
troleum were safely stored in many 
places ; and as for grain there were 
countless sacks of it, and mountains of 
forage ; and the blue-bloused peasants 



294 



EUROPE IX STOK.U AXD CALM- 



were wdi'king night :iii<l day to carry it 
to tlie army. 

The Pi'ussiaus had lost great numliers 
of hoi'ses in llie eani[i;\ign, the ehniate 
strangely affecting them ; anil new in- 
stalments were constantly brought up 
from northern Clerrnany ; while buyers 
for the arm\' were everywhere in Ham- 
burg, Scotland, Ireland, and ICngland. 
I slept at Epernay, and rose before the 
dawn, expecting to leave by an early 
train for Nantenil, at which point, 
because the French had blown up the 
great tunnel under the mountain, railway 
communication was at an end. From 
Nanteuil to A'ersailles there were six 
posts, and 1 was told that if I made two 
daily I should be lucky. In order to 
reach Versailles it was necessary to take 
a long and wide swee[) around Paris, 
tiu-ough a host of the [jretty subiuban 
villages. Visions of mud and endless 
army convoys rose before my eyes. I 
waited four houis at lOpernay, and was 
finally compelled to clamber on to an 
open truck of a construction train, and 
on tills shaky vehicle I reached, late in 
the afternoon, a high plateau, from 
whence there was a charming view of the 
placid Marne, winding its way thr<:)ugh 
the greenest of iields and amid vine- 
clad hills. In the distance nestled two 
brown [licturesque villages, Nantenil and 
Croultes. 

Bivouacs wei'e numerous all along the 
hillsides, and fires gleamed among the 
forests. Tlie little I'ailway station was 
almost literally covered witli mountains 
of mail matter, delayed in transit to Ver- 
sailles. I walked around one of the 
heaps, twenty feet long and six feet high ; 
another rose to a height of twelve feet. 
The "field-post" wagons were loading, 
hub-deep in the nuul ; and the sturdy 
Pomeranians were singing as they swung 
the sacks on to the trucks. Here neither 



carriage nor horse was to be had for 
money or persuasion. The Etapen Com- 
mando advised me to sleep over my dis- 
ap[iointment for that night, and in the 
morning he would appeal on my belialf. 
In company with two fellow-travellers 
I walked a mile to the town under tlie 
hill. Nantenil was crowded, and a peas- 
ant woman informed me that I was none 
too good to sleep out of doors. I went 
to see the Mayor, a little (iuiljiy man 
with a greasy coat, lu'otruding upper lip, 
and a wondrous pair of spectacles. 
He was willing, Ijut incaiialile. Slept 
on the floor himself ; used to it. No 
floor for us to sleep on ? No ; he rather 
tiiought not. Inquire at the next village, 
another mile away, on the bank of the 
Marne. 

Crouttes looked inviting: but no one 
offered a lodging. In tlie middle of a 
long street stood a little group, — a bent 
and feeble old man, a hale, lirown, and 
scholarly looking fellow at his side, and 
some country bumpkins in wooden shoes. 
We asked them if French money would 
buy us lodging. "•No," said the old 
man, " not here. I have thirty horses in 
my stable and eight postilions in mj' 
liouse, and I can do no more. Have you 
billets of lodging?" — "No." — "Well," 
said the scholar, " in that case, Pere Jean 
will see what he can do for you." He 
insisted on the old farmer's finding us 
a place ; and it was not until after he had 
departed that we discovered we had made 
the acijuaintance of one of the most fa- 
mous of Parisian painters. 

The old man was sixty-two years of 
age, and had worked in the fields among 
the vines ever since he was ten. It is 
a rude life, because you must be up in 
the morning before four o'clock, and 
twist and pi't your vines liefore the sun 
comes to look at them. Then, liecause 
your wife has worked by your side all 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



295 



day, — that is the fashion in vineyard 
hiiid, — you must help lier in the kitchen, 
and it is ten o'clocli at night befoi'e bed- 
time comes. ' ' It rattles your old bones," 
said P^re Jean. But for the last month 
Pere Jeau had done but little work in the 
fields. He had been busy with the re- 
ception and care of soldiers of the Prus- 
sian government, and both he and his old 
wife were nearly worn out. Every even- 
ing a corporal arrived with six men for 
EirKjiiiirtcriiur/, and the househoUl had 
been nightly upset. 

Pere Jean passed for a rich man 
among his simple neighbors. By fifty 
years of industry he had amassed 25,000 
francs, and owned a huge old stone farm- 
house and a large court with capacious 
stables. '"When the first Prussians 
came they made a requisition on me 
which quite discouraged me ; but since 
then, voyez-vons" he said, " I have 
become used to it. They took from me 
thirty casks of wine, my best cattle, and 
pretty nearly all my linen, which was 
my wife's especial pride." He said that 
it was hard for him to believe that war 
consisted in taking his cattle and his 
wine, as well as his first-born and his 
dearest son. 

"While our dinner was cooking over a 
huge oiien fireplace we went into the 
stables, and saw the beautiful, strong 
animals, which served the royal desitateh- 
bearers ; and here the Prussian postilions 
wore moaning over a number of superb 
beasts which were dying from the effects 
of hard work and the climate. After 
many ditiiculties we arianged to leave 
the next morning with the post-«agon 
bound for Corbeil ; whence to Versailles 
we conld push on alone. 

All through this champagne country 
the peasantry are of tiie simplest habits. 
Their ideas of comfort and elegance are 
primitive in the extreme. In one corner 



of the huge old kitchen, into whicli the 
fiarmer ushered us stood an enormous 
curtained bed. One or two chairs, 
some benches, and a table were all 
the remaining furniture. Above, the 
bed-chambers were of Pompeian simi)lic- 
ity. The floors were of stone, and the 
lieds were hard and small. The house 
stood at the bottom of a huge court-yard 
which opened on the street by means of 
a large door, to which was appended a 
heavy knocker. We were given a great 
chamber, only used in times of peace 
for bridals, funerals, and rustic balls, 
and there we deposited our mattresses on 
the floor, tlie only couch in it being cov- 
ered with the remnants of the good wife's 
linen-chest, and our host evidently dis- 
liking to displace them. The old woman, 
whose liml;)s were stiff with long labor in 
the fields, informed us that she had n<it 
strength to serve ; and we were oliliged 
to wait upon our own table. Towards 
eight o'clock arrived the usual comitle- 
ment of German soldiery, who biouglit 
their own provisions with them and 
cooked them, then sat (piietly liefoi-e 
the fireside late into the night, singing 
quaint hynuis and soldier songs, in which 
we could find no taint of vulgarity. By 
midnight all was still ; and the trumpets 
of the postilions, blended with the chant 
of a cavalry troop going past, aroused us 
in the morning. 

Old Pc^re Jean was very explicit in 
his reproaches against the Emperor. 
" Now, then," said he, taking a spoonful 
of coffee in his trembling hand as we were 
leaving in the morning, " if I could Iiuy 
the Emperor liack with that. I would not 
do it. I have long enough voted and 
labored for him, but now, after what he 
has done, I cannot think of any fate bad 
enough for him." He thought that the 
people of his section might revolt one 
day unless the rigor of the recjuisitions 



2i)n 



EUROrE rX STOR]f AXn CALM. 



was softenod. '-"We have patience," 
he added, " beeause France has in a 
measure brought this war on herself; 
lint we must not be pushed." 

A little after dawn we went away at 
the he:id of a long' train of wagons 
loaded with tin; royal mail. Each of 
these wagons had a eomfortable coiqui 
in front with room for authorized pas- 
sengers. Eut the transportation of 
civilians was forbidden. Our military 
passes seemed to entitle us to the privi- 
lege of journeying with this postal train ; 
and i)resently we got away through a 
country mueh frequented by Francs- 
Tireurs, without any guard of soldiers ; 
and we observed that the postilions car- 
ried no visible wi'a[)ons. There were 
sixteen wagons, each drawn by three 
horses. The drivers were all from North 
Germany. Tliey wore a handsome uni- 
form of dai'k blue, bordered with red. 
Each carried a horn suspended at his side. 
Of these men there are several thousand 
in the Prussian service. The Bavarian 
and Saxon armies alsq^have their field- 
post. The orders were never to halt 
save when the horses must rest and be 
fed. Two conductors, who rode some 
distance ahead, marked out the routes 
for the jiiurneys, taking always the 
shortest and least crowded way. De- 
spite their adroitness we were often hin- 
dered by long teams of munition-wagons, 
which were sluwly making their way along 
the muddy hills. For half a mile along 
the road from Nanteuil we saw nothing 
but immense Ilea [is of cannon-fialls. In 
many places rude booths for the sale 
of provisions to passing soldiers had 
been estalilishcd. We went on through 
Laferte-sous-.Jouarre to Coulommiercs, 
where there were many hundreds of sol- 
diers quartered, and where, for the first 
time since the declaration of the I^epnlilic, 
I saw these words inscribed on an edifice : 



"The French Eepublic, 1870. Liljerty, 
P^quality, Fraternity." Here, for the 
lirst time also, we saw sentinels at the 
entrance of a town. They were sheltered 
in little straw-covered boxes ; and were 
continually on the alert to salute the 
officers and question the |>easants who 
passed in and out. Towards dusk we 
came to the gate of a chateau, thirty-two 
kilometers from I'aris ; and in fnjnt of 
the gates the ijostilions began i)layiug 
cheery tunes n}ion their horns. 

The chateau stood in the midst of a 
fertile plain, with gently sloiiing hills in 
the distance. It was one of those an- 
cient manors upon which, in all old 
countries, generally hangs a dirty and 
sordiil dei)endency of a hamlet, notable 
chiefly for its hovels and unclean streets. 
As we entered on the turf-carpeted green 
of the castle a body of Wurtemburg 
soldiers marched out to meet us, and the 
chorus of horns from the old servants' 
hall of the domain made the uight- 
air melodious. There was a whiff of 
rain in the atmosphere ; a light wind 
tugged at the masses of dead leaves iu 
the forest, seeming to urge them to 
fantastic dances. A Pomeranian, deco- 
ated with all the colors in the Prussian 
military chrome, came out to meet ns. 
" You are just in time," he said ; " there 
was an alcrti', as the French call it, on 
your route about an hour ago; but no 
one was hurt." He invited ns to stay 
and SMI) with the postilions; liut we 
sought lodgings outside the clulteau 
gates at the hostelry. It could only 
afford us one room and no bedding, so 
we slept on chairs as best we could, 
mu<'h disturl)ed by the boisterous songs 
sung liy Pomeranian troopers, who 
wi're drinking in the room below. The 
burden of the jjrincipal song was " Jesu, 
Jlaria ; " whence I concluded that our 
military friends were religiously disposed. 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



297 



Our host came to talk vrith lis late at 
iiiglit, saying, when asked if he could 
furuish provisions, wine, etc., that he 
had nothing left. But when he fonnd that 
we were neither Prussians nor French, 
and were certain to pay him, he filled 
our baskets from a well-stocked larder. 
We were off again at sunfise, clatter- 
ing through a blinding rain, and en route 
for Tournois, a quaint and pleasant 
town. At each 4tape, or post, our passes 
were vised., and we were often questioned 
concerning our business at hcad-quarteis. 
About noon we passed through a great 
forest, and saw numbers of horses with 
their throats cut lying by the road-side, 
where they had fallen from fatigue. 
One or two were not dead, as we passed 
them, and it was piteous to hear them 
neigh faintly as they heard the souud of 
hoofs. Their bntchers, some Bavarians, 
were just ahead, and from them we 
learned that a heavy fight had taken 
place three days before, at Drenx. 
Here, also, we saw some Uhlaus for- 
aging. Two of them rode up to a village 
at a little distance from the road, and 
presently overtook us with some fat hens 
tied to their saddle-bows. An old woman 
ran out after them, looking wistfully at 
her poultrj', — perhaps not the first she 
had Ijeen called u|)on to fiu-nish. Tiie 
rain came rolling down in great spouts 
across the plain on which we now 
entered ; and some of the weaker Prus- 
sians and Bavarians — part of a march- 
ing column which we were passing — 
sank down 1)y the road-side. Our drivers 
heeded none of their appeals to be taken 
up, and told us that it was against orders 
to carry a soldier. Many of the younger 
men were so stiff that they could not 
move their limbs, and some F"rench 
peasants, overcome by ]iity, put them 
into their carts, and tlius they jolted 
wearily along. We passed, this day, 



about one thousand wagons at different 
periods, all laden with sick and wounded, 
coming down from "■ Vor Paris." These 
were most pitiful to look upon. Manj^ 
of the men vvere half dead with fever, 
others so grievously wounded that at 
every jolt of the rough carts cries of 
pain were wrung from them. Three or 
four of these wretches were always 
huddled together under a little canvas 
covering, and lay groaning, a mass of 
sickness and desolation. Beside these 
pi'oeessions always rode a guard of the 
watchful Uhlans. Towards evening we 
reached Corbeil, where the French, 
in a frenzied horror on learning of the 
approach of the Prussians, had blown 
up one of the finest bridges on the Seine. 
The Prussians insisted that the French 
should have this repaired by a certain 
date, or pay a heavy fine. The date 
was passed when we arrived, but the 
work was not completed. Two tempo- 
rary bridges allowed the ai'my free pas- 
sage ; and here at Corbeil the Prussians 
had established a strong di5pOt for mili- 
tai-y stores. As we descended the steep 
hill leading into the town the thunder 
of the Prussian cannon was plainly 
heard. All Corbeil was in excitement. 
The cannon had not been heard before 
for many days, and the inhabitants con- 
cluded that a general action was taking 
place. Montrouge was barking furi- 
ously in return ; and now and then the 
sonorous voice of !Mont Valerien was 
heard clamoring for war. To this 
music we sat down to supper. Find- 
ing that if one went into the streets 
after seven o'clock he was liable to 
arrest, we rolled into the first comforta- 
ble beds we had seen for three days. 
Here were also mountains of mail matter, 
and here the roails were worn out with 
the constant passage of hcav_y army 
trains. The mud was so deep that, a 



298 



EUROPE IN STORM AM) (WI.M. 



wagou once fixed in it, tlie united efforts 
of ;i whole eompanj' could scarcely stir 
it. It was evident that for the good lady 
of the inn where we stayed the war had 
its revenges, for her customers were all 
oflicei's of superior grade, and paid 
roundly for what they had. The rail- 
way station had been closed for two 
mouths. The clock was stopped at ten 
minutes past eight, the hour when the 
last train left the town. Towards noon 
of the next day my companions de- 
parted for I>agny, and I climlted alone 
into the post wagon of the Third army 
corps, said post wagon lieing a dilapi- 
datecl omuil)US which formerly ran to 
Lonjumean. We took two soldiers as a 
guard, and clattered away over the 
hills, shortly to meet a convoy of un- 
happy French prisoners marching from 
Dreux down to the railway of Lagny, 
thence to be sent into Germany. This 
was one of the saddest spectacles I had 
seen. The whole ghastly mass of men, 
faltering past, hurried forward rather 
brutally liy cavalry, the wounded 
crowded in carts, and hanging down 
their feverish heads, the women stand- 
ing in the doorways, and calling on God 
to crush the Prussians, the hungry looks 
of the officers as they saw through the 
open windows their enemies feasting in 
cahcn'i'n, — all this left a pang in my 
mind, and cut to the heart. 

The nearer one a[iproached ^'ersailles, 
the more evident it was that the Germans 
had come for a long stay. " Not even 
if Paris makes iieace to-morrow," said a 
Wurteml)urg otlieer to me, ''will the 
troops be withdrawn until the caution 
money"' — .as he calleil it — ■•is [laid." 
Some of the villages along the road pre- 
sented <inite a holiday ap[ieaianee : a 
regimental liand was giving a morning 
concert in one : in another, there was a 
review of caxaliv, at which the inhabi- 



tants were witnesses without expression 
of approval or discontent. In every 
town there was a battery and a sanitary 
station. All the important places of 
business were closed, and at Villeneuve 
St. Georges, a beautiful sul)urban resort 
for Parisians, there were only a few 
people left. The houses which had been 
closed by their owners remained un- 
touched, — no troops were (luartered in 
or near them. 

We drew up before the chief liureau 
of the Prussian military post-ofHce, hav- 
ing made our nine leagues from C'orbeil 
to Versailles in three hours and a half. 
There was a sullen, ominous roaring in 
the direction of Paris, which, at fiist. 
seemed to lie steadily a|)proaching ; but 
I soon became accustomed to the voices 
of the forts. 

In the hotel, where I succeeded after 
many entreaties in getting a lodging, all 
the soldiers who had been quartered 
there for the last two months had pet 
names, and took |iart in the household 
drudg(MT, as if they were sons of the 
family. (Jn the evening of my arrival 
a wretched sneak of a Bavarian, newly 
arrived, had stolen a little spaniel, which 
was one of the household treasures, and 
a whole coriioral's guard was turned out 
to bring him to justice. The dog was 
found, and the otIicer,in investigating the 
case, made as much ado as if it had 
been theft of an oliject of art from the 
palace. The landlady, who was highh' 
confidential, infVirmed me that two of 
the best of her invading fi-iends. August 
and Ileinrich, were to go to Orleans to- 
morrow. " It is a burning shame," 
said the old laily. " to send sucli hand- 
some boys as that to be slaughtered;" 
and she looked quite disconsolate. 
" When the Prussians are gone," she 
remarked shortly afterwanls, ■• it will 
lie very hjnesome at \'er»ailles : there 



EUnOPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



299 



■will be nothing but you casual stran- 
gers." 

The invaders bowed not only to the 
charms but to the authority of the 
French serving-maids. In the front 
parlor of tlie inn, on this evening in 
question, I remarked four stalwart 
fellows who had just arrived with their 
billets all in proper order. lu hearty 
German style thej' began to clamor, 
" Madame ! Here ! Attention ! Bed ! 
A light ! Supper ! " Upon this, tlie 
beautiful houseuuiid came upon the 



scene, withering them all with a glance. 
" Silence, you noisy dragons! You big 
one with a white cap, take off your 
sword, and sit down ! Silence, all of 
you ! " Cowed and overwhelmed, al- 
though not understanding a word, the 
hungry fellows sat down, nor dared to 
stir until Agnes found time to serve 
them, an hour or two later. If one [pre- 
sumed to proffer gallantry he had good 
reason to remember the aveuging arm of 
Agnes. 



300 



EUROPE IX STOIIM AXD CALM. 



CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE. 

The Period of Hope. — Spleiiiliil Improvisation of Defence. — What Paris ditl under Pressure. — The 
Forts and tlieir Armament. — The Departure of Gambetta in a Balloon. — Ontcroppin<,''S of the Com- 
mune. — Fights outside the Walls of tlic Capital. — The Defense of Chateaudun. — A Bri^'ht Page in 
FreiH'h Military Annals. — A Panie .at Versailles. — Von Moltke saves his Papers. — German Prepa- 
rations for Defense. 



~VTO ddiilit till' GovtTiiinoiit of >.':i- 
-L^ tiDiial Defense ri'ceivnl ;i srvere 
movii\ slnii'k from the tone of the inter- 
view whieh its ie[)resentative had liad at 
Ferrii^res with the exacting and uueinn- 
|)i-oniising enemy ; still, the period of 
the siege of Paris e()iiii)rised lietween 
the oeeiii)atiou of Versailles and the first 
days of Ntjvember may lie eltai'aeterized 
as the period of hope. Tlie |iosition of 
the Germans for forty days after their 
tirrival was by no means seenre. They 
had lint a compartitively small army at 
tlieir disposition, with whieh to inider- 
take file most formidable investment of 
tlie <'entiirv. So long :is Strasbourg and 
Met/, dehiyed before their fortifications 
the other German troops which were so 
necessary to the investment of Paris, 
Von Moltke could scarcely have felt 
certain of accomplishing his task. The 
fortimes of war might have placed him 
in a hnmiliating and inextricable posi- 
tion, and the King of Prussia might have 
fomid himself jirisoner in France, while 
the F^mperor of France was a prisoner in 
Germany. Of course the Germans had 
a perfect phin for laying the siege, as 
they h:id plans for everything else, pre- 
]iared and yirtictised for htilf a genera- 
tion. 

While thcv were doing as liest they 
could with the forces at their command 
outside, the besieged Parisitins were 
vrorking with an energy all tlie more 



honcir;il)le liecause it offered snch a 
striking contrast to their negligence, 
ctirelessness, and want of thought under 
the Empire. 

The government found tluit it was no 
smtiU task to nuin the walls of Paris. 
The cliain of forts from C'harenton, 
stretching entirely round the city, cov- 
ered a distance of no less than thirty- 
nine kilometres, without coimting the 
detached works, some of which, like INIont 
Valerien, were enormous and formidable 
fortresses. These forts, — Charenton, 
'N'incennes, Nogent, Rosny, Noisy, Ro- 
mainville, Aubervilliers, F'st, Double 
Couronue du Nord, La Bicche, Mont 
Valerien, Issy, Vanves, Montrouge, 
Bicetre, and Ivry, — sixteen in number, 
were from three to foui- thousand metres 
apart, with the exception of La Breche 
and Mont Valerien, which were sep- 
arated by a gtiji of more than twelve 
thousand metres, and Mont Valerien 
and Issy seventy-five hiuidrcd metres 
apart. None of these forts were more 
than live thousand, and some of them 
were only fifteen hundred, metres from 
Paris proper. To guard the ninety-four 
bastions of this tremendous circle of 
stone and iron more than one hundred 
thousand men were necessary. Of reg- 
ular troops, the Committee of National 
Defense found that it could count upon 
scarcely sixty thousand of all liranches, 
most of them lirought Iitick by General 



EVROrE TN STORM AXD CALM. 



301 



Vinoy from the neighborhood of Sedan. 
But there were the three liundred and 
fifty or three hundred and sixty tliousand 
National Guards, and to them it was 
tlionglit, despite the fears that they 
miglit undertake an insurreetion of 
communistic cliaracter, necessary to 
confide the defense of the fortifica- 
tions. 

But this was not all. The men were 
found ; the guards of the ramparts were 
found ; but each bastion ought for safety 



iind a garrison, well controlled, well 
e(iuipped, and full of light. 

The astonishing energy of our northern 
towns in our civil war was more than 
paralleled ; it was fairly outdone liy the 
gigantic and swift efforts of the Repub- 
lican government in Paris to build up the 
material for defense. 

The committee organized a corps of 
from sixty to seventy thousand men, 
soldiers or artisans of the better class, 
whose special duty was to make the 




CAMP OF THE FRENCH MARINES AT ST. VITRY. 



to be armed with seven pieces of cannon. 
Paris ought, in short, to have two great 
parks of artiller3', each with two hundred 
and fifty cannon, in its reserve ; but tiie 
Empire had left it next to nothing. 
There were in the magazines neither 
shells nor the elements necessary to 
manufacture them. There were only 
about two million pounds of powder, or 
scarcely ten rounds apiece, to the cannon 
which Paris would have to possess if it 
made a respectable defense. In some 
of the forts there was only a guardian to 
watch over the material, where the 
Republican authorities had expected to 



cannon, the powder, and the otlier 
instruments of defense, and to put them 
into position. Without and within the 
city the activity for more tiian a month 
was incessant night and day. More 
than two million sacks filled with earth 
were placed uijon the most exposed por- 
tions of the ramparts ; in the bastions, 
great hogsheads, packed with sand, so 
arranged that they might serve as a 
second line of defense, were placed. 
Seventy powder magazines were impro- 
vised. Six of the principal forts were 
occupied by marines, taken from the 
ships which had proved so useless in the 



302 



EVEOPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



first jiai't of tlie campaign. Electric 
lights, ilfstiiUMl to iirevent operations in 
the fields roini<l Paris by the eueuiy 
(lining tlie night, were established on all 
the forts. The Seine was liarred. The 
dozens of \illages ronud about the 
rapital were entrenched; the houses were 
loo|)holed ; the streets were filled with 
barricades: and eighty thousand men 
were [Hit upon tliis work of fortifying 
the villages in a single day. A fort- 
night after the committee had begun its 
work two thousand one hundred and 
forty cannon were placed iu position, 
and the store of jiowder had been 
increased to more than six million 
[lounds. Tlie pniilic service of water 
had been cared for, so that the enemy 
Could not i-educe the fortress by thirst ; 
and the commission of civil engineers 
had ordered from the niannfactories, 
hastily installed, more than one hundred 
III iln dill' iiai'ft of different models, one 
hiiiiilred and fifteen Gatliug and Chris- 
tophe guns, three hundred and twelve 
thousand cartridges for these cannon, 
fifty nioitars with their accessories, 
five hundred thousand shells of various 
calilire. five thousand liombs, three 
hundri'd cannon of a special new model, 
intended to carry as far as the German 
guns, which were said to be coming n\> 
for the threatened bombardment; and, 
finally, there \v;is a commission of bar- 
ricades, over which M. Koehefort had 
been called to pi'eside. and which was 
supjiosed to be iilanning a net-work of 
barriers to constitute a third and final 
line of defense in case the enemy suc- 
cessfnlly undertook an assault and was 
willing to indulge in the dangerous game 
of street-fighting. 

So, in this pt'riod of hope, the whole 
city was transformed into a vast camii 
and factory. The whole oiceijitc of the 
fortifications was divided into nine sec- 



tions, seven of which were commanded by 
admirals, under whose orders were the 
National Guard of Paris, divided into a 
first line on the I'amparts, and a reserve. 
r>eliinil these were the National Guard 
Mobile, as a second reserve, and the 
troojis of tlv line as a third. The artil- 
lery on the left bank of the Seine was 
commanded liy a division-general named 
Bentzman, and General Pelissier com- 
manded that of the right bank. After a 
time, a service of gun-boats on the Seine 
was organized, and did considerable dam- 
age to the enemy. The fatal weakness 
of the defense was not to be remedied, 
for the Germans had done their best as 
soon as tlii'v cf)uld get to the point where 
it was manifest to prevent the Republic 
from repairing the neglect of the Em|iire. 
The fact that the heights of jMontretout 
and Chatillon were not properly' forti- 
fied enabled the Germans to bombard 
without difficulty all the forts on the 
southern side of the fortifications of 
Paris, and finally the whole southern 
section of the capital. If Chatillon had 
Ijeen jirovided with a decent defense it 
is probable that the liombardment of 
Palis would never have occurred. 

It took the Parisians s<inie time to real- 
ize that they were actually hemmed in ; 
but they were brought to complete reali- 
zation of their position about the 'Jth or 
lotli of October, when the supi)lies of 
fresh meat began to fail, and all classes 
were reduceil to horse-flesh and to a va- 
riety of ingeni(jus ]H'etexts for meat, 
which refiected nmch credit on the skill 
of the cooks of Paris, liut which did little 
for the nourishment of the human frame. 

"October the Hth," writes a Parisian, 
in his journal, (jf the siege, "a chicken 
was sold at "2.") francs; vegetables taken 
fi-om the lields just within our [licket lines 
and lirouglitin and sold in the streets by 
marauders who had stolen them were 



EUROrE jy STORM AXD CALM. 



303 



sold as quickly and for as liiiili prioos as 
if they wore rare fruits." 

Tlie first cloud that came over the 
period of hope in the siege was on tlie 
day when the regular ration — one hun- 
dred grammes per person — of fresh meat 
gave out, and it was pulilicly announced 
that no more could be had. The Com- 
munists tried to take advantage of tlie 
situation. Cynical writers in radical 
papers spoke of a possible revolt of the 
people, and used the sinister phrase : 
'• Hunger justifies the means." 

Felix Pyat, the old and dangeioiLs 



People heard of ■• delegates of commit- 
tees of safety." This Comnnuiistic move- 
ment had its head-quarters at Belleville 
and ]\Ienilmontant, two sections of the 
city where the working class is in great 
majority. The National Guard, recruited 
from these quarters, was watched with 
grave anxiet}' by the Government <jf 
National Defense, for it was felt that 
from them would come the first attempt 
at civil war. 

Every day this faction grew bolder ; 
finally it sent a delegation, headed by 
Floureus, whose historv has been re- 



I' t — q — cj 

HUB B[i[ 




/;/<^ 



KUNXIXG AWAY FROM THE SIEGE. 



offender against the laws of jiroperty and 
society, began to prate about the unity 
of goods as well as the unity of danger. 
The centi'al Republican conunittee of the 
twenty wards of Paris, recently consti- 
tuted, began to pulilisli its manifestoes. 
It was highly patriotic ; but from the out- 
set it was observed that all its efforts 
tended directly towards the establish- 
ment of the Commune. In one of its cir- 
culars it even demanded the innnediate 
transfer of the control of municipal affairs 
from the general government to that of 
tlie "Commune of Paris." The jargon 
of the old Revolution began to appear. 
The ministers were called '• citizens." 



counted in a [irevious chapter, at the 
head of some battalions, to demand of 
the government a certain number of 
arms, which were lying in tlie magazines 
of the State to insist that they should 
call for a levfe en masse, and that an 
immediate sortie against the Prussians 
should be decided on. Tliis was the out- 
cropping of revolution with a vengeance, 
and General Trochu and his colleagues 
were unquestionably alarmed. ButCJen- 
eral Troclui behaved with much clever- 
ness, reproached Flonrens for having 
provoked the movement at sncli a time, 
and l)egged him to go back to his duty. 
Floureus imniediatelv resigned his com- 



304 



EUROPE IN f^TORM AXD CALM. 



mission us ;in otlicer of tlie Niitionnl 
Giianl. and a ninnln^T of liis fellow olli- 
cers foUoweil bis oxamiilc. 

Nothiny: eame of this manifestation, 
except tliat Flonrens declared in the 
circles where he was popular that, in 
order to save Paris, " they would have to 
finish witii these people at the Hotel de 
Ville," — meaning the members of the 
Government of National Defense. 

Meantime Ganil>etta, after issuing a 
fierv i)i'oclamation announcing that the 
leri'i' en mos^c, which the Communists 
had aslxed for, was already an accom- 
plished fact in the provinces, stepiied 
into the ear of a balloon, and at the 
risk of his life, or at least of his libert}', 
set otf on a voyage tlu'ough the air, in 
the hoi)e of reaching Tours, where a 
delegation was doing its best to create a 
solid army. 'J'his aerial trip of Gam- 
betta's struciv the popular fancy witli 
great force, and his successful arrival 
within the French lines outside and the 
occasional reports of his eueigetic labors 
did mucli to ]\eep up tlie spirits of the 
Parisians. 

Gambetta was a determined enemy of 
the Communistic factit)n, and the Com- 
munists rejoiced when he had left Paris. 
They made two or three attempts to 
cai)ture the HOlel de Ville at different 
times. Tliese abortive insurrections 
were speedily re|>orted to the Prussians 
at Versailles, ami exaggerated accounts 
of them si)rea(l about in tlie Germnn 
lines, and serveil to explain tliat which 
the Germans had at first observed with 
astonishment, — tlial none of the great 
masses of forces within tlio walls of the 
capital moved out to assail the auda- 
cious enemy. 

At last military opeiatious were begun 
liy tlie Parisians, who now had heard of 
the fall of Strasbourg, and wlio felt that 
determined efforts to break the German 



circle must be made before it was 
strengthened. But tlie various sorties 
at Bond^-, at Malmaison, where General 
Ducrot expected that he would find the 
Germans, but did not discover them ; in 
front of the Fort of Montrouge, and at 
that same Chatillon which was ahead}' 
associated with so many disasters, — 
were productive of small good to the 
French cause. 

On the 11th of October General 
Trochu thought that, from the great 
movements which were going on among 
the German troops in the rear of the 
south-eastern forts of Chatillon and 
Bagneux along the route from Versailles 
to Clioisy, the Germans must have evac- 
uated the plateau of Chatillon; so he 
made an effort to retake it. He pushed 
on General Blanchard with about twelve 
thousandmen, divided into three columns, 
to a point above Clamart, Chatillon, and 
Bagneux. These troops, supported by 
the forts of INIontrouge, Vanves, and 
Issy, went up through the village of 
Clamart on to the road uniting Clamart 
and Chatillon, took the village of Bagn- 
eux, where the brave commandant 
Dampierre was mortally wounded. But 
when these troops came to undertake 
the assault on Chatillon they found that 
they had been entirely mistaken. They 
all beat a hasty retreat before the masses 
of the enemy, which had not the slightest 
intention of giving up its vantage-grouud 
in the neighborhood of the capital. 

The death of the commandant Dam- 
liierre made a great sensation in 
Paris. His body was placed in the Pan- 
theon, with the sword of combat laid 
uiion his breast, and there was a military 
demonstration at his funeral. 

Two days after this fight the Pari- 
sians saw great jets of flame leaping up 
skyward in the direction of St. Cloud. 
This denoted the burning of the Palace, 



EUEOrE IX STORM AND CALM. 



305 



set on fire by shi'lls from Mont ^'alerit'ii, 
)iceause the Frenoli heliev(_-d that the 
Prussians had there estalilislied an ob- 
servatory for tlieir general staff. " In 
less than six hours," says M. Jules Cla- 
retie, in his " History of the Revolution 
■of 1870-71," "this palaee, whieli had 
received so many distinguished guests 
and seen so many strange fortunes, was 
entirely consumed." M. Claretie is in 
error in this statement. The chateau of 
.St. Cloud was but partially burned at 
that time, and hundreds ui)()n hundreds 
of shells were fired into it weekly until 
the caiutulation in January. 

Around this Palace, and all through 
the Park of St. Cloud, as fnr as Ville 
d'Avray, the fire from the French forts 
was particularly effective, and many a 
stout German was struck down daily by 
the death missiles coming from the un- 
seen enemy. On the day before the 
surrender of the foi'ts I rode to \'ille 
d'Avray, and thence walked through the 
Park of St. Cloud, here and there grop- 
ing my way in the trenches roofed with 
tree-boughs, in which the soldiers had 
then been living for more than two 
months, and came out near the ruins of 
the Palace just as tlie Crown Prince of 
Prussia, attended by a staff of forty or 
fifty oliicers, rode up the hill from the 
banks of the Seine, and turned to look 
at the French sharp-shooters, who were 
very numerous along the other bank, and 
who were making great efforts to inflict 
damage. The position was not one to 
be chosen for comfort. The shells came 
crashing into the ruins and along the 
ti'enches every minute. I counted four- 
teen which fell in cli^se ])r()ximitv to the 
staff while the group of horsemen halted 
upon the brow of the hill. The ^;/(i;/ of 
the bullets from the French lines was 
incessant ; but the Crown Prince, with 
his usual disregard of his own personal 



safety when there was any duty to per- 
form, had ridden along the whole avenue 
where the fair of St. Cloud is usually 
held, and had thus, while quite within 
range, exposed himself to the inimical 
bullets of two or three hundred soldiers. 

The palace of St. Cloud has never 
been rebuilt. It stands a picturesque 
ruin in the midst of the exquisite forest, 
and the Republican government, which 
lias a sense of the fitness of things, has 
repeatedly declined offers from capital- 
ists for its conversion into casinos, crys- 
tal palaces, or gambling-hells. It was 
to this palace that the first Bonaparte 
came after Brumaire ; that the victorious 
Blucher entered after Alma; from this 
palace that the Empress of the French 
returned in Jiaste to })erturlied Paris after 
she had heard the news from Sedan ; and 
the Germans say that the Prince Von Ho- 
henzollern, who had been the innocent 
cause of the whole war, rode up to the 
doors of St. C'loud and straight through 
the deserted palace on the day after the 
caging of Napoleon III. at Sedan. 

It was from St. Cloud that Napoleon 
III. announced his intention of declaring 
war against Germany. 

On the 14th of October the Prussians 
asked for an armistice to bury their dead ; 
and there was much rejoicing in Paris 
over the fact that the enemy's losses 
were severe. Every night, and generally 
by day, for the next few days, the 
cannon on the walls of Paris roared 
unceasingly, wasting hundreds of thou- 
sands of francs' worth of ammunition, as 
those of us who were outside with the 
besiegers could observe. The principles 
which guided the action of the French 
aitiller3'-meu were a mystery to the lie- 
siegers. 

During the occupation of Versailles I 
used frequently to ride through that 
town to St. Germain, and at a certain 



30 G 



ECIlarE IX STOIIM AXD CALM. 



point on the road c-aine out on a liari' 
liill-sidu diiX'C'tly facing St. Cloud. This 
hill-.sidi' w;is not witliin range, and the 
gunn<'rsori\Iont\'alerien inurst have found 
it out at lea.st a niontli before my fre- 
quent journeys l)aelv and forth. IJut 
they never failed to sahite uiy a[)[)ear- 
anee, or tliat of any liorseuiau on that 
point upon the route, with lialf-a-dozeu 
cannon shots, nhieh i-ost nnieh money, 
and were not of the sliglitest avail. 

On the 21st of October a second .sortie 
of importance tuok place, about twelve 
thousand men, under the ordei's of Gen- 
eral Ducrot, being engaged in it. It 
was a rccnnnnissaiice, but prepared for 
ofi'ensive operations. The troops went 
out by Rneil, Buzenval, Bougival, and 
IMalmaisou. This was a vigorous sortie, 
and was so well kept up at first that 
there was a slight panic at Versailles. 
The Germans, for half an hour, were 
occupied with vigorous preparations for 
departure. The Frencli artillery had 
opened a heavy fire on Buz('nval and 
Malmais(.)n, and the troops hail carried 
tlie first German positions. l!ut wlien 
tliey had turned Malmaisou, and gone up 
the slojies of .lonchcre, they found the 
enemy amlmscaded in tlie woods or in 
tiie houses of the village too strong for 
them. They asserted, with truth, that 
a short time after tlie announi/emeut of 
the battle, all along the hue, even up to 
Montretout, they had a distinct advan- 
tage The Germans lost heavily, the 
Forty-sixth Prussian regiment being quite 
cut to pieces. The Parisians were very 
indignant at the mananivres of the Ger- 
mans, who, while standing under a heavy 
lire, tlu'cw themselves down in great dis- 
order, as if they were nearly all killed, 
or about to crawl away. This ruse de- 
ceived the French, who ihtshed forward, 
tiiiuking that they could rush over the 
enemy ; but when they were at three 



lunidred paces the Germans arose, and 
[loured a triMuendoHS fire into their 
ranks ; and from that time forward the 
tiortie was checked. At nightfall Gen- 
eral Ducrot ordered a retreat, and the 
Prussians pursued the retreating French 
with a very disastrous fire. 

The French accounts of the panic at 
Versailles have been liut little exagger- 
ated. The Germans began to get ready 
the reserve liatterics, which had been 
ranged for more than a moutli in long 
lines on tlie Place d'Armes, at Versailles, 
and to station them so that tliey would 
sweep the avenues of 8t. Cloud, of Paris, 
and of Sceaux, iu case the French troops 
arrived. The gates of the city were 
closed. Von Moltke, it is reported, de- 
stroyed a large number of his papers 
and important despatches, had others- 
hastily done up iu sheets and towels, 
and ready to be carrietl off, jumped 
on to a horse, and went out to looic at 
the fight. It was, jirolialily, his pres- 
ence and the few cool bits of advice 
which he gave on arriving on tlie scene 
of action which saved the day. In their 
retreat the French lost two cannon, 
wliich the Fiftieth Prussian infantiy took 
from tiiem. 

In tlie provinces, the army of the 
Loire, which was destined to such a sad 
fate, was by the end of October in fairly 
good condition. There had been a battle 
and a French defeat at Orleans, where 
an army corps composed of Bavarians 
and Prussians under the command of 
Gieneral Von der Tann, and a detacii- 
ment of cavalry commanded by Prince 
Allirecht of Prussia, were operating. 
Tlie little town of Chateaudun had made 
a defense so lienjic against over- 
whelming numbers that the renown of 
its ex|iloits penetrated into every circle 
in Europe and even won the admiration 
of the enemy. The anniversary of this 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



307 



defense has become a commemorative /(?<e 
in France, and the •' Francs-Tirenrs," or 
irregular voUuiteers, who held this town 
until it was almost burned to ashes, 
against a Prussian division of twelve 
thousand men, with twenty-four i»ieees 
of artillery, deserve to rank beside the 
heroes of the Alamo. 

C'hateaudun was pillaged first and 
burned afterwards by the angry enemy, 
which had not seen any such resistance 
since it bad entered the country. The 
German accounts of the bombardment 
and sacking of the town furnish suflieient 
accusation against the victors, who, in 
this case, abused their power. A 
statement in the official journal of 
Berlin shortly after the affair thus 
describes the condition of the town of 
Chilteaudun: "Demolished walls, over- 
turned gateways, and pierced roofs make 
the streets nearly impassable. The 
i-hnrch itself has been almost destioyed 
l>y shells ; immense blocks of stone are 
torn from its wall ; the tiles are scattered 
like leaves in a forest ; and a grenade 
has blown the belfry half away. P^ntire 
streets were in flames when the troops 
entered. The extent of the conflagration 
and the violence of the storm of wind 
which carried the flames hither and yon 
rendered any idea of extinguishing the 
fire impracticable. There was scarcely 
a decent room to lie had in the town for 
Prince Albrecht and the commanders of 



iiis division. The officers bivouiicked 
with the troops in the open air. Dining 
the engagement of the previous night 
tiie French had neglected their wounded, 
a great number of whom remained in the 
streets, and were burned alive. On the 
morning of the 20th, at five o'clock, the 
Prussian division took up its march 
again. The flames which slill came 
from the ruins were so strong that they 
lit up the horizon as cleaiiy as if it 
were day." 

Cliateaudun thus became celebrateil in 
French annals. The government issued 
in its favor the customary decree : 
" Chilteaudun has merited well of t!ie 
country." Paris named one of its 
streets after the unhai)i)y town. Victor 
Hugo, when some huge cannon were 
going on to the fortifications, demanded 
that one of them should be called 
C'hateaudun. 

St. Quentin, in the north, had also 
made an heroic resistance. The period 
of hopefulness was not yet over, but it 
was greatly clouded by the unfortunate 
termination of tlic lirilliant affair at Le 
Bourget, by the announcement of the 
fall of Metz, by the government's de- 
termination to propose an armistice, and 
by the Communistic insurrection of the 
31st of Octolier, when Paris seemed 
to escape civil war by nothing less 
than the interposition of Providence. 



308 



EUROl'E IX STUliM AXD CALM. 



CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO. 



TIic Siofce ofMetz. — Its Tragedies and its Iluraois. — Steinmetz the TeiTiblc. — Bazainc's Curious Indeci- 
sion.— Tlio (Jucrilla Warfare around tlic Fortress. — The Poisoned Wells Legend. — Starving the 
Citizens. — The Odor of Death. —General (.'luingarnior's Mission. 



IN the iiiii-tli-\vrstcni part (if that 
pifturcs((iii' ami rich departniciit of 
Frtiiice kimwu as the Moselle sttiiids :tu 
almi'st iiuiuTonalik' forti'ess, ■which for 
scxiiilY tlays oeeiiiiircl the attention of 
the whole civilized world. The battles 
which were fought near its walls wefc 
Miieh as were never seen upon the windy 
pl:\ins (if Tr(i\, — battles which cling in 
the menioi'y like a liideons nightmare, 
redeenicil liere and there by some :tct of 
pnrifving heroism, some snblime example 
of dntv and faith and patience. One 
hnndred and seventy-three thousand 
men at last surrendered there to barely 
two hinidre(l tliousand, and the shame- 
ful campaign seemed at its climax. 
Bazaine had stainiMJ Ins nam:' with igno- 
miny ; and C'anrobert, whether or not lie 
■were culi)able, w;i,s at Itxst doomed to do 
pentince for being so long in bad com- 
pany. Tliese two were most efTicient 
■vvitnesses to the truth of the assertion 
that the Empire was not able to raise up 
men to protect France. The stronghold 
of the country, tlie mnch-covetetl gate, 
was unlocked ; and wlio now c(jnld clieck 
the descendants of tlie Brandenburg 
pirates? Not even the army of the Loire, 
not even Garilialdi, noryet the fiery, un- 
tamed Ganibetta, seemed able to stay 
the avenuing hand wliich had liecu 
stretched over Fi-ancc. 

The Germans were ■^vont to say that 
Metz was the >s'(/r//V' gate tVir France, as 
indeed it might have been to Prussia's 
humiliation, had Xa[ioleou spent in or- 



ganizing foreign expeditions one-half of 
the time he had given to the protection " 
of himself from his own enraged countr^-- 
men. The Romans, vrith their rare eyes, 
found Metz a strongiiold of strongholds, 
and named it Divodorum. Here the Me- 
diomatrici, :i powerful and warlike tribe, 
then lived, and from the corrupti(^u of 
various dialects in pronoiinetng their 
name finally arose tlie sobriquet of 
Metz. lu 4.'>2 the Huns destroyed the 
town ; liut as this was before it had risen 
to a wtiUed fortress, tlie Metzcrs boast 
that it never has been •• taken." It is 
near the north-eastern Franco-Prussian 
frontier, and the country around is strik- 
ingly beautiful. The Prussian soldiers, 
who eould not he hiiidcrc(l from [lausing 
to ttdmire nature's beauties, even when 
llicy were making their first memorable 
march into Austria, in ISOG, must have 
lingered often by the way when ap- 
proaching the environs of Metz. The 
city, set down in front of a noble back- 
ground formed by hills tinged with brill- 
iant colors and crowned with thick 
forests, the great spires of tlie Cathedral 
hjoining high in air, and to the front 
the fertile plains, with the silver threads 
of the Moselle and Seille winding 
through them, make a iierfect picture. 
The heavy masonry, the castellated 
towers of the Porte des AUemauds, and 
the huge elbow of the ramparts, which 
projected into the IMosenthal, — the Mo- 
selle \'alley, — reminded every approach- 
ing \isitor that Metz ■was eminently a 



KUROPE IX STdS.U AXD CALM. 



309 



fortress town. West and uorth-west 
led away the two roads on which the 
terrible battles of the 14th, IGth, and IHth 
of August, 1870, were fought ; and near 
liy are the heights which were stormed 
at such dreadful cost. The villages in 
the vieinit\- are, with rare exceptions, 
miserably poor. The farmers give more 
attention to their fields tlian to their 
homes, and there is small evidence of 
culture of the grace of hospitality. 

Metz was the capital of Lorraine even 
as early as the time of C'lovis. the first 
of tiie French Idugs. It was later a free 
city, called Imperial. In the lltii cen- 
tury it was German, and remained so 
until 1048, when it liecame French by 
the Treaty of Westphalia. The fortress 
was begun in the 16th century, by the 
Chevalier de Ville, and constant improve- 
ments have been made since that time. 
The Germans are pounding away at it 
even now, and they have metamorphosed 
the names of streets and ramparts, forts 
and gateways, in the same manner as at 
Strasbourg. Vauban strengthened and 
enlarged the work. The model of the 
fortress was one of the treasures of a 
military museum at Paris, was taken 
by the allies in 181."), and is now pre- 
served in Berlin. The city stands on 
the right bank of the Moselle, at a point 
where the river is about two hundred 
paces wide. The Moselle and the Seille 
are crossed by seventeen bridges, few of 
which are architecturally fine. There 
are seven gates iu the walls, all im- 
mensely thick and strong. 

In 18GG France began hastily to in- 
crease the strength of Metz ; but tlie 
Germans must have smiled in their 
sleeves as they reflected that this pre- 
caution came too late. Germany made 
no distinct claim on Metz as niion Stras- 
bourg ; but the Germans recall with 
pride the fact that German arms are 



still to ije found on the chaiiel and in the 
Place Napoleon, as it was called at 
the time of the war. There are three 
islands in the river, — St. Symphorien, 
Sauley, and Cluunhiere. On the east, 
at some distance from the city, stands 
the great fort of Belle Croix, renamed 
by the Germans; and to the west the 
bridges were gnar(h'<l by Fort Moselle. 
Here also w^as an entrenched camp, ca- 
|)alile of containing many thousands (.)f 
men. Tlie outermost fort was [lerhaps 
a mile from tiie city proper, and the cir- 
cumference of the whole W(jrk was about 
six miles. Metz was most important a.s 
an arsenal town, having for many years 
contained the princi|>al stores of weapons 
in France. Its hospitals were also the 
finest outside Paris, and its manufacto- 
ries of cloths, woollen wa I'es, needles, etc. , 
are still celebrated in botii hemispheres. 

The trade between IMetz and all parts 
of Germany was always extremely brisk, 
and its interruption was not one of the 
lightest burdens of the wai-. Jlany of the 
old churches d:ite from the twelfth cen- 
tury. St. Stephen's catliedral is remarlc- 
able for the beauty of its stained-glass 
windows. At the outbreak of the war 
the town was undouhtedly French in 
spirit. The fairest German writers admit 
this. 

One morning JIarshal Uazaine, ser- 
vitor of the Empire and iMexican specu- 
lator, found tliat formid;d)le forces had 
liemmed him in on evi'r\' side, as the 
result of the five days' iigiits, the ter- 
rible encounters at Blars la-Tour, at 
Gravelotte, and Borny, of tJiose sangui- 
nary events which led to th(> catastrophe 
of Sedan. Bazaine and his men dis- 
covered that Metz was really invested ; 
that the enemy lay jicrdn all around 
tliem ; but no one could discover why 
Bazaine chose to remain besieged when 
he might, with a great army, have cast 



310 EUnoVE IX STOIIM AXI) r.lA.i/. 

his fortuiio upon tlic ndvcntuii' of a f;--\v |iii)viiici'. Tlir s(]|(licvs in front of iletz 

hours antl trie'i.! to cut his way out. 'riii.' renrcttcd tliis iiiovfuiint, and it is an 

Prussians liarriiMl him niiilit and <lay, open secret tlint there was much sullv'i- 

and wearied his liroken soldiery \'ery ness and even incipii'Ut mutiny for a 

badlv. Meantime (ieneral Steinmetz sh(_)rt time; hut it was soon forgotten 

liad been removed from the impurlant amidst stronger excitements, 

post which lie had iV>r some time held Prince Friederich Karl, now made com- 

iu tile Prussian army, Iiecause the veu- inanding-generalin front of Jletz, estali- 

erable King of Prussia had declared that lished his hea<l-quarters at Doneourt, to 

he would not always have blo<idshed the which point the •' Battle of the live 

only means of arriving at piositiou. The davs " had I'xtended ; and there, while 

dashing veteran general, a comiionnd of suffering from a tedious illness produced 

Blncher and Sheridan, had won great bv excessive lalxir, he carried on his be- 

praise by the raiiidity, not to say reck- sieging operations. Nearly a (juarter of 

lessness, of his movements in August, a million men were stationed round alxmt 

He had begun that chain of battles the foi'tress, and holding atbay, as it were, 

which resulted so favorably to the Prus- a well-provisioned, healthy, and reasou- 

sinii armies by crossing the Moselle and aiily resolute army of nearly two hun- 

advancing under the gates of iletz. But dred thousand men. Three marshals of 

it so hapiKuied that he had disobeyed the the French Empire were also imprisoned 

positive orders of his commander, — to in this living ring. From time to time 

pass over the Jloselle nil the south side in- rumors of brilliant attempts on the 

stead of the north. It was claiuied that part of these great marshals to cut their 

a great sacrifice of life in the Seventh and way through the Prussians reached the 

Eiglith German army coriis was due to this besieged residents of Paris. But the 

disobedience of orders, as, liy the move- ring was never cut. 

ment commanded, Steinmetz would have Bazaine gave [)lenty of advice to his 

avoided the French positions near Mos- men. lie was always a good talker, 

cow and St. Hubert, and the fiermans An ex-confederate, who had met him in 

v^■ould have had llie advantage of higher Mexico, once said to me of Bazaine : 

oiiiuikI than their enemies. It is als(j " C'cd nn vuusenr adoruble qnand il a 

argueil that Bazaine's return to IMetz on ih'u.r ivrres de Cognac dans le ventre." 

the morning uf the I'.lth of August would Ihit of re:d knowh-ilge he luid little; and 

have been impossible. So, although the his geographic:d acciiiireineuts were ridic- 

aged General Steinmetz won an almost uloiisly small. He told his men in Metz 

incredible victorv at lioniy, he was rep- how to get out of tlie position into which 

rimanded verv severely by thi' King, he sei^med to have forced them. He 

who seowlecl upon him as \Vashiiigt(in said, ■■You must be constantly on the 

did upon Lee at Monmouth. Steinmetz alert to hai-ass tlie enemy. He must 

received the n-lmke in grim silence, and have no icst. With a few biscuits and 

evidentlv did not appn'ciate it. Tlie a great many cartridges, yon must < reep 

King then ordered him to rep(.)rt to Prince ui)on him al all hours, and .shoot at him 

Frii'dericli Karl, which made him very from all positions. Offensive reconiuii- 

aiiicrv. and liis I'elations soon became so tring must be your strong point. This 

bad with that general that he was re- must be done by cohnmis. which can 

<'alh'il, and made GoveriKjr of a I'russian never get seriously injured. Very soon 



ELTllOPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



311 



you will know the enemy's positions. 
Yon will keep np your own good-lunnor 
by constant ndventnres ao-ainst liini, anil 
you will eventually lie aljle to get pro- 
visions, and even eannoii. You must 
never be long away from camii. Your 
pickets must lie on the qm'-viri'. You 
must live, eat, hope, and dream on a 
battle-field for, God knows, how many 
weeks and months yet." In conclusion 
he said, on one occasion, '' A most im- 
portant thing is to win as nnicii time as 
possilile, for here, as in England, time is 
money." 

In view of Piazaine's utter failure in 
Metz how suspicious does this twaddling 
advice sound ! It is not dillicult to lie- 
lieve the accusation so often brought 
against him after the fall of the Emjiire, 
that he was a traitor, and that he had 
deliberately made up liis mind to sacri- 
fice his army rather than to strike a 
blow which should profit the newly born 
Kepublic. 

Skirmishes and reconnaissances were 
frequent enough in front of the old town 
from Aug. 20 until late in Seirtember. 
A column of Argu.s-eyed Frenchmen, 
hard-headed old boys, wary as Indians, 
could any morning be seen filing out of 
the gate of the city, the watchful ser- 
geant at the head frowning if a man 
stei^ped on a twig. These little [larties 
would fall suddenly upon a German out- 
post, si)read an alarm along tlie line, 
hack, burn, plunder, and destroy, and 
sweep l)ack again under cover of the 
forts. Then would come a retaliatory 
charge of Uhlans ; but these generally 
left their bodies to repose in French soil, 
for there were, sharp-shooters every- 
where, and it was unsafe some mornings 
for the Germans even to go a few steps 
outside the place of their encannimeut. 
Death came on wings, antl lighted even 
into places apparently most secure. 



Men were found ilead in spots where it 
seemed as if no enemy and no enemy's 
bullet could have penetrated. The ven- 
detta of Metz began to have grave 
terrors for the bravest. 

The Germans had excellent facilities 
for observing the condition of the town, 
liut they could not forewarn ti'oops 
against these perpetual sorties. Up to 
the 30th of August it seemed to the 
French as if Bazaine were still making 
efforts to free himself from the inimical 
ring into which he had voluntarily re- 
tired; and, just liefore the surrender (jf 
Sedan, the army of Metz gave the be- 
sieging armies a severe shock, and, for 
a few hours, seemed certain of victory. 
This was the light in which a (ierman 
division was so severely cut up that a 
wail went out throughout all (]iermany. 
The losses on the German side were the 
most tremendous of the war. Extra 
efforts were at once made for the reduc- 
tion of the town after this little experi- 
ence. The Germans were very strongly 
entrenched, but now hastened to make 
their position stronger, and began to 
imitate the French plan of constant 
sorties. The Jloselle valley rang with 
the clash of arms. The Germans were 
sometimes sui'prised at breakfast, and 
mown down before they could wiulc. 
But this only luippcned when the out- 
posts were Ividuapped and cariled away 
wilhout noise. Little by liKK , however, 
the endeavors of Bazanie himself to 
jiromote sorties became less conspicuous ; 
but the imprisoned defenders rebelled 
against the policy of inaction, and so all 
round the vast hues the annoying rushes 
and the mysterious murders went on. 
On the east lay the German trooi)S which 
had been under Steinmetz's command, 
— the First and Seventh army corps ; on 
the south and west, the Guards, and the 
Second, Third, Fourth, Eighth, Ninth, 



312 RUROrE IN STOUM AXD CM.M. 

Tenth, and Elcvciitli armv iT)r|is ; the Musi'Ue, and all the olher dogs of war 
Saxon eorjis, tiie Twelfth, li'iiarded the liarked eonstantly. Sonietiines a fler- 
north. man soldier on yiieket dnty at the 
There was, sav the German aei'onnts entrances of a little \illage was l>lowii to 
of the siege, at this time, a heavy, moist i)ieees, and Utile was fonnd to signify 
odor of death in the air night and day. tiiat he had not deserted his ])ost save a 
It eame from the hastily luM'ied dead, gun, a heliiiet, or a glove. Patrols and 
The men threatened to mutiny on liotli iiiekets lieeamo so used to dodging 
sides after the battle of Rorny, liei'anse deatli that they invented niekuames for 
they were not alhiwed to \t\\Y\ the fast- the ex[)edients they were ol]liged to 
deeaying horses, whieh had been left i>nrsne. S<i the slow weeks passed, 
uncovered, and which were breeding .1 Then eanic the shar|) fighting at Mercy- 
plague. ]iut there was only time to Ic-IIaut, south-east of Metz ; and grad- 
throw a thin covering of earth over them, ually S<q)tember waned without results 
As for soldiers who were killed ;it ^Metz on either side. The I'russians found it 
during tlie siege, in most cases their dillieult to get enough toeal.and boih 
graves were dug but a foot deep, and, besiegers and besieged fell upon ea|itured 
in many iustauces, tin' feet and the liands knapsacks and shook out of them tlie 
■were left sticking out of the ground, jiieces of bread which they contained 
The market tendei's, as the sutlers are with the eagerness of starvation. But 
calleil in the (ierman army, oliserving flerniany began to send up provision- 
that the troops drank more while this trains full of love gifts. October 
horrible smell endured, used numerous arrived. Tln' besieging troo|is heard 
elforts to |irevent them from lnu'ying tbe that tlie King and the Crown I'riiice 
bodies, and even invented false alarms were in front of Paris. One or two 
to divert burial parties from their work, more disastrous collisions, — disastrous 
This statement was seriously made in to liotli sides, — ami the siege entered 
letters written to (Germany from the upon its luial |ihase, that of sullen en- 
camps of the liesiegers. A few sutlers durance of [irivatiou by the invader 
being shot, however, by order of the and tlie iinaded. 

commanders, this kind of enterprise was The (lermau soldiers, during their long 

checked. Dysentery came to rage in stay in fr<;iiit of JMetz, contented thein- 

the camp. Piiiici' I'licderich ICarl was selves with simple di\ersions. They 

struck down with the disease, and his carved on many a wooden cross, piously 

death was aiinoiniced many times, erected above the grave of fallen com- 

IVIeaiitime Sedan had l.iecome known to rades, the old German military legtaid : — - 
all the world save to the besieged, and 

it was not loiiii before the siui.^ter news ^'" *''''''" ■'"'''' '""" ""'■• 

, ^, 1 xi /-, ,• ,1 Ins Kiihle qiab Jiiiieiii , 

got tlirouyh tlie German lines, and de- „ .^ „ ,7'^ 

^ "^ JJas tst ^oldatt'i} iiiamer — 

termim'd IJazaine upon his sinful policy. V.-<iil sic all zcil Insii.j sein. 

The French forts kept up an aston- 
ishingly brisk fire, slaughtering a few Some inscriiiti(ins had a rough humor 
men e\ery d.ay at .-in immense cost of in them, reeoiuiting the exploits of 
shot and shell, wliieli jiistilie(l the old heroes in the same manner that an 
proverb that it takes a ton of iron to Indian chief might recite the number of 
kill a man. Forts Quelan, (^uentin, his slain. But these of course were only 



EUROPE ly sroR.u Axn calm. 



il3 



temporary ; no trace of them can be 
found to-day. 

Here is the meiin of a cook attached 
to the first company of tlie First Kiienisii 
Jiiger Battalion : — ■ 

Menu 17th Septemher to October 1st. 

At sunrise : 

Coffee witliout milk. Chassepoi bullets in 
the earth-work.s. 

At noon : 
Dessert iit'ter diniKT, — distant roaring of 
cannon from Fort Quentin. Grand concert, 
immediate neigliborliood hot. Beginning of 
symphony serves to hasten meals and .assist 
digestion. 

Evening : 
Black-bread for supper. Spectacle,— burning 
villages smoking to all corners of the heavens, 
and St. Quentin's guns shying shot at tlie em- 
bankments until midnight. 

Dancing : 
Towards the enemy's works through wood 
and meadow until daylight, when the murder of 
patrol parties begins as usual. 

The cann) literature was sometimes 
exceedingly good. There were seven 
German poets killed before Metz, and, 
in the batlles which preceded the actual 
siege, a gentleman who had made a fine 
translation of Longfellow's" Hiawatha" 
fell to rise no more. A Sanscrit scholar 
sent JKjme a report of an action in which 
he was engaged written in Sanscrit. 
In his regiment there were three others 
prolicii'nt in that tongue. Out of the 
German bodies of soldiery might any 
day have stepped one hundred accom- 
plished linguists, as out of the Massa- 
chusetts regiment during the Rebellion 
stepped at call a hundred men, each of 
whom could i-oustruct a locomotive. 

Some i:ither complaining Prussian 
pickets, one day having ex[iresscd dis- 



a|)[)ointment because much-needeil food 
had not come to hand, were taken by a 
number of their C(_>mrades to a neigh- 
lioring village, where the_y were infornu'd 
tliat provisions carried off from tlii> 
French were stored. The greedy and 
half-starved fellows rushed into a room 
wiiere they discovered nothing but huge 
piles of splinters of French shells. Of 
these they were coolly invited to partake ; 
anil thenceforward they coui[ilained no 
more. 

Within Metz they were not given to 
joking, but to serious endeavors to live. 
The locust armies were ra|)idly eating the 
citizens out of house and home. On the 
l;3tli of October, nearly ten days after 
Paris had done a similar thing, the com- 
mandant issued the following order con- 
cerning bread : — 

From Thursday, October Ifi, only one kind 
of bread will be baked — made from corn. 
This bread costs nine sons for two jiounds. 
Every baker will receive from this d.ay forward 
flour enough to supply the district which be 
serves. The daily portion for every inliabitant 
of the city is established at four hundred 
grammes for an adult, two hundred grammes 
for a child, and one hundred grammes for in- 
fants under four. A baker can furnish bread 
only to those who have a paper from the mayor ; 
and no one can receive more than the regular 
portions. 

This arrangement met with universal 
favor so long as the corn lasted ; but corn 
began gradually to give out ; and when 
Hazaine capitulated, there was neither 
breail nor salt to l)e f(jund in his whole 
army nor in the town. Expedients for 
food were of the most astonishing nature. 
INIen and women constantly came to the 
commandant with |)ropositions for the 
manufacture of articles miraculous in 
their sustaining power, and by wliirh the 
whole army and the honcu' of France 
could be saved. But the verv materials 



;5U 



EvnovE fx STOini axd calm. 



■with uliicli Id make tlicst' siilislaiici's 
were lackiiiii'. The horses that were 
killed had liecn themselves so loiii>; with- 
out l)roiiei- food and alteiitimi that the 
little llesli reiiKuniii'^- iiijuii their hones 
attbrtled small noiirishmeut. Early in 
October this horse-meat became the only 
flesh available. The faces of the men 
began to show their sufferings, anil the 
scurvy manifested itself here and there. 
The Germans were even move(l to tears 
by the exhibition of mingled pride and 
greed given i)y French prisoners occa- 
sionally brought into camp. Now it was 
a slight but wiry (7H/.s'.sr(;/-, who could not 
refrain from lilling the pockets of his 
l)aggv trousers with bread and salt, that 
he might luxuriate in these, to him, un- 
wonted blessings; and now a gigantic 
ruirdssier, who ate enough to have main- 
tained a squadron, Imt who proudly stated 
the fact tliat there was no hunger in 
Sletz. The French otlicers, who came 
as jKirli'iiiriitiiircs to arrange some truce 
for purposes necessary to lioth sides, 
always proudlj' refused any invitations 
to dinner. The great hospitals at Metz 
wereovercrowded with sick and wounded, 
and there was fear of pestilence in them. 
The Bridge of theDead, over the Moselle, 
jjad a new meaning in its name : so 
many sorrowful processions had gone out 
over it day liy day to bury their comrades 
in the fields Iteyoud. When the Eni- 
])eror Napoleon was leaving Meiz he 
shook his head as the driver asked him 
if he should go over the IJridge of tlie 
Dead, and told him to take the one next 
lielow it. By the river-side stood a little 
child as thelm[)erial '-{iiii'ije passed on its 
runaway course, and the voice of that 
child was thcfuily one in the town which 
crieil " V!ri- VEiHpcrciir ! ''' But the Km- 
|iei'or touched his hat with the same <lig- 
nity that he would have shown in saluting 
an immense crowd. 



(ii'rman soldiers had many ])rivations 
to undergo which were unknown t(^ the 
F'rench. The Lorraine peasantry were 
filled with the l)itterest hatred for their 
con()u<'i-ors, and many a picket lost his 
life through the [loisoniiig of the wells in 
his neighlxu'hood. So nuisketeers were 
posti'il at every well and lii'ook fi'om 
Saarbrucken to Metz, and all around the 
besieged city ; and wlu'iiever a peasant 
was found near a well he was made to 
drink from it, to prove that he had not 
been poisoning it. Notices were also 
posted announcing that if a jjcasaut be- 
longing to any village in the surrounding 
country was found to have attempted 
treachery against the troops, a number 
of the iidiabitants of that village would 
be shot. (_)n one occasion the Mayor of 
a little town was l)rouglit before a Ger- 
man oflicer, charged with having been 
seen to (uit Siiiuething into a well. lie 
was dragged to it and made to drink re- 
pcati'dly from it. As he approached if, 
he staggei'ed, and turned pale from excite- 
ment, not fi'om guilt. In an instant 
a hundred guns were levelled at his 
breast, and he would have lieeu shot to 
jiieees had he not recovered himself and 
been able to demonstrate that the well- 
water was still pure. The i)easants were 
in the habit of denying that the}' had 
grain or food of any kind when foraging 
parties visited them. After a time this 
enraged the Fiaissians, who l)urned the 
liouses of refractory farmers, and there- 
after everything was at their disposal, 
(ireat stores of grain were sometimes 
found hidden in the most ingenious 
maimer, and c<>nsideral)le suras of money 
buried m the earth by owners wlii> had 
fled away were bi'ought to light. But 
these wvw nev(.'r appropriatecl, the gen- 
eral orders of I'adi day making it the 
duly of eveiy soldier to re[)ort things 
found at lu'ad-(juarters. 



Fl^ROPE /y STORM AXD CAF.V. 



L«]5 



The burning of villages seems to have 
been ven' common ; and yet no good 
reason could lie assigned for it. Visiting 
Metz just after the siege one often came 
upon lilaekeued heaps of cinders running 
in two long jiarallel lines iu beautiful 
tields bordered by poplars. These sin- 
ister relics denoted the site of some 
hamlet which had met with the rude 
fortune of war. 

The majority of the frontier villages 
wei'e composed of low, one-story cottages, 
built ou each side of a long street. 
There was but little variety in the archi- 
tecture, and the public buildings were 
few and dingy. In ordinary times the 
notable figures of these little counuu- 
nities were the priest, the mayor, 
one of the gorgeous country police, a 
rich farmer or two, fat, churlish, and 
wearing huge blue blouses over their 
broad cloth coats and their capacious 
waistcoats. 

But on the avenues of these frontier 
towns, after the siege, there were no 
signs of country prosperity, nothing Ijut 
a few sentinels lazily strolling up and 
down, a spy being conveyed iu a cart to 
tlie i)lace of his trial, a few women 
brooding over the loss of husband or 
home, or a squadron of cavalry riding 



tlirough to inquire if anything could be 
had to eat. 

One dav, old General Changarnier, 
weak and tremljling with his age and 
fatigues, went to see Prince Friederich 
Karl at Donconrt. To this step — a 
most humiliating one — the condition of 
Bazaine and the Metz army had driven 
him. Bazaiue, generally reserved and 
frosty iu his manner, hailed C'hangar- 
nier's prop(jsilion with much delight. 
Such hnnnliations were mere prelimina- 
ries. The coumiauder of Metz was 
indeed full of gloomy forebodings, and 
since the declai-ation of the Republic had 
been confirmed he had not scrupled to 
say that the fortress was lost. He had 
seen the declaration of the Emperor's 
fall received with acclamations by many 
of his own men. Desertions began ; 
men stricken with fever, men wIkjsc 
scrawny limbs tremliled under them, and 
who loathed the sight of the UTiwholesonie 
food given them, went lioklly into the 
enemy's cam|i and asked for protection 
and provisions in exchange for their 
liberty and their arms. The German 
prisoners brought into Metz were accus- 
tomed to taunt the meu with stories 
about the well-fed prisoners and de- 
serters in the German lines. 



316 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



CH A PT KR Tin RT Y-TII R EE. 



The SurrninU'r of Mri/,. — The Suspicious Xnturc of liazaiiio's Noiri'tinlirms. — Tlio Envoy from tlic Fallen 
IiiipL-riali-^ts. ^ — Tlic AtVair of tlic Fiaji-s. ^ Tiie PrisiMier^ in Front of Mrtz, ami in Camps in tici'- 
maiiv. 



GENERAL CnANdARNIER found 
Fi'kMlcricli Karl siiUrii, nngrf, and 
not over-i>olito. To tell the truth, this 
warri(H''s t(iii|icr liadbfcn spoiled l.iy the 
fact that lie had been conipellet! to sta^', 
as it ucri'. on the oiitskirls of France, 
«hen lie wished to have been flying 
through the country, terrifying a new 
city t'very day, sleeping in the saddle, 
living on a crust for a week, maknig 
forced marches, etc. He adored hard- 
ships, but ho wished to confront them 
in the midst of stronger excitements than 
those of a siege. 

So lu- had but few words of comfort 
for, and asked many exactions fiom, 
Changarnier. The old general went 
back sick at heart, murmuring that the 
Prince had maltreated him. and said no 
more. He had given up the campaign. 

Just outside the range of the shells 
from Fort C^)uentin stood the bea.iitifiil 
rlit'iti III! of Fraseali, deserted by its owner 
a*^ an I'ariv stage of Ihe siege. The 
Pomeranians wei'e ]iosted there, and tlie 
wearv watcliers in ^letz nigiitly heard 
t'.ieni roar their northern songs. These 
same I'wmeranians were the rough-and- 
read\ tdlciws whu went post-haste across 
the c'Mnitry when their worli was done 
at .Metz to phmge into the southern eani- 
paign. The fluilfitn, surrounded liy one 
of till' finest parks In Frani'e. had long 
been the glory of the subui'lis of Metz, 
and to-d,av is one of the mi)st interesting 
of European caslies. for there tlie gri'at- 
est caiiitulation of modern limes was 



signed. There the man wlio hail shown 
such astonishing indecision that he was 
suspecteil even l)y his fellow-Imj)erialists, 
long before his policy had liecome plain, 
of wishing to deliver his army into the 
hands of the Germans, gave up his prison- 
ers, — sixty-seven regiments of infaii 
try, and thirteen battalions of chafiwurs, 
of which there were ten regiments of 
cun-assiers, one Guidon regiment, eleven 
of dragoons, two of lancers and three 
of hus.sars, six of chasseurs, three of 
Chasfteurs d'Afrique, and six gai'rison 
squadrons, as well as one hundred and 
fifteen field batteries r.nd seventeen bat- 
teries of the famous mUraUhmfn' , which 
wa.s, by the way, a complete failure in the 
fiekl. 'Jlie army of Bazaine bad originally 
two hundred and twenty-one battalions, 
the garrison of IMctz, consisting of eigh- 
teen battalions, and one hundred and 
sixty-two squadrons, the guard of the 
Grenadier regiments, three cavalry regi- 
ments, a guard of the lancers, a guard of 
rjidstipurs and the Cha.'i.fL'iirs iT Afrhine ; 
but some of these latter constituted the 
per.spnal guard of the Emperor, and had 
left Metz with him. They, with the Cent 
Gardes, were included in the Sedan capitu- 
lation. Bazaine had at lirst two hmulred 
and ten tlnmsand alile men ; but when tii-j 
time of caiiitulation came lie liad thirty- 
six thousand sick and wounded on his 
hands. 

Right glail were the German trooiis 
when they heard that surrender was cer- 
tain, for they had had enough of t:i; teni- 



EUJiOrE IN STORM AND CALM. 



317 



■pora living. A soldier, writing a day 
or two before Cliangariiii'r's attempt to 
treat with Prince Friedericli Karl, said, 
" We are seeing hard times, but exorcis- 
ing and dross are attended to just as if 
we were in a garrison. My quarters are 
in a hay-loft, where I have i)rovided for 
my comfort as best I can. For food 
we have biscuit and bacon only. My 
clothes-brush serves my company as boot, 
tooth, rifle, nail, and garment cleaner. 
Our handkerchiefs are used as coffee- 
straiuers, bandages, and neck-cloths al- 
ternately. Mantles serve as table-cloths, 
swords as beefsteak choppers, their hilts 
as coffee-mills and hard-tack breakers." 
The journals of the besieged town, 
printed on paper of all colors, — choco- 
late, gray, and brown, — had evidently 
given the inhabitants and the army but 
small hope. One and all spoke very dis- 
couragingly of the condition of the French 
provinces. They also announced, on the 
■25th of October, that the raw weather 
had caused the death of immense num- 
bers of horses, and that a great party 
among the inhabitants was German in 
demanding peace. "The only nourish- 
ment now in the town," s;idly recorded 
one paper, " is salt meat and fresh 
water." 

Old General Changarnier only went 
out on his mission to the Germans after 
urgent solicitation on the part of his 
comrades, and not until Bazaine had 
been urged to attempt an escape with a 
part of liis army in the direction of 
Gravolotte. " Even if you do not es- 
cape," urged the generals, " and if we 
are made prisoners, we shall save the 
garrison and the fortress by giving them 
a little more time." But Bazaine 
would not hear of this, and so old Gen- 
eral Changarnier went blindfolded to 
the Chiiteau Frascati. When he came 
back to Metz, after an interview of an 



hour and a lialf witli the Prussian com- 
mander, his aged frame trembled and 
tears streamed down his face. He said, 
"Gentlemen, we must fall, but with h(jnor. 
I hope that you and your brave soldiers 
may never experience sucii augiiisli as I 
liave felt." On his way liack', after ho 
was in the French lines, he saw some 
soldiers groping for potatoes in the 
fields, and stopped to tell them that the 
Germans were splendid antagonists, and 
that thej- must sliow their liost qualities 
against such an enemy. 

So, on the 27th Octol)er, Prince Fried- 
erich Karl came down to the Chateau 
Frascati to be near at hand for a con- 
sultation. A French division-general 
represented Bazaine, and General Von 
Stiehle, the Prussian army. Tiie articles 
were signed, after a severe struggle, about 
eleven o'clock at night. The King sent 
to request the French officers to retain 
their swoi ds. Food was at once sent for- 
ward to the town, and the Cierman soldiers 
hoiird much shouting, as of men begging 
and hustling about the provision carts, 
until early dawn. And so it came to 
pass, that in October Germany had as 
prisoners within her boundary oue hun- 
dred and forty-eight French generals, 
six thousand officers, and three hundred 
and twenty- three thousand men of rank 
and file ; while as yet France liad taken 
but two thousand one hundred Germans 
as prisoners of war. 

So it happened that, in the dullest of 
weather, with deatli in tlieir hearts, and 
with very little food in their stomachs, 
the Imperial Guards, which liad marched 
out of Paris scarcely tiiree montlis be- 
fore to the sound of inspiring music, on 
tlie lieginning of their triumphal march 
to Berlin, defiled through tlie great for- 
tress gate and past Prince Friedericli Karl 
and liis generals assembled. 

So it happened, that the dreary pro- 



318 



EUROPE /.V STORM AND CALM. 



cession began, one aimv. eonqnereil. ile- 
flliuir past another liut little laiger tban 
itself 

So it lia|)[>ene(l. that the marvellous 
German railway or<>ani/.ation came once 
more into play. All eivil trains on the 
lladen :in(l I'ahitiuale routes were sus- 
pendeil. and ten thousand Frenchmen, 
daily, were expressed into (iermany. 
•.vith the same lireeision and sl;ill willi 
which the Teutonic troops were sent u|)on 
to the French t'r(_>ntier a little while i.)re- 
■\ ious. The French marsluds, Ba/.aine. 
C aiu'obert, and Le Boeuf. wiae sent on to 
Cassel. to tell the story to their ca.ptive 
Kmi)eror: and the (-erman press of the 
day recorded, with a grim satire, tiiat in 
the Frencli marshals" train were twenty 
thousand poni!d>; of luggage. 

So it haiipened. tliat the Crown Prince 
and Prince Friederich Karl got to be 
marshals, r.nd \on Jloltke bceamo a 
count : tliat long trains of food from 
lingland. ticirn iiclgium. ficm the IJhine, 
were hurried tiirougli the battle-stricken 
country to relieve thr starving people 
in ]Metz ; tliat the Pomeranians toolc up 
their tremendous line of mareli to tlie 
south : that a llaming farewell order was 
issued liy the Geinian connnander to 
those \eteiaiis who did not go on fartlu-r 
into the campaign ; that the peasants 
stole out from waiocl and down from 
mountain to resume their work ; that the 
jiloughshares now and then probeil a 
grave so new that it was horrilik' ; that 
the dull battle stench for miles around 
gradually went away ; and that by night 
the liclds ecliord no lougcrto the scream- 
ing of shells and thr rattle of nuisketry 
lire, but to <-heei'v German soldier 
songs. 

JIany wouderftil military events in the 
history of France and Prussia have oe- 
eurred in this same sinister October. 
In 18uG, in Octoljcr, the victorious Em- 



peror, Nap(jleon the Great. stoi>d before 
tlie grave of Frederick, at Potsdam ; 
in October, 1812. was the Pattle of 
Leipsic ; October. bsiT), saw Napoleon 
I. at St. Helena: Octol)er, ].s;>0, s.aw 
Louis Napoleon's aftem|)t to proclaim 
liimself Emperor at Strasbf>urg ; Octo- 
ber, 1S41), saw him sentenced to impris- 
onment ; and October, 1871, brought 
the capitulation of jNIetz, and the coro- 
nation of King William of Prussia as 
Emperor of United Germany and Con- 
ciueror of France at Versailles. It was 
also in October, in that wild year l.")52, 
that Henry II. sent his army to seize 
Ujion Jletz, Troyes, anil \'ei'dun, while 
Charles V. was troubled with religious 
wars in Germany. V\> <'ame the fiery 
Emperor with a tremendous army at his 
back, when lie heard that the French 
were in the Trois-EveclK'-s ; and down 
he sat before IMetz and lieg.an liis opera- 
tions with a formidable park of cavalry 
for those days. But he went away in 
the winter of \'>f)?>, h'aving his tents 
behind him, convinced that he could not 
overcome the \alorof Francois tie Guise ; 
and so great was his anger and humilia- 
tion that he cried out: "I see, now, 
that Fortune is indeed a woman. She 
favors the young and disdains the old." 
Bazaine, and all the memliers of the 
Imperial Party, have insisted, ever since 
the trial of the milucky Marslial in 
1873, that he w;is the victim of circum- 
stances ; that the French. horr(.)r-stricken 
and humiliated by the crushing series of 
defeats which had come upon them, felt 
it necessary to ;issert that they were be- 
trayed, and hurled all the finy of their 
accnsation ui)on the soldier wIkj \\as in 
coiinnaiiil of the lieail-(iii;irters-general 
of the army. I''r<.'ncli pride w;is indeed 
nuire latterly hurt )iy tlie suriender of 
Metz than by any other event of the 
war. That the town around which so 



EUliOrE IN STORM AND CALM. 



il9 



many glorious remembrances clustered, 
anil which had been associated witli so 
many striking events in French liistory, 
could have been iianded over without a 
final valorous efi'ort for its relief seems 
incomin-ehen.sible, unless its commander 
were infiueuced by unworthy motives. 
It seems clear — reviewing with the. 
utmost im[)artiality the coui'se of Marshal 
Bazaine from the 12th of August, 1870, 
the day on which he toolv iuto his hands 
the chief commaud of the army of the 
Rhine, up to tlie evening of tlie 27th 
of October, when the capitulation was 
signed — that Bazaine did not do liis 
duty. Whether it was because he 
desired for a consideration to betray the 
immense army under his leadership to 
the Germans, or liopcd tliat tlic forces 
of the broken Frencli Empii'c niigiit rally, 
and that he might, by some clever com- 
bination, contribute to the wealiness of 
the Republic, and help to restore tlie 
Imperial throne, the world will [irobahly 
never know. His conduct, whatever 
might have beeu its motive, was pitia- 
ble. He might, l>y joining forces with 
MacMabon in the closing days of 
August, have prevented the disaster of 
Sedan ; and, in response to the pressing 
despatches which were sent him, urging 
him to be ready to aft'ect the junction, 
he responded only by puerile excuses. 
At one time he said that he could not 
move because of lacking amnumitiou ; 
and, on that very day, in curious ilkis- 
tration of tlie alisolute disorganization 
of the army, four millions of cartridges, 
the very existence of wiiich in the ar- 
senal had beeu ignored up to that time 
by the general commanding the place, 
were discovered. To all the appeals for 
the powerful aid which his well-disci- 
plined and vigorous army could lune 
given, his only answer was, that the army 
ought to remain under the walls of Metz, 



because it thus gave to France the time 
to oiganize resistance, and to the armies 
in course of formation time to be brought 
together. 

That he was unpatriotic and partisan 
seems clearlj' proven. On the 2od of 
September, a Prussian parlemeiUaire 
presented himself at the French picket 
line, bearing a letter from Friedeiich 
Karl for Marshal Bazaine. A little 
behind him was a man on foot, witli a 
white pocket-handerchiet' tied to the end 
of a stick. The Prussian purlementaii-e 
delivered his letter, and was about to 
ride away, when the French otHcer who 
had come out to meet him said, ■' Who is 
tliis man with you?" — ''He is not with 
me, and I do not know him," replied the 
Prussian officer, gall(.)ping off. The indi- 
vidual then declared that he had a uiih- 
sion for iSlarshal Bazaine, and wished 
to speak with him at once. So he was 
Ijrought into the lines. When he reached 
the town the French officer who was con- 
ducting him asked him whom he shoidd 
announce to the Marslial. "You uuiy 
say thai it is an envoy from Hastings," 
was the answer. It was at Hastings 
that the Empress Eugenie had taken 
refuge after her flight from Paris. 
Marshal Bazaine at once recei\cd this 
person, wliose name was Regniei', into 
his private ofllce ; and thei'e, acc(jrding 
to testimonj' furnished at the ti'ial of 
Bazaine, Regnier declared that he had 
come to propose either to Marshal Can- 
robert or to General Bourbaki to go to 
England to place themselves at the dis- 
position of the Regent, as the Eini)ress 
was then called. But the testimony 
clearly establishes that Regnier a|)peared 
to have brought to Mai'shal Bazaine a 
proposition that he shoidd sign a t)'eaty 
permitting the army of Mi'tz to retire 
into a neutral zone, and that he should 
be allowed to leave the fortress with 



320 EUiiOPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 

Uiilitiirv honors on condition of ni.i to coinnnniicatc with the fallen Em- 
further resistance to the (iernians chiiing' ]iress. 

tlic course of the war. j>azain<\ it is All tliis was certainly' enough to nialce 
true, resolutely declared at his trial, tliat llepulilican France believe that the eom- 
iieither he nor any of his conu'ades would niauder-in-eliief of the Army of the 
have consented to any conditions such lilline, who ought U) have fought his 
as those which w(_)uld have divided the way out of Met/, two months before, 
National Defense. Rcgnier, who was was nothing less than a traitor. When 
calh'd as a witness in the trial, took care General Changarnier was sent to treat 
to keep out of the way. It is variously with Prince Friederich Karl, he was 
supjiosed that he was an agent of \'on charged by I.azaine to demand the neu- 
Bismarek, or that lie was a real envoy ■ tralization of the Army of tlu' IJhine, 
from the Imperialist I'arty, whose aims and the territory that it occupied, and 
wei-e furthered by ]!isniarck, because that an armistice, during wliich an appeal 
wily diplomat saw that if Bazaine were was to be made to the deputies and to 
allowed to believe himself the arbiter the constituted jxiwers, un<ler virtue of 
of the defense of France he could be the constitution of May, 1870, for a 
duped in anv manner desirable. Regn- treaty of peace between the two antago- 
ier certniidy made a delinite offer to nists. There is also a line flavor of 
Canrobert .and to ISuurbaki to go to the Imperialism in the phrase in which 
Empress, and liourbaki accepted and Bazaine asks that he be allowed to fuHil 
went. On the 10th of Oetolier liazaine, a mission of order, meaning, of course, 
instead of cutting his way out of Metz that the obliging enemy should let him 
and going to help the regularly oonsfi- pass through its lines and go to i)ut 
tuted gdvei-nment of his country in its down tlie new Republic in Paris. 
resistance to invasion, sent (ieneral The affair of the flags at the time 
Boyi'r to Versailles, where that general of the surrender of Metz put the finish- 
entered into a long series of interviews ing touch to Bazaine's disastrous career, 
with Count Von Bismarck relativi' to the The Republicans stoutly claim that, had 
surrender of Metz. All that (Jeneral it not been for his stu|)id hesitation, and 
Boyer got out of Bismarck was tliat the for the multiplicity of his orders and 
conditions imposed for the raising of the counter-ordei's, all the flags of the gar- 
siege were that the fidelity of the ai'my rison would have been burned, and the 
of the Rhine fu the Emi)ress Eugenie French nation would have l)een spared 
should be fully alHrmed, that a mani- the shame of knowing that hundreds 
testation of this fidelity should be pub- of its lianners are exhibited in Berlin, 
licly made in ]Metz on the part of the As it was, many a valiant general and 
armv, and that even the signature of colonel, with that reckless defiance of 
the I'jinpres^ to the preliminaries of a military disciiiline which came with a 
treaty of peace shoulil be <.il)tained. disgust for Bazaine's course, burned the 
(rcneral Boyer returned to Metz with flags of their commands, or broke them 
these conditions, laid them bi'f(irc> a a.xl trampled them into the earth, and 
ciiuncil. in which Bazaine, (ienera! sent word to the connuander of the [jlace 
Eadmirault, iMarshal Le Boeuf. and to say that they had done so. Shortly 
many other im[>ortaut ollicers. tonk aftei- the capitulation of Metz a gentle- 
part, and then went over to England man resident in Germany wrote me as 



EUROPE m STORM AXD CALM. 



321 



follows: " Were it not for the presence 
of so many prisoners and the wonnded, 
Germany would have some difficulty in 
realizing that she is now carrying on a 
tremendous war hundreds of miles away 
in the centre of a formidable enemy's 
country ; for our streets are as thronged 
as ever, Inisiness is about in its normal 
condition, and the high schools and uni- 
versities are filled up witii youth, despite 
the many scholars, doctors, and profess- 
ors now on the battle-fields. A visit to 
the unbidden French guests and their 
eucampmcnts in the various cities tells 
us what the Germans are doing in France 
and have done. They sent in 1 ,000 juis- 
oners from Weissenburg ; G,000 from 
Woerth ; 2,500 from Spichereu ; 1,377 
from Saargemund and Ilagueuan ; 200 
from Vionville ; 3,000 from Gravelotte ; 
8,0o0 from Vitry ; 2,800 from Beau- 
mont; 84,4.'.0 from Sedan; 2,280 from 
Toul; l.'),000 from Strasbourg ; 5,000 
from before Paris, and 173,000 from 
Metz. Altogether this makes a grand 
total of about 330,000 men, including 
10,<»l)0 officers and 4 marshals. 

" Three hundred and thirty thousand ! 
This is nearly the whole of the grand 
army of the Rhine, with which Napoleon 
set out to conquer German}' and take 
possession of the Rhine pi'ovinces, and 
to sign the treaty of peace in Kamigs- 
burg or Berlin. It is not difficult to cx- 
phiiu why Germany made this immense 
number of jjrisoners. First, the Ger- 
mans themselves had special inducements 
to capture them alive, especially poor 
Turco, who iiad many a prize set upon 
his black head. Something in the fol- 
lowing style of telegram was received 
by Count Bismarck : ' One thousand 
good cigars foi- the first German soldiers 
who capture the first live Turco.' But 
the hearts of the French do not seem to 
have been in their work. A Frencli 



writer indeed cries out that these are not 
the soldiers of France, not the succes- 
sors of the men who followed Napoleon 
the Great, who never allowed themselves 
to be taken prisoners by wholesale, as do 
the present generation. This is true 
enough ; but the soldiers of the old Na- 
poleon, beaten as they were at last, had 
always something to fight for, and 
leaders whom they could always ti'ust ; 
while in 1870, from Weissenliurg to 
Sedan, the campaign on the French side 
was a mass of confusion, imbecilit}', and 
unskilfulness of the leaders, and fight- 
ing of the men without purpose to be 
achieved. Napoleon himself complains 
that his generals would not obey his 
commands ; while the prisoners here con- 
stantly repeat the reproach : ' We have 
been sold ; we have been sold.' 

" I have visited a number of the 
French camps in Germany, and arrive 
at the conclusion that these very prison- 
ers will be a great help to Germany 
when they return to their native land. 
Tiie French soldiers started for the 
Rhine, expecting to find, as the most 
ignorant had been told, a people some- 
thing akin to the Cossacks of the Don, 
or, as a French school-hook informs the 
youthful mind, savages upon the sand 
plains of Hanover. Pomerania was to 
them a wilderness. They knew nothing 
whatever of Germany except Prussia ; 
but they will return home with vastly dif- 
erent opinions of Germany and the Ger- 
mans, for they have been treated with a 
kindness as surprising as it was gener- 
ous. The first batch of one thousand 
coming in from Weissenburg was re- 
ceived with silence by vast crowds, and 
was the recipient of fixvors which cvea 
the German soldiers did not obtain. 
The greatest good feeling has lieen pro- 
duced between citizens and prisoners ; 
for, although excursion trains are run 



322 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALHr. 



every Suiidny to the Fi-oncli c.inip, the 
people who go only go to do good offices, 
and not merely to stare. The Gorman 
ladies have been somewhat censured for 
the great desire they manifest to 
give their Freucii an airing. The op- 
portunity to speak French with a native 
does not conic every day, and the fair 
beings may therefore be excused. Es- 
pecially among the wounded, where tlie 
French and Germans occui)ied the same 
rooms, the latter have at times a cause 
of complaint tliat German ladies should 
have preferred to notice the Frencii. In 
a Saxon hospital two good fellows de- 
termined, not k)ng ago, to take advantage 
of this curiosity on tlie part of their lady 
visitors, and as one of their number 
could speak French like a Frenchman, 
they dressed 'him up as a prisoner, and 
every one desiring to sec the French 
wounded was at once referred to him. 
One lad_v was so charmed by his story 
and his language that she not oul^' took 
his address, but made him a present of 
some money. No sooner had she disap- 
peared tlian loud laughter burst forth. 
The supposed Frenchman rose a stout 
Saxon, and the monej' thus won was dis- 
tributed among the comrades." 



This good-natured letter, in wliich the 
German feeling is fairl3- represented, 
unfortunately does not convey the entire 
trutii. There was great suffering, moral 
and physical, among the thousands of 
prisoners, csi)ccially after the cold 
weather set in, and many accounts pulj- 
lished shortly after tlie return of the 
prisoners indicate that, while the treat- 
ment by the civilians was uniformly kind 
and reasonalily courteous, the military- 
authorities were harsh and sometimes 
vindictive. The tent encampments, out- 
side fortresses like Magdeburg, Col)- 
loutz, Mainz, Stettin, Glogau, Erfurt, 
Posen, and AFescl, cacii containing from 
five to ten thousand prisoners, were tlie 
scene of mucli misery, and sometimes of 
the most tragic deaths. Iligli-spirited 
men, like General Ducrot and otliers, 
would not stand tlie long-iuflicted hu- 
miliation, and lioldly made their es- 
cajie. Ducrot was bitterly accused b}' 
the Germans of having violated his 
word of honor in thus escaping ; 
but he has sufficiently defended him- 
self against this charge iu his able 
work on the eaily part of the cam- 
paign. 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



323 



CHAPTER TIITRTY-FOUR. 



The Desperate Battles at Le Bouvget. — Remarkable Valor of the French. — Episodes of tlie Defense. — 
The Charge of the Marines. — Thiers and Bismarck. — The Insurrection of the 31st of October. — 
Brilliant Conduct of Jules Ferrv. 



THE Parisians, despite their numerous 
disa.sters, had lost none of their 
traditional gayetv of speech, and were 
able to say, when they heard that Gen- 
eral Aurclles de I'aludines had liad his 
army cut in two, — "That will ma!<e two 
armies instead of one, and makes us 
just so much tlie strong-er." But light 
and pleasant sayings do not always go 
with light hearts, and after the terrible 
affair of Le Bourget the resistance of 
Paris lost its hopeful character. M. 
Jules Favre says that it precipitated the 
iusuiTectioa of the 31st of October. 

The village of Le Bourget was a very 
important situation for an army invest- 
ing Paris ; and the Prussians had seized 
it and held it until the 28th of October, 
at which time tlie Francs-Tireurs of tlie 
press made a' descent upon it, and, sur- 
prising the Prussians in their sleep, took 
possession, making many prisoners and 
killing large numbers of the enemy. 
It was not at all to the taste of the 
Germans to see the batteries which they 
had established at Pont Iblon and ad- 
jacent places seriously menaced ; so, at 
ten o'clock on the morning of the French 
occupation, the Germans who had es- 
caped came back strongly reinforced, 
and made a tremendous attack. The 
Francs-Tireurs had their feeble forces 
strengthened by a few companies of 
Mobiles, and they made a defense of the 
position which they had so recently 
taken which may deservedly rank with 
that of Chttteauduu. The little baud of 



Frenchmen was subjected to a terrible 
artillery fire for more than five hours. 
Nearly every house in Le Bourget was 
riddled with shell ; but the troops held 
firm, and at nightfall the enemy had to 
retire. There were two severe attacks 
made tiiere tlie same evening, — one of 
them by the grenadiers of the Prussian 
Guard ; but this was repulsed, and, 
meantime a battalion of Mobiles, under 
the command of a vahant young officer 
named Baroche, arrived from St. Denis. 
All night the contending forces worked 
at strengthening their positions, and at 
dawn the battle began anew with great 
fury. 

Le Bom-get suffered a second bom- 
bardment, more than forty cannon 
throwing sliells for nine hours into the 
now half-wrecked houses, in which three 
thousand men were intrepidly defending 
themselves. It is said that on this day 
the Prussians threw two thousand shells 
into this one long street of Le Bourget. 
The Prussians were hindered from malt- 
ing an overpowering night attack by the 
electric light, thrown from the forts, 
which lit up the fields for miles around, 
and prevented the massing of troops at 
the proper points. 

On Sunday, the 30th of October, the 
Germans, about fifteen thousand strong, 
with forty-eight cannon, made a final at- 
tack. Fifteen batteries threw converg- 
ing fire upon the town ; and, in less than 
half an hour after the attack on Sunday 
morning, the sixteen hundred French- 



324 



E VI! OPE IX STORM A XT) CALM. 



men who n'lnuiiicil i)f tlio lirave di'feml- 
ers of Le Bourget li;i(l liml tlirown at 
tlieiii fifteen luindred shells. The two 
F'leuch ollieers Braaseiir and Ijaroelie 
appear to have ooiiducted themselves like 
veritable heroes. The fight on Sunday 
seemed to have awakened the pride f)f 
the Germans, who fancied that Xhcy had 
in front of them a large French force; 
anil the <^>ueen Elizabeth regiment of the 
I'nistiian (iuard came ni> at half-past 
eight in the morning, with its band 
playing, and its fiags flying, to carry the 
first barricade at the entrance of the vil- 
lage. The troops ran forward with their 
usual " Hurrah ! " but they were met liy a 
strong fusillade, so deadly, that, accord- 
ing to the testiuKJiiy of the Germans 
theuiiselves. nothing had been seen like 
it in the war. 

" As the Second battalion of the regi- 
ment came up." says a German writer, 
'• one of thc^ color-sergeants was shot 
down. A young f>llicer ran forward, 
seized the Hag, which was falling to the 
ground, and, as he raised it up, also fell 
mortally wounded. A. general then dis- 
mounted from his hoi-se, seized the flag, 
and, holding it high above his head, 
rushed forward in frontof his grenadiers. 
Two colonels of the regiments engaged 
in the charge were killed in the frijul 
rank of their troops. The general, 
however, who had seized the fl.ag, seemed 
to bear a charmed life." The hardy 
(Serman pioneers, with their axes and 
crowbars, worked away at a breach ; 
and in a short time the little French 
band t\)und itself taken between two 
fires. The town was not given up 
until, out of the sixteen hundred men, 
twelve hundred combatants were taken 
prisoners, slain, or wouuded. 

Mear the church in the interior of the 
village the otlicer Brasseur. already 
mentioned, held out to the last, sur- 



rounded by a lunidred of the bravest of 
tlio soldiers. On the right, the com- 
mandant Baroche, who had with him 
about sixtj' men, determined to die 
rather than surrender, and when he was 
struck down liy a shell he begged his 
soldiers, with his dying breath, to hold out 
lialf an liciur. " because, "he said, "help 
was certain to arrive in that time." 

The officer Brasseur, when the barri- 
cade which he had been defending was 
carried bj- a charge of several hundred 
of the enemy, shut himself, with seven 
other officers and about twenty soldiers, 
into the church, and kejit up a vigorous 
fire from the windows initil his little band 
was literallj' crushed. When he was 
driven into a corner, and forced to give 
up his sword, he wept like a child. The 
Prussian officer who toolc the weaiiou was 
deeply aifected, and could not refrain 
from strongly complimenting him on his 
l)ersonal courage. The Prince of Wur- 
tenibnrg the next day sent l^ack the 
sword with his personal compliments. 
That the Prince was deeiily impressed by 
this heroic defense is shown by his proc- 
lamation, issued from the head-(|uarters 
at Gonesse, on the 30th, in which he 
speaks of Le Bourget having lieen de- 
feni-led by the l)cst troops in the Paris 
garrison against the Second division of 
tlie Infantry cori)s, with certain special 
troojis which had been joined to it. 

This fight cost the Germans a large 
nunilier of their best officers and more 
than three thousand soldiers. What 
might not such troops as the defenders 
of Le Bourget liave done had they been 
pro|)erly commanded, and had the gen- 
erals inside Paris known how to utilize 
the three hundreil or three hundred and 
fifty thousand men who remained useless 
inside the rami)arts the greater portion 
of the period of the siege ? 

There was another and almost as san- 



EUROrE IX STORM AND CALM. 



325 



gninaiy eucountor betweou the liesiegers 
and the beseiged at this same Le 
Bourgct towards the close of Dcceml)er, 
in which occurred tlie celeliratctl charge 
by a l)attahou of marines supported by 
a detaclnuent of troops of tlie Frencli 
line under the orders of a noted naval 
captain. This charge of the marines, 
with their revolvers and hatchets in 
hand, upon the German troops who had 
taken up position in the cemeterj' of 
Le Boui'get, has become legendary in 
France, and has been chosen by many of 
the military painters as a fitting subject 
for the illustration of the French valor 
which proved of so little avail. 

This second attack was crowned with 
only partial success ; and the marines, 
who had at first been so successful, were 
badly cut to pieces before they came out 
of the affair. This battle at Le Rourget 
Ti'as part of .a general scheme for an 
attack upon Montrctout, Buzenval, and 
other important positions, where, how- 
ever, the German line proved always too 
sti'ong to be broken through. 

^Vilile these heroic eff'orts for the de- 
liverance of Paris were in progress, during 
the last days of October, the venerable 
M. Thiers had been doing some vigor- 
ous work in behalf of unhappy France, 
and comforting the Government of Na- 
tional Defense with the assurance that 
the four great neutral powers, England. 
Russia, Austria, and Italy, were willing 
to propose to the belligerents an armis- 
tice, with a view to the convocation of a 
French national assembly ; also, that this 
armistice would have for its conditions 
the revictualling of Paris and the un- 
trammelled election of the country's rep- 
resentatives. M. Thiers was full of 
energy and hope. He sacrificed himself 
to the interests of the moment, pocket- 
ing his pride, and was willing to go 
hither and yon to meet Bismarck or any 



one else if he could do his country ser- 
vice. The news of the capitulation of 
Metz almost eruslied the little man fen- 
the time being ; but he concealed his 
anxiety. 

On his return from Tours, where he 
had been aiding Gambetta in the organi- 
zation of the defense in the south, he 
was obliged to pass thrc)ugh Versailles, 
and to make a call upon Count Bismarck-, 
to whose desire to appear in the eyes of 
Europe perfectly fair he owed his safe 
conduct through the Prussian lines. Few 
interviews between celebrated men have 
ever been stranger than this one be- 
tw-een tlie ambitious Prussian Chancellor 
and the accomplished French statesman, 
under these trying circumstances, which 
required all their self-control and 
politeness. When Bismarck received 
Thiers he at once said, •• I know that 
we have no right to talk business, and I 
shall scrupulously refrain from any 
mention of it." The two gentlemen, 
therefore, entered upon a general con- 
versation, which was brief, and which 
must have exhausted all their artifices. 
M. Thiers was escorted to the Bridge of 
Sevres, and was allowed free passage to 
the lines of his friends. 

That the formidable insurrection of 
the 31st of October was nipped in the 
bud was due largely to the energetic 
conduct of one man, w-ho has since 
become very prominent in French affairs, 
— M. Jules Ferry. When the Hdtel do 
Ville was invaded liythe immense crowds 
who were disloyal to the (.xoverrnnent of 
National Defense, M. Ferr^y was t\w. 
first to assume an attitude of bold resist- 
ance, and he maintained it until all the 
troubles were over. The insnirection 
began as insurrections in Paris have 
begun since time immemorial, — by the 
invasion of the hall in which the regu- 
larly constituted authorities were delib- 



32C> 



EUROT'E IX STOli.V AXD CALM. 



cratint;. !M. .lulos Favre lias givou us 
a striking picture of this invasion of tlie 
Council lioiMU, where he was seated with 
General Trochu, Isl. Gamier Pages, ]M. 
Jules JSinion, and Ernest Picard. The 
fiery Flourens and Millic^re, afterwards 
so conspicuous in the Connnune, were at 
tlie head of tlie National Guards, tlie 
grim workmen, the volunteers in all 
kinds of fantastic uniforms, who rushed 
into the room uttering savage cries, and 
wlio would have been willing to stain 
their hands in the blood of the men who 
liad been doing their best to serve them. 
Flourens considered the insurrection as 
successful, and harangued the citizens, 
savinu' that they had overturned the 
goveruiuent which had l)etrayed them. 
He at once nomiuatccl himself, ^Milliere, 
Delescluze, liochefort, IManqui, and 
others, instead of those whom he prc- 
tendetl t(j overthrow ; and his foUowi'rs 
sanctioned liy shouts whatever he said. 
•• During this liurlesipie scene," says 
Jules Favre, •■ we did not budge from 
our seats. General Trochu took off his 
epaulettes, and passed them to one of 
his officers who was near him ; " and he 
told M. Favre afterwards, that he had 
done this so as to put the insignia of his 
military authority beyond the reach of 
an affront. lie quietly lit a cigarette, 
and waite<l the movements of the rioters. 
The story is too long to give in detail 
here. Enough to say that the Government 
of National Defense narrowly escai)ed 
complete annihilation on this unfortunate 
dav. The Connnuni' was already stai'ting 
from its concealment, and was ad.mir- 
ably organized with a view to replacing 
instantly, and with as little collision as 
possible, the government which alone had 
the right to call itself national. The 
members of the Committee of National 
])efeiise were }>ris(niers in the hands of 
these insurrectionists for several hours. 



Jules Simon was violently maltreated by 
the Communists. Delescluze, destined 
afterwards to die upon a barricade in the 
Commune, openly expressed his contempt 
and disdain for Jules Favre. The volun- 
teers of the National Guards from Belle- 
ville, infuriated with drink and with their 
ephemei'al victory, rei)eatedly hinted at 
the massacre of their prisoners. Flou- 
rens was, from time to time, obliged to 
appeal to his folhnvcrs not to give the 
w<n'ld the spectacle of a fratricidal en- 
counter. " Let us avoid the shedding 
of blood." he said ; "Imt let us carry our 
point." 

Jules Favre was twice in imminent 
danger of death. A dozen muskets were 
levelled at his head. " It was," he says, 
" a solemn but imposing moment, and I 
still ask myself how it was that no one 
of these men, most of whom were com- 
pletely inbjxicated, did not press the trig- 
ger of his gun." 

The government was liberated from 
its disagreeable and rather humiliating 
l)osition the same night t)y the energetic 
action of a little body of National Guards, 
Irit'udly to the national cause. The 
leaders of the insurrection retired once 
more into the shade, muttering ven- 
geance dire upon those who had dared 
to interfere with them. Jules Ferry had 
been at the head of the column which 
forced the g.ates of the H6tel de Ville, and 
flnall3- compelled the rioters to retire. For 
a few minutes it looked as if he would 
pay with his life for his audacity ; but 
his personal magnetism w.as so strong 
anil his language was so energetic that 
they dared not harm him, and he carried 
his point against them. In January of 
1871 he was a prominent figure in the 
second resistance against a body of 
insurgents, who came after the disastrous 
light at Montretout to attack the Hotel 
de Ville. 



EUROTE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



527 



November came in gloomy and full of 
menaces of war. The little hand of 
members of the Government of National 
Defense foimd that the attempt upon its 
anthoritj' had streiigtliened its hold npon 
the affections of all truly patriotic citi- 
zens, and, appealing to the population 
for supiK)rt, it received a A-ote of confi- 
dence which was highly gratifying. For 
the time being the government contented 
itself with removing from their military 
positions Flourens and all the others 
who had held important places in the 
insurrection ; and about this time Roche- 
fort, who was gradualh' becoming iden- 
tified with the Radical Party and with 
the cause of the Communists, which he 
afterwards vainly disavowed, resigned 
his position as a member of the govern- 
ment. M. Thiers had not been able to 
give his advice to the governing powers 
during the diffleult days through which 
tlicy had just passed, for ho had re- 
turned at once to Versailles, anxious to 
conclude an armistice. This time he 
was enabled to talk business with Count 
Von Bismarck ; and he has left on record 
a singularly liright and sparkling account 
of the manner in which he urged his 
claims, and the claims of his beloved 
capital, upon the accomplished represent- 
ative of the conquering party. He re- 
mained three or four days at Versailles, 
meeting the Chancellor very frequently, 
and fancied that he was about to cai-ry 
liis point, when, on the evening of the 3d 
of November, he asked Count Vou Bis- 
marck what guarantees he was likely to 
ask during the suspension of hostilities. 
Bismarck made the same answer that he 
had made to Jules Favre at Ferrieres, 
that he shoulil require a military [losition 
in front of Paris. '-One fort," ho added ; 
" perhaps more than one." 

" I immediately iutorrui)tod the Chan- 
cellor," savs M. Thiers. '• You are 



asking for Paris," I said to him : "you 
refuse to revictual the capital during the 
armistice, thus taking a month of our 
resistance away from us. To exact 
from us one or more of our forts is 
nothing less than demanding our ram- 
parts. You want us, in short, to give 
you the means of starving us out or 
bombarding us. In treating with us for 
an armistice you could hardly suppose 
that the capital condition would bo to 
abandon Paris to 30U, — ^ Paris, which 
is our supreme force, our great hope, 
and for you so great a ditfieult^- that 
after fifty days of siege you have not yet 
taken it." 

'• When we got to this ixjint," says 
M. Thiers, ''we could go no further. 
Whereupon Count Von Bismarck de- 
clared that if the French government 
wished to hold elections without an ar- 
mistice, he would offer no hindrance to 
a free election of reprosontatives in all 
the sections occuiiied by the Prussian 
armies, and would facilitate communica- 
tion between Paris and Tours for every- 
thing exce])t military despatches." 

There is little doubt that after this 
stern refusal on the part of the Germans 
to interrupt the course (if tlie war JM. 
Thiers gave up all hope of a successful 
resistance. He liad done his duty, 
and accoraplisliod what no other man 
in France could have done. He had 
pleaded the cause of Paris at the courts 
of Fngland, Russia, Austria, and Italj', 
making light, even at his advanced age, 
of the great physical and intellectual 
strain to which he was subjected during 
journeys doubly wearisome liecauso of 
the suspense concerning affairs at home 
which hung perpetually about his heart. 
He, more clearly than auy one else, saw 
that the war was to bo to its very close a 
fatal one for Franco ; but, gallantly keep- 
ing his doubts and despairs to himself, he 



328 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



''^ rc'tunipd fi'om Versailles to Tours, and 
placed liiinsell' at the dis|i(jsal of the 
delegates tiiere. 

It was no light work which Gamlietta 
had iiiiderLakeii in the Smith. AVhen he 
arrivecl at Tours half the important 
fortresses in the country had capitulateil. 
and the others — Paris, Phalsl)onrg. !Me- 
zii'^re.s, Tliionville. Bitelie. Montniedy, 
and Verdun — were surrounded liy lines 
of injn and steel, and their condition 
was almost hopeless. Gambetta seemed 
t/> liriag men and muskets and cannon 
out of the very earth. With his powerful 
and seductive eloquence he won the 
hearts of the enthusiastic southern poi)u- 
lations. He created a commission of 
armament, which, in three months, de- 
livered into the hands of men who un- 
fortunately did not know how to use 
them, one million two Innidred tJK^usand 
guns. From Nantt-s. fi-uni St. ICtienne, 



from C'reuzot, he lironght cannon ; at 
Angouleme millions of cartridges were 
made. He even thought at one time of 
sending cartridges into Paris by balloon. 
With all these interests of the nation in 
his hands, and being himself virtually 
dictator of all France outside of Paris 
for months, his fidelity to his trust was 
so complete and [jerfect that, when later 
in his political career the slanderous 
accusation was lironght against him 
of having pirolited by the manufacture 
of arms for the country's defenders, 
the whole French nation, with the ex- 
ception of his few slanderers, rose in 
revolt against such an injury ; and he 
proved beyond the shadow of doubt 
that not only ha<l he not received the 
millions falsely' attrilmted to him, but 
that he had not protitcd by as much as a 
single .so» in any of his pulilic laliors in 
his countrv's behalf. 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



329 



CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE. 

Life at Ilcad-quarters. — The Taraclcs on the Place d' Amies. — Von Moltkc in Versailles. — Kino; Will- 
iam's Daily Labors. —Bismarck's Habits. — The General Staff. — The Hotel des Reservoirs. — A 
Journey around Besieged Paris. — The Story of Jlout Valerien. — Maisons I.affitte in War Time. 
— Gettinjr Under Fire. — The French and German Pickets. — In the Foremost Investment Lines. — 
Jlontmorency. — Tlie Fijrht near Enyhieu. — Saint Gratieu. — The Day Before Champigny. 



THE Germans act as though they had 
come to stay hero forever," said a 
nervous French friend of mine, in a comic 
mood, as we walketl through the splendid 
courtyard of the great pahxco of Ver- 
siiilles one morning late in Novemlier. 
wlien the contesting parties Just otitside 
tlie historic town were in their sternest 
mood, and when tlie Germans were 
bringing uj) their "final arguments," — 
hundreds of cannon, which had been 
packed in neighboring villages, waiting 
what the Chancellor, with his brutal satire, 
called " the psychological moment." 

Indeed, the royal head-quarters was 
but little disturbed by the battles near by 
save on one or two occasions, when vic- 
tories seeme<i at last to aliglit ujiou the 
French standards, at the time of the 
great sortie which culminated in the 
sanguinary encounter at Cliainiiigny. 
French Versailles had taken on the sul- 
len aspect of a conquered place, where 
politeness was only accorded becanse it 
was lired in the flesh, and commerce 
fostered because the invader insisted 
upon it. lint there was a German Ver- 
sailles, life in which went on regularly, 
cheerfully, and in rather picturesque 
fashion. 

The first event of the day was uivari- 
ably a military parade upon the Place 
d'Armes, and this was conducted with 
as much care and precision as if it had 
been in some garrison town in the inte- 



rior of Germany. The regiments pa- 
raded were those freshly arrived in the 
campaign. The inspection was merci- 
less, fault-finding w.as frequent, punish- 
ment severe. After tlie parade came 
concerts b}' the splendid bands of the 
crack regimentB, and around these bands, 
in the great avenues, gathered hundreds 
of elegantly uniformed olHcers, soldiers 
of all arms of the service ; but rarely 
did a P'lench gentleman or lady pause to 
listen to the music or to gaze upon the 
enemy. 

By the time the concerts were over, 
dusk had drawn its curtains round the 
town, and all the shops closed ; the rafis 
remained open, but hotels barred their 
doors at nine o'clock, -when the patrols 
began to move through the streets. The 
great dtdteau, with its noble entrance- 
way guarded by the sculptured figures of 
the military heroes of France, was vis- 
ited daily by hundreds of soldiers on 
leave, and by the motley army fol- 
lowers, huge wagoners and serving-men, 
all of them anxious to increase their 
stock of knowledge of French iiistory. 
Now and then the King drove to the 
palace to see the wounded soldiers placed 
in the airiest and lightest of the halls. 
The superl) park, with all its appurte- 
nances of Trianon, chiilet, and foun- 
tains, was deserted save at early morn- 
ing, when troops of horsemen clattered 
through the long alleys, or save when at 



330 



EVJiOPE JX STOSM AXT> CALM. 



dawn .1, silent procession f)f soldiers, es- 
corting one of their comrades sentenced 
to execution, -n-ent out to a sinister hol- 
low Ix'hind n hediie, where they pro- 
ceeded to take the life wliich the com- 
rade had forfeited. 

Von INIoltke sometimes promenaclei] in 
the park at seven in the morning, stern 
and passionless, with liis arms hanging 
motionU^ss at his sides, and, although in 
piimly arranged luiiform, and with his 
sword clattering at his side, he looked 
more like a schoijluuister or a country 
clergyman than like a great general. 
'J'he Yersaillais soon learned his luiliits, 
and now and then, actuated Ijy some 
uuaccountalile impulse, — -perhaps admi- 
ration for his very sternness and modesty, 
— they saluted him as he passed! lie 
was never attended by an escort of any 
kind. AVhen the bands were playing 
in the avenue of St. Cloud, he often 
walked slowly tln'ough the throngs of 
oOicers, raising his Iiand to his cap 
abstractedly when he was saluted. 
There was notliing to be read in his 
face. It testified neither to joy or fear, 
to anxiety or to deep thought. He 
never seemed to see any one : his gaze 
was introspective, and his walk [ilan- 
tigrade, like that of one ascending a 
steep hill. 

The plainness wilii which most of the 
Prussi.'in royal personages dressed during 
liie campaign divested them of the bril- 
liant halo usual'y surroiniding persons 
of rank. 'I'he King ai)i>oared (piitc as 
simple as one of the soldiers of his 
household, if he happened to be placed 
beside him. Ee<l and black were the 
predominating colors. There were few 
regiments in which a dozen different 
hues were so mingled as to produce 
the dazzling sheen which makes some 
armies so attractive. 

The Crown Prince, mounted on a flue 



horse, with fine groom behind him, rode 
through the town almost cverj- morning, 
as simply dressed as any of his otHcers. 
The distinctions between prince and 
commander were so slight that a careless 
observer would not iiave noticed them. 
King Williau) was rarely accompanied in 
his public promenades, in carriages, or 
on horseback, l)y any one save servants 
at a res[)ectful distance. He had an 
inmiense round of daily labor, difllcnlt 
to support, considering his advanced 
age. The royal courier left the Pre- 
fecture of ^'ersailles, where the King re- 
sided, every day for Berlin, with special 
despatches, letters, etc., and tlie royal 
mail left Lagny every morning at five 
o'clock. The King ma}- be said to have 
passed liis time in writing and dictating 
letters for those mails, interspersing his 
toil with brief outings in the town and 
an occasional dash over into th(> invest- 
ment lines to see how a liattle was going. 

The Crown I'rince rested in a measure 
from his labors at Versailles, although 
scarcely a day passed that he was not 
called upon to give judgment upon some 
important crisis in the cami)aign ; Ijut 
even ho was subject to tlie orders of 
Von ]\Ioltk-e. 

Count Von liismarek kejit himself 
very close for a long time after his ar- 
rival at Versailles, and numerous tales 
were told of his eccentric habits, how 
he did but little work by day, ])ut, lying 
in his bed at night, sni-rounded with 
candles stuck in the necks of empty 
champagne bottles, wrote, dictated, and 
planned, smoking furiously, and drinking 
extraordinary mixtures of champagne 
and beer. •' Wlieu he has finished a 
l)ottle of champagne," said one intorm- 
ant. who connnunicated the statement 
to me as if it were of the greatest im- 
portance, " he lights a fresh candle, and 
sticks it in the bottle ; and so when 



EUROrE l.Y STORM AXD CALM. 



331 



morning comes he is suiTOiindod with 
lights, as if he were ilhiniinating in his 
own honor." 

When Bismarck appeared in pnl>lic 
more frequentlj' in December, it was 
observed that he had grown old with 
startling rapidity. He looked ten 3-ears 
older than when he had left Berlin a few 
mouths before. The head-qnarters of the 
general staff was in the Rne Nenve. It 
was a tranquil, mysterious-looking house, 
where even the sentinels seemed to walk 
with muffled tread, and wliere no noise 
was ever heard. There were elaliorated 
all the great projects of tlie siege ; there 
the -whole network surrounding Paris 
was daily studied with grave caution ; 
there Oberst-Lieut. Von Verdy re- 
ceived the journalists, and dulled their 
eagerness for news with non-committal 
replies ; there Von Podbielski elaborated 
tlie despatches in which he had little to 
announce but continuous victory. 

The old and far-famed Hfttel des Res- 
ervoirs, the Cafe de Neptune, and the 
cafis in the neighborhood of the Place 
Hoche were favorite resorts for princes 
and grandees, who came and went, :ind 
was the centre for newsgatherers, diplo- 
matic agents, etc. At the Reservoirs, 
towards noon, there was generally a 
brilliant assemblage. Dukes, princes, 
and princelings without number came to 
l)reakfastin the noted restaurant. Smart 
carriages rattled along the stone-paved 
way leading into the courtyard. A row 
of bareheaded, primly dressed serving- 
men stood ready to receive their particu- 
lar " Excellencies," and couriers ready 
to vault into the saddle waited important 
orders which were given over Ijreakfast 
plates. Tn the cafh there were ahvays 
dozens of officers on leave who had come 
to see the palace, the park, and to drink 
unlimited coffee and cognac to the as- 
tonishment of the sober Frenchmen. 



Comparatively few of tlie wounded 
were sent into Versailles after it liccanie 
the royal head-quarters. Ambulances 
and ambulance men were almost num- 
berless. Ladies and gentlemen of all 
nations and professions had devoted 
themselves to the eharital)le worlc of 
caring for the wounded ; and tliose sol- 
diers who were fortunate enough to be 




VON MOLTKE. 

sent to the Palace for trea.tiiient had but 
one thing to complain of — tlie multi- 
l>licity of the attentions shown them. 
The Hotel des Reservtjirs was a sanitary 
station. American, English, and Bel- 
gian i)hysiciaus did good service in and 
around "N^ersailles from the beginning to 
the end of the siege. 

To the right and left of the Place 
d'Armes, adjoining the chdteau, are the 
greatcavalry quarters, inunense barracks, 
built in a semi-circle ; and these afforded 



332 



KrnorE av stor.ii and calm. 



CTood fifpommodntion to the invaders. In 
front of these, of a line afternoon, five 
or six Innuired spirited liorses miglit 
lie seen out fur exereis", tlie oflieers' ser- 
vants, generally qnite as good cavaliers 
as their masters, putting the splendid 
lieasts tlirongli all iiuniner of equine 
gymnasti<'s. I^'ery morning the avenues 
were bloeked for an hour l)y the long 
provision trains arriving from the rear. 
The teamsters of these trains i)rovoked 
much laughter even among the saddened 
citizens of Versailles. They were ragged 
and sauey. and seemed to have been 
ehosen from the oddest of odd German 
types. 

We made frequent journeys around 
Paris during the siege : but some ac- 
count of that one which I lirstraade, after 
the investment was declared complete, 
will serve to give a few pictiu'es of the 
besiegers. I lelt Versailles with two 
companions ona morning for Montmo- 
rency, which lay directly in the foremost 
line of investment, and in an advanta- 
geous position for an outlook on Paris. 
The weather was beautifully clear, al- 
thougli we were at the end of Novemlier, 
and with glasses we could discern the 
French at work on Moat Valerien, and 
saw tluMn (jccasionally tiring a heavy gun 
in the direction of St. Cloud. Between 
Versailles and Saint Germain we found 
the Westphalian cori)S stati(jned, and 
were struck with the wonderful solidity 
and strength of the men. At that point 
even, and at that period of the siege, the 
French would have found it unpossilile 
to break through. 

After a hasty lireakfast, we took the 
road through the forest towards Maisons 
LaHitte. There we were toUl that the 
French had succeeded in establishing 
daily comnuniieation between Paris and 
Saint Germain, and had had a mail ser- 
vice in operation for some weeks ; but it 



had now been found out, and the go-be- 
tweens were shortly to be execntiMl. 
From Saint Germain, the fine Landwehrs- 
men of the Royal Guard had just de- 
parted, leaving behind them praises, even 
in the mouths of their enemies, for their 
excellent conduct. At the limits of Saint 
Germain we found the Fourth army 
corps, commandi'd liy General Von Al- 
vensleben, who had his head-quarters es- 
tablished at Soissy. 

On the way over the hill, leading into 
Saint Germain, one of my companions 
told me, in sprightly fashion, the story of 
;Mont Viderien. '' In the fifteenth cen- 
tury," said he, •' when the Prussians 
were still savages on the Brandenburg 
sands, the height on which Valerien 
stan<ls wa.s the Mecca for thousanils of 
(lions iiilgrims. The hill was called Cal- 
vary, and on it were erected three crosses, 
whose gloom V outlines recalled the pain- 
ful death of our Saviour and his compan- 
ions. The superstitious peasantry of the 
ueighliorhood firmly lielieved that if they 
di<l not make tlieir early pilgrimage to this 
Valerien Calvary they would be cursed 
with ill-luck. In the seventeenth cen- 
tury the church of Sainte-Croix was 
built on the hill-top, to eonunemorate the 
])ilgrimagesof previous times, ami a con- 
vent was soon added. Of this convent 
Richelieu liecame the director ; but in 
the seventeentii centin-y, the priests sold 
the i>roperty to the Jacobins, and the 
controlling bishoiis of Notre Dame re- 
fused to ratify the bargain. Out of 
this dispute grew a veritalile battle, in 
which all till' peasants of the vicinity 
joined. 'I'iie convent was stormed, and 
the Jacobins remained masters. The 
pro|ierty was finally restored to its orig- 
inal owners by parliamentary decree. 
Jean-Jacques Rousseau loved to wander 
on the hill for hours together, and once 
said to a friend w^ho was with him when 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



333 



he came suddeiilv uiioii a chapel in which 
some peasants were praying : ' Now I 
understand for the first time what tiie 
Gospel says, — " Where two or tiivcc 
are gathered together in my name, there 
am I in the midst of them." ' The con- 
vent 1)inldinu;s existed long after the 
order for their suppression had heen 
passed hy the National Assembly. Na- 
poleon I. imagined that a nest of con- 
spirators was concealed there, and 
demolished the convent to substitute 
barracks, nearly completed when IS 14 
arrived, and the building site fell again 
into the hands of the C'atholiOs. Under 
the Restoration the three crosses were 
raised anew by the church, and the con- 
vents were rebuilt. But in 1830 the 
Jesuits were expelled, and tiie holy edi- 
fices fell into decay. Soon after the for- 
midable great walls of the present fortress 
arose, commanding the valleys and the 
routes in the vicinity. Immense bar- 
racks and bomb proofs were con- 
structed, and in ordinary times a garri- 
son of two thousand men would make 
but little show in the immense i)lace. 
The French," concluded my fellow- 
traveller, '• maintain that the reduction 
of Valerien liy boml);n'dment is imjwssi- 
ble." As he finished this sentence, the 
old fort growled, and the white jjuff of 
smoke showed us that the gunners, see- 
ing us pass, had felt it their duty to 
salute us with the customary useless 
shell. 

From Maisons Laflltte we went on to 
Argeuteuil. The forest beyond Saint 
Germain was beautiful in its garb of 
freshly fallen and crystallized snow, and 
the long alleys looked like marble sculpt- 
ured aisles in some vast cathedral. An 
hour's ride brought us to several little 
towns attached to each other by a slender 
thread of houses, and we were soon in 
Maisons LafTitte, and on the Seine bank. 



At Maisons Laffitte we found few sol- 
diers, and the peasants were very aggres- 
sive, and treated us with open hostility 
and suspicion. We were ol)liged to 
press one of them into our service and 
force him to show us the cIMpuu which 
Mansard l)uilt for Louis XII. down by 
the river banks. Tiie grounds were fine, 
their natural beauties not liaviug been 
defaced li^' the insipid style of gardening 
for which Le Notre was notorious, and 
the broad walks, bordered by pedestals on 
which stood busts of the Roman Em- 
perors, were quite imposing. We entered 
the great hall, whore nude Clrecian figures 
gleamed aliove us. The chdteau had for 
a long time been occupied by the be- 
siegers, and, although few attempts at 
wanton destruction had been made, there 
were visible marks of occupation. The 
owner of the chdteau at that time was 
the president of a great insurance com- 
pany of Paris, and his private pai)ers 
had been scattered Mther and you. The 
l)ianos were opened, the beds were left 
richly dressed. In the gorgeously deco- 
rated bed-chamber, and the dainty bou- 
doir, hidden in drifting clouds of rich 
lace, a dozen oflicers had their quarters, 
and champagne bottles and cigar stumps 
strewed the waxed floors. In the picture 
gallery, w^here the paintings were undis- 
turbed, mattresses left lying about showed 
that forty soldiers had slept. The fire- 
places were filled with broken meats and 
bottles. A huge avenue led down to the 
river bank, where formerly there was a 
fine bridge over the Seine. This had 
been blown up early iu December. Here 
we were obliged to cross in range of 
Mont Valerien ; but the gunners did not 
deign to notice us this time. On the 
other bank, at the village called Sartrou- 
ville, we found soldiers from the Fourth 
corps pushing forward to Argeuteuil, 
the nearest point to Paris within the lines. 



334 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



At Sai'trouvilk' tvo l.eartl tlie sharp 
craek of the i-Jia.^fiejintf:. the French out- 
posts keepiny; up au incessant Arc upon 
the Prussians passing unconcernedly to 
and fro within their own lines. An hour 
before our arrival, Mont Valerien had 
been attempting to dislodge some troojis 
not far from us. These troops were 
nearly all young men. few older than 
twenty-live, sturdy, hale, honest-looking 
gaiUanh. We watched them assisting 
each other in preparations for their 
march, rolling their overcoats, capping 
their pistols, etc. At las^t, when every- 
thing was ready, they fell into line with- 
out a word. All, as one man, put their 
feet forward cii route for Ai'genteuil. 
This v.as done so promi)tly, and with a 
movement so regular, that one might 
have imagined every man a part of a 
machine. In Sartrouvillo many of the 
houses were completely burned, and the 
country was more desolate than any we 
had seen liefore. ]Most of the inhabi- 
tants had gone away, having probably 
retired into Paris at the opening of the 
siege ; but a few old men were prowling 
aliout, beseeching the Prussians and 
French alike for alms. 

"We left Sartrouville late ni the after- 
noon, and neared Argenteuil just as the 
evening sunset was reddening the sky. 
As we came up the hill Ijy which we 
were to descend into Argenteuil we saw 
the ([uick, white puffs of smoke, which 
denoted a battle, and could hear the 
steady roll of firing ahead of us. Where 
the Seine wound ,away we saw the 
piclcets at work, and were cautioned by 
a passing soldier not to venture near the 
river, "as French bullets," he said, 
" easily reached much farther than that." 

Argenteuil was deserted save by a 
few blue-bloused peasants, who begged 
for news with such energy that we for- 
got the rules imposed upon us by the 



Prussians. — not to talk to Frenchmen 
within the German linos ami tell them 
what \\e lincw. The lower road from 
Sartrouville to Argenteuil was con- 
stantly swept by a small lire from the 
French lines. We went down to it, but 
came back convinced that it was not the 
proper place for an excursion. 

At Argenteuil was a hill commanding 
a fine view of Paris, and, in the fading 
glow of the sunset, we looked down upon 
the misty outlines of the great capital, 
whicli. at this distance, seemed as calm 
as a cemetery. Here the Germans had 
an observatory, from which, if inclined, 
they could h)ok over JMontmartre, and 
could ijlainly distinguish all the opera- 
tiiins on tlu- walls of ^lont Valerien. 

At the end ><( the long principal street 
of the town we saw a Frenchman curs- 
ing two Prussians who had offered to 
buy prcjvisious fr(.)ui him. He refused to 
give them anything, and emptied his 
vocabular}' of invectives, finishing his 
remarks with a hearty burst of laughter, 
as if he were delighted with the dilemma 
in which the enemy found itself. Large 
masses of troops were drilling on a plain 
beyond Argenteuil, and here, although 
we were close to Paris and the forts, the 
Germans seemed as tranquil and as pos- 
sessed as if they had been at home. 

The next village was Sannois ; and 
here we crossed the railway and bent 
away in the direction of St. Denis and 
the other forts on the east, towards St. 
Gratien and Eiiinai, where a .sortie had 
lately occurred. Here we found the 
Prussians very numerous, and on the 
alert. Sentinels halted us at every turn 
in the road, and examined our papers 
cautiously. Now and then we had to 
submit to cross-questioning l)y some 
lawyer or " Herr Doctor" with a gun 
on his shoulder, if he presumed to doubt 
that we had really come from Versailles. 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



335 



We passed the night in the foremost 
investment lines, and not far from the 
forts of St. Denis, La Double Couronne 
du Nord, La Breehe, and the Fort de 
I'Est. After we had escaped through a 
wassailing party of soldiers, who had in- 
sisted upon quarrelling with us because 
we had avowed tliat we were not Prus- 
sians, we went to the coimnaudant of the 
place, who received us with coiu'tesy, antl 
who sent a soldier to find us quarters for 
the night. This conmiandant belonged 
to an Anhaltischer i-egiment, the Ninety- 
third Auhalt-Dessau, and was a fine 
specimen of the German militar\' man. 
He told us that duty there was especially 
arduous, and the men had suffered much. 
The forts never allowed a night to pass 
without throwing at least an hundred 
shells into the lines, on the theory, he 
sui)posed, tiiat it prevented sleep. It 
was rather startling at first to hear the 
shells come erasliing into the streets. 

At Montmorency were stationed the 
Sixth and Seventh divisions of I ho 
Fourth army corps, the former under 
General Schwartzhof and the latter under 
General Zelineksl^i. " Tlie Fourth Pio- 
neers were not far away, in front, near 
Epinai," said the commandant, " and they 
have had a tremendous raking from the 
very first moment of their occui)ation." 
They were destined to a trial even more 
severe than any that had yet been suf- 
fered, on the next night after our arrival, 
and we had an opportunity of witnessing 
many of its phases, during the opera- 
tions which the French had begun 
towards Gennevilliers and Argenteuil as 
a diversion at the time of General 
Ducrot's great sortie, wliich culminated 
in the disaster at Champigny. 

Montmorency is one of the loveliest 
suburban towns near Paris. From its 
high hills, crowned with historic villas, it 
dominates a noble sweep of valley, 



forest, and lake. At tlie foot of one of 
tliese hills lies Enghien, long famous for 
its sulphur baths ; and a little farther on 
is tlie forest in which so mucli fighting oc- 
curred during the siege. Aside from its 
feudal history Montmorency acquired 
peculiar interest in later days by the 
ciioice of it as a residence bj- many dis- 
tinguished people, and as a pleasure 
liaunt Iiy the Parisians. Jean-Jacques 
Rousseau had liis liermitage tiiere. Tlie 
old building is still sliown, and tlie chest- 
nut trees under wliicii tlie old pliilosoi)iier 
used to muse are still pointed out with 
reverence. Rachel once had a villa at 
Montmorency, and in the so-called new 
hermitage Imlli Gretry, the composer, 
and the Duchesse de Berri have had tiieir 
liomes. American and French painters 
liave made Montmorency and Enghien 
and Ecouen their favorite sketcliiiig 
grounds for months togetlier. Where 
we found the stalwart men of the Fourth 
Prussian corps grimly grasiiing their 
rifles at their outposts, many a painter 
had s[)ent studious days in the wood. 

After inspecting our rather gloomy 
quarters, a deserted villa, in whicli I in- 
curred the displeasure of two soldiers 
because I interfered to prevent tliem 
from cutting joints of raw meat upon a 
costly piano, we were invited to supper 
with a young lieutenant of the command- 
ant's regiment, a baron, who insisted 
upon regaling us with music as well as 
with wine and with " Erbswurst." This 
colossus — he must have been six feet 
three, and of phenomenal measure across 
the chest — sat drinking red wine all the 
evening and listening to the music of 
Beethoven and Wagner, which one of 
his corporals played on the piano. Now 
and then the forts added tlieir deep bass 
to the music, liut we paid little attention 
to tiiem. The baron had already had 
numerous shells in his quarters, and 



336 



EUROl'E IX STORM AXP CALM. 



sliowod lis pieces of one wliii/li liiul ex- 
ploded in his Ivitclieii on the previous 
da\-. -'Tile men," he said, "consider 
outpost duty here as equal to going into 
a sicirmish, and they looJv forward to it 
with many forebodings. Tliis picket 
dutj' is imposed upon them for four days. 
Tliose wlio are in tliepiclvet-line at night 
do no duty on the following day." The 
lines were something less than three 
tiionsand feet ai^art, yet very few ont- 
l)osts were killed ; but alarms were con- 
tinual. 

AVe slei)t that night on some rather 
unsavory straw in wliat had Iteen the 
salon of our villa, and tlie screaming of 
the sliells going over the house, and the 
smoke and stencli fron) tlie fire, built of 
fragments of green palings, in the long- 
unused fireplace, kept us wakeful. 
Next day, as the cannonading was 
furious in the direction of Enghien and 
Epiuai. we left our horses, and went 
down to the road leading to Enghien and 
the foi'cst Iteyond. After a walk of an 
houi- and a lialf through a charming 
series of villa-liordei'ed streets, we came 
to the entrance of the town, where we 
were arrested by an officer, who, how- 
ever, soon became our guide, and told 
us that an iini)urtant ^nrtiv was in prog- 
ress. 

Here tlie main railway line was barri- 
caded lieavily, and a stockade had been 
Iniilt for some distance along the road. 
Barricades were numerous, and it was 
evident that the French would liave 
to make a desperate fight to lireak 
through here. Tlie officers showed us 
the famous Chinese villa of De Ville- 
messant, tlie editor of the sprightly Paris 
Fir/drii. and on the ojjposite side of tlie 
lake, wliicii is one of Engliieu's attrac- 
tions, the country-house of the famous 
editor of tlie Lihcrte^ Euiile dc Girardiu. 
But he was soon obliged to leave us. 



and tlie incessant cracking of musketry 
in tlie French lines, about five thousand 
yards awaj^ and the furious cannon- 
ading, convinced us that the fight 
was drawing near. From that mo- 
ment until late at night Enghien and 
its neighborhood were as thoroughly 
scourged by shells as was the battle- 
field of Sedan on the day of the 
memoralile disaster to the French. 
The forward moveinent in the French 
mrtw did not liegin until the next day ; 
but great mortar batteries, estalilished 
at Argenteuil and Bezons, were making 
desperate efforts to dislodge the Ger- 
mans from the positions which we were 
now visiting. A furious grenade fire 
was directed upon Enghien and Saint 
Gratien. Next day the French forces 
were pushed vigorously up and into 
the edge of Epinai, their outposts re- 
maining just within the limits of the 
town after the main body had been 
driven back. All the troo|)s from 
Montmorency were in this fight, and 
spoke with the greatest respect of the 
fire from tlie forts. The commandant 
said that at one time it was beyond 
descrij)ti<iu awful. Eight or ten sliells 
per minute were thrown with remark- 
able precision into the lines of the Prus- 
sians. A lii'other officer of his was 
killed in a minute by a grenade, which 
cut him almost in two. The losses of 
this division were about eighteen offi- 
cers and three hundred men. The 
commandant said he saw steel mitntil- 
Iriisc batteries, mounted on railway 
carriages, iron-clad. These we thought 
a myth, and laughed at the story ; but 
his statement was subsequently proved 
to lie true, aud the English have since 
used these railway batteries to great 
advantage in Egyiit. This command- 
ant, aud all the Prussian otHcers whom 
we met during the next two days, 



EVROrE IN STOliM AND CALM. 



337 



spoke with the highest jirai'^e of tlie 
fighting qualities of the French. After 
the struggle at Epinai. among the 
dead were found many who had thrown 
away their lations. their cajis, every- 
thing save tlieir guns, in Iheir desire to 
tight without hindranee. The French 
troops, said the (Jermans, .all had three 
days' rations of white Ijread and cutlets 
of horse-flesh. Tiiis is all they had to 
eat. They were well eqnii)i>ed. Most 
of tliose who were found dead were 
Mobiles. INIauy jn'isoners were taken, 
and among them some few Zouaves. 
All along tiie forest country near F^ng- 
hieu, for the next day and a half, it 
seemed as if the mouth of hell had 
been opened ; grenades rained every- 
where ; hundreds were sunk in the lake, 
and did no good lior liiirni. 

Next morning, despite the cautions 
of the Germans against the F'rancs-Tir- 
eurs, who, tliey said, were occasionally 
to be met with in the forest, we went 
down from Montmorency through the 
wood and on to Saint (Jratien, to visit 
the villa of the Frincess Mathilde, a 
meml)er of the late Imperial family. 
We were somewhat amused at the 
nciivet/'. of the German sentinels, who 
insisted upon supposing us to l>e 
F'reuchmen and questioned the anthen- 
ticity of our military passes. We found 
the villa, a kind of bastard cMtvaiu 
had been used diu'ing the preceding 
day as a hospital ; and on entering, we 
found the bed-ciiaml)er of the Princess 
stained with Prussian blood. Woundeil 
men were lying groaning upon the most 
elegant and costly couches. The jjict- 
ures, the library, and furniture re- 
flected the somewhat voluptuous tastes 
of the Princess, who had occupied the 
nook as a retreat when the gayeties of 



Paris liecamo fatiguing. The decora- 
tions by (Hrau'l were comi)osed of 
sulijects rather liroader in tone and 
treatment tiian would have been ad- 
mitted in a respectable Fnglisli or 
American family. 

From the chiUfiui we went on to Saint 
Gratien, a little town of a few lumdred 
inhal)itants, celeljrated as tlie burial 
l)lace of a manjuis who was a valiant 
.soldier under the F^Lrst Em|)ire, and had 
attained the grade of Marshal, when, for 
some fault, he w as reduced to the ranks, 
and retired to the forest at this unfor- 
tunate close of liis military career to 
muse and mourn until death relieved 
him of his troubles. 

We returned to F^nghien by another 
road througii thft forest, and found the 
pioneers busy in felling the l>eantifu! 
trees and laying them across cacii oth'T 
in the most scientific mannei'. To for- 
tify the positions in that neighborhood, 
thousands nyion thousands of noble 
trees were sacrificed. Wagon trains 
loaded with mati'rials for fortifying the 
outside positions were creaking along 
the frosty higliways, and the wiigoners 
were gayly mocking at the thunderous 
refrain kei)t u[) by the four northern 
l)rotlicr forts. The great watch-dogs in 
front of the walls of Paris were barking 
with all their might and mnin to encour- 
age the poorly e(inip[>ed and almost un- 
tried troops, which were at that moment 
beginning to grap()le at Champigny with 
their iieretofore triumi)hant and well- 
trained enemies. From ^Montmorency 
we [)ushed on tinongh St. Brice, Villiers- 
le-Bel, and .S»wcelles t(j Gonesse, the 
head-quarters of Prince August of Wur- 
temburg, against whose rather thin 
lines General Ducrot had thrown enor- 
mous masses of men. 



338 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



CIIAFTEK THIRTY-SIX. 



The Period of Despair. — The Final ElTort. — The Great Sortk. — Champi'j;ny. — The Fijrht at Villiers. — 
Duerot ami His Disaster. — Valorous Conduct of tlic French. — The News of the Defeat of the Loire 
Army. 



THE 2:i-p.at sririie wliich the Parisians 
had now undortaki'n, aud of which 
we iiad seen tlio unsnccessful beginning, 
was begnn witii the liope that Gambetta 
had at hist oiganized victory in the 
south, and tliat his conquering forces, 
arriving from the district of the Loire, 
wonld lie alile to effect a junction with 
the forces under tiie walls of Paris, aud 
sweep away the invader into hopeless 
retreat and disastrous confuMion. It is 
said upon good authority' that General 
Troclui, despite his position as com- 
mander in Paris, made no secret of his 
belief that the resistance was hopeless ; 
and it is also said of him that at a 
certain council, when he was asked if he 
did not believe in resistance, " Witli all 
the troops in Paris we can effect noth- 
ing," lie said, "■except to make dust for 
future generations to walk on." Gen- 
eral Trochu was much rei>i-oached for 
many years after the war for this policy 
of despair ; but I believe he has never 
undertaken to deny or defend it. 

He was not anxious, however, nor had 
be the power, to prevent the organization 
of the great effort of the last few days 
of November. It is at once curious and 
sad to note that this French sortie, as 
all the battles in the campaign, had 
failed for lack of [iroper jireparatiou of 
material resources absolutely necessary 
to the carrying out of a military plan. 
If the engineer who was charged with 
the preparation of the pontoon bridges 



to be thrown across the River Marne 
during the night of the 2.Sth-29th of 
November liad done his work with the 
care and skill which the engineers of the 
enemy's forces alwaj's showed on such 
important occasions, he would have con- 
tributed no little to the raising of the 
siege of Ptiris, and peihaiis might have 
flattered himself that he was a powerful, 
although humble, instrument in the lib- 
eration of tlie great capital. 

IJut the bridges were not ready. 

The Prussians, as we had observed 
from the beginniug of the campaign, 
and, in fact, all the German armies, 
i'a tried with tliem, and took the utmost 
pains to keep in excellent order, pon- 
toon trains for all emergencies. The 
|iresence of these pontoon trains at 
the rear of tlie advancing colunms 
w;is the means of saving many a 
noble bridge and viaduct in France, 
for the Fiench. who are a very logical 
people, were at once convinced that 
it was u.seless to destroy fine ni.asonry 
over streams which the enemy could 
bridge for itself ten minutes after 
the arches and piers were sprung. 
Genius has been not inaptly described 
as au infinite capacity for taking pains, 
and the suppl}' of this capacity in the 
(ierman army was quite wonderful. 
The Frencii could improvise a defense 
out of the incessant labor of a few d.ays ; 
in des|)erate valor and in self-sacriflce 
they were the peers of their enemy ; but, 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



339 







340 EfRlU'E IN SrORM A\D CALM. 

when it caine to cool forvf-itiiit ;uiil iMijiiiiccrs who had not liot the liiidg'us 

aliiindant cah-ulation, they weiT inlinitely reaily.) '• (General \'uioy. who was to 

inferior. ailvanee U|)on C'hoiwy, w^as not -warned 

The ]Marne was not 1)ridi;ed at the in time. lie execaited his movement, 

piojier time hy the French pontoons, and wlieu lie I'onnd tliat the governor 

and the stii|)endons operations whieh had adjonrneil his, he was forced to 

(ieneral Vinov and rieneral Duerot were retreat alter siitferinir heavv losses, 

to liave carried into effect were checked. This event cansed an emotion which 

and linally rninod. The only advaiitajie yon will easily understand; Imt it mnst 

which the French derived from the sortie not lie exatigerated. The governor has 

was the inHiction of tremendous losses taken ijossession of the platean i>f ,\.vron, 

npon the enemv, and of the addition of where he has strongly fortified himself, 

a lirilliant page to French military his- and where he intends to continne his 

tory. operations. The danger is th.-it we mav 

I\[. Favre. lonelv in his caliinet, after meet there a warned and eonccntrated 

the cxliausting lalioi's of the <lav. wrote enemv. You may imagine our anxiety, 

nightly to (ranihetta letters full of If we fail, we are doubly lost ; lint this 

energy, courage, and hope. On the is not the time to lie <liscoin-:iged."" 
L".ith of Nox'emlier he wrote the lirilliant General Dncrut had marshalled fcjrth 

yonug delegate, who was building up his soldiers of the '■ second army of 

the defense in the South, a brief note, Paris,"' as he called them, with a liery 

whicli gives a clear notion of the objects pro<-lamalion. In this dociinienl he told 

<if the great soiiii-. '• As the goveiai- the troops thai the aclion had been pre- 

uuMit had informed you," wrote M. pared for mouths : that the eonimander- 

Fa\i(.', "'it had lixecl upon Tuesday, the in-chief liad got togetlicr uioi-e than four 

"-".•til, for the .s((/7/(', on the general plan hundred caiinou, two-thii'ds of which were 

which il had already given you some of heavy calibre : that one hundred and 

idea of. This plan was audacious, cai'e- eightv thousand men, well-.armeil and 

fully prepaic'd. and its main aim waste ecpiipped, ought logo any where ; that the 

pii'i'ce the (ierman lines with an army enemy was descending to the banks (jf 

of one hniulred thousand men, .and to the Loire with his bi'st soldiers, where 

join forces with yon on or near the Loire. thev were all to be lieatcu liy the newly 

The governor ((.ieneral Troehu) began oiganizeil French armies: that courage 

his movements on Sunday. The jirinci- and confidence would win the day ; and 

pal task was confided to (ieneral Duerot. that, as for himself, he was firmly re- 

His operations were to be maskiMl liy sohed, and took an <iat!i bi'fore tfa' 

attacks froin different sides, deceiving army and the nation to return into 

the enemy, and giving it no rest. The Paris '• dead or \ii'lorions." 
governor went out yesterdav to one of These were lirave words, which ]int a 

the priucii)al points to observe the pas- certain fever into the blood of the soldiers, 

sage of his army over the Marne, ou who felt that the fate of the country de- 

seveu bridges; unfoi-tnuately, at mid- pendcd upon the success of their efforts, 

night, a sudden rise in the jNIarue ren- I'oor General Duerot, after the failure of 

dered this passage impossible." (This his operations, was roundly abused and 

was the story which was inxcufed to much lidicailcd because he liad not kept 

excuse the di^lav and the blunder of tiie his woixl : Imt. if fie tlid not succeed in 



EUROPE IN STOF.n AND CALM. 



341 



gaining a. pernmnont victory, lie did 
everything tiiat he could to win a 
soldier's death, before ret;i ruing to 
Paris. Dozens of soldiers testify to 
his bravery in battle, and on the Held 
of Champigny he pushed into the very 
ranks of the enemy, and broke his sword 
in a Saxon's breast. But his life w.is 
charmed. IIo could not die, and he was 
obliged to swallow his fine words, and to 
live for nuiny years afterwards a soured 
and disai)pointed, Init unquestionably an 
honorable and capable soldier. 

Tlie failure of the French to cross the 
Marue in the night of the 28th gave 
the Germans twenty-four hours in which 
to concentrate fresh troops upon the 
weak i)ortions of their lines, and, by 
sunset on the 29th, all hope of breaking 
through tlie point towards which the 
Frencli were directing their endeavors 
was gone. On the .30tli of November, 
early in the morning, the two first French 
divisions crossed the river, and pushed 
the enemy back to the first slopes of 
C'hani])igny. A series of battles and ar- 
tillery duels took place along the plateau 
of Avron, on the heights of Moutnii'dy, 
Creteil, Joinville-le-Font, Champigny, 
Noisy-le-Grand, and Villiers-sur-lMarue. 
The Wurtemlinrg troops, when tiiey 
were first struck by the vigorous Freuch 
attack, were sadly demoralized. I had 
ocular evidence of that, and had they 
been unaided tliey would h.ave opened 
their ranks and let the besieged through, 
on their way to the junction with Gam- 
be tta's forces. But, as soon as they 
l)egan to fall liack. they found that they 
were supported by the .'Saxons, and by 
regiment after regiment of Prussians, 
coming up in solid order. 

.So they rallied, and |)ushed away the 
French, who had already taken posses- 
sion ot' the sunnuit of Montmedy. As 
soon as they saw the action turning in 



their favor, they came forward with loud 
shouts and flourished their gnus over 
their heads like madmen. Doubtless 
they were a little ashamed of having 
broken ranks shortly before, and had 
determined to make up for it, now that 
they felt safe. In front of them there 
had come up nndiseiplined French 
troops, who fell back in considerable 
disorder upon Creteil. But one of their 
generals was brave even to utter rash- 
ness, and was shot down within thirty 
yards from the Prussian lines, still crying 
out. " Forward ! " This energeti(; oliicer, 
who had won a high reputation in the 
African and Italian campaigns, was the 
tallv of all the German soldiers for the 
next few days. When the first charge 
on Montmedy occiu'red, he went into it 
flourishing his cap on the end of his 
sabre ; and his men would have followed 
him to destruction. lie went through 
the first charge, although a pLstol ball 
had broken one of his wrists. He was 
the man who, when he wa.s slowly dying, 
a day or two after the battle, from the 
numerous wounds which he had received, 
.said to the soldiers who surrounded his 
l>ed, "If we still have an army that 
knows how to die, France may be saved." 

On this same day of the 30th there 
was a tremendous battle in and around 
tlie villages of Bry-sur-Marne and Cham- 
])igny. In Bry-sur-Marne the battle was 
from house to house, from alley-way to 
alley-way ; a]id here the French Zouaves, 
who had won such a bad reputation at 
the outset of the siege, in flying from the 
table-land of Chatillon, fought with ad- 
mirable courage, and redeemed their 
honor. 

All the time that this hand-to-hand 
fighting in the villages was going on 
there was a perfectly terrific artiller3 
duel between batteries of the contending 
forces. Having repossessed themselves 



342 



EVROrE IN STORM ANT) CALM. 



of ISIoiitmody, the Germans bad suc- 
ceeded ill shutting the door which had 
been momentarily oiioncd on tlie road to 
VersailU\s ; and thev bolted and liarred 
it so effectually as to have no fears tliat 
it would be opened again. 

Meantime the French were creeping 
up the heights of Villiers and Chenne- 
vi^res, disputing foot bj' foot the blood- 
stained way, hiding among the vines and 
stopping, now and then, — poor, half- 
starved fellows! — to pluck the frozen 
grapes which hung convenient to their 
grasp. It was slow work coming up 
these hills ; and it was half-pa.st four in 
the afternoon before the French Ijat- 
talioiis got to the walls of the park at 
Villiers, where the Prussians had made 
their retreat. 

AVheu once the French troops were 
well upon the hill, a long and terrible 
line of musketry sent forth such a sweep- 
ing fire of death that hundreds upon 
hundreds of men fell before they could 
reach a cover ; and the scene, for a few 
minutes after this army of on-rushiug 
French, mad for victoiy and wild for 
revenge, was transformed in the twink- 
liugof an eye into groaning and writhing 
masses of wounded men, heaped upon 
their dead comrades, was one of the 
most frightful and startling of the whole 
century. When the sun went down 
that night, the sky was red as bl<wd, 
as if the dread colors of the Iiattle-field 
were reflected in it. Then silence fell 
upon the whole country side. The 
groaning of the cannon, the harsh 
shrieks of the mitniilli'nsea, the hurrahs 
of the VVnrtemburgers and their sturdy 
allies, who had come up just in time lo 
save them, the cries of the wounded, — 
all died away, as if the shades of the 
winter twilight, rapidly falling over the 
scene of carnage, had blotted it out, 
anil swept it into eternal oblivion. 



It is not too much to say, that, on 
that night, the forces on both sides 
ceased their efforts from utter exhaus- 
tion. Every nerve in both armies had 
been strained to the utmost for more 
than thirty-six hours. There were Ger- 
man troops in the fight who had not had 
a monu>nt's rest for all that time. A 
[ihilosophical Wurtembnrger, who was in 
the whole Villiers fight, — a kind of ram- 
bling encounter, which lasted for four or 
five days, — in writing fnnu Villiers to 
some friends on the -Jth of December, 
and describing the task of retaking Mout- 
raesly, while the German troops were 
subjected to a crushing tire from the 
forts, said, " You can h.ive no idea of 
the frightful rain of shells which we en- 
countered here. It is a veritable miracle 
that ourwliole liattery was not destroyed 
simply liy the immense numerical supe- 
riority of the French batteries. We fired 
upon them with precision and coolness, 
l)ut in less than half an hour we had lost 
eight men and fifteen horses. ISIy horse 
was struck down by a shell five seconds 
after I dismounted from it. Mitrail- 
leuses were placed at a short distance 
from ns, and their bullets went hissing 
above our heads like a swarm of bees. 
We had to hand together, and get into 
position a hundreil paces farther away 
behind the wall of a park, which we soon 
had in a state of defense." 

This little i)aragraph gives an ade- 
quate idea of the manner in which the 
Germans always availed themselves of 
shelter. In many an action German 
troops were scarcely seen at all liy the 
enemy. If there was a wall convenient, 
they had loop-holed it ; a forest, they 
were hidden within it ; a barricade was 
a God-send to them ; a cemetery, a ditch, 
— anything which they could transform 
into a tem[)orarv fortification, — was in- 
stantly and invariably adopted. " I 



EUROPE LV fJTORM AND OALff. 



343 










344 



EUROPE EV STOEM AXD CALM. 



thank God." s.'iiil this (lorman soldier, 
" that I am still alive. I shall never 
forget that day- Some of the Prnssian 
otflcorssaid thatit was a much worse affair 
than tliat of Gravelotte. The soil was 
fairly turned uj) by the French shells. 
For the first time I understand what it 
means to he outside of cover under an 
artillery fire. On the 30th we could not 
occupy the villages of Champigny and 
Bry-sur-Marue, for when the forts began 



ribly, and hundreds of them were unfit 
for battle next day. Trees were cut 
down and great fires were built, both 
because General Trochu wished to make 
the enemy think that an immense armj' 
was encamped near him, and because the 
men were literally freezing. The hor- 
rors of that night for the wounded men 
surpass all the powers of description. 

Next daj' there was no fighting, but 
early on the morning of the 2d of Dc- 




TUE rillESTS' AMBULANCE CORPS AT THE BATTLE OF CHAMrKiXY. 



to concentrate their fire upon them they 
were too hot to stay in ; all the more be- 
cause we were attacked by forces (juad- 
ru|)le our own in numbers." 

When the French got into Champigny 
they found it in a frightful condition. 
The >Saxons, who had been occujjying it 
for some tia)e, were greatly annoyed at 
being disturbed, and they smashed every- 
thing : mirrors, costly furniture, — re- 
specting nothing whatever. Next moin- 
in<>:, the weather, which had been mild, 
suddenly became very cold. The half-fed 
and excited ]""rtMich troojis sutfered ter- 



cember the Saxons and Wurtembuig- 
ers together fell upon the towns of Bry- 
sur-Marne and Champigny; and this 
was a part of the deliberate attempt of 
the Germans to throw General Ducrot's 
army back upon the right Itank of the 
Marne and to push it into the river, or 
compel it to com|ilete disorganization 
and confused retreat, which would render 
any future operations on its part impos- 
silile. 

The French troops at first fought mag- 
nificently against tlie vast numbers of 
the ineniv, which now lloeked d<->wn upon 



EVROFE IX STORM AND CALM. 



345 



tlieni. Fresli reinforceinents were sent aiul his aids. The Govornnient of 
up, and the contest jiromised to he long, National Defense papered the walls 
and possibly to be decided in favor of with encouraging proclamations. On 
the Parisians. When the new (rcnnan the next day came a sad surprise, and 
column came out of the woods of Villiers one which at first stniiefied and finally 
and began to push the French troops exasperated the Parisians. On the 4th 
back upon Brv-sur-Marne, and towards of December General Duerot announced 
the River Marne, the French lines wav- to the besieged within the walls of the 
ered. General Duerot and General Tro- capital, by means of a proclamation 
chu made desperate efforts to rally tiieui. issued to his own ti'ooi)s, that he had 
The great military park on the 
plateau of Avron sent forth a 
formidable fire to cut gaps in 
the German lines ; and at last 
one hundred thousand men, 
who had swarmed for an hour 
or two on the hillsides, — Prus- 
sians, Bavarians, Saxons, and 
Wnrtemburgers, — hesitated, 
and finally were forced to halt 
and to withdraw a little. 

At four o'clock in the after- 
noon they were found throwing 
up intrenchments, as if fearing 
that the\- who had been at- 
tacked might suddenly be the 
attacking jiarty. The French 
had managed to get altont lialf 
of Cliampigny; they had retaken 
house after house, and barricade 
after barricade ; but the German prison- 
ers told them that there were at least 
one hundred and fifty thousand Prus- 
sians massed not far away ; and, after 
the numerous arrivals of fresh troops that new efforts 
that they h.ad seen, they liegan to belicA e 
this statement. Geueral Trochn. iiow- 
ever, claimed the day as a victory for 
the Fiench armies; and General Dncrot, 
wiio had been wounded on this dav bv a 
splinter of a shell, after having ridden 
right through the German lines two or 




EPLSODE IN THE f?l 
PARIS. — NO MORE 



brough 
I >aek a 

Marne, hecause 

le was convinced 

w efforts 

in a direction 

where the enemy had had plenty of 

time to concentrate all its forces, and 

to prepare all its means of action, 

would be useless. "Had I persisted 

in this line of attack," he said, " I 

should uselessly have sacrificed many 

three times, still expressed hopes that thousands of brave men, and, instead 

the operations would be successful. of serving the cause of deliverance, I 

Paris was electrified by the despatches should seriously have compromised it." 

which came to it from General Tiochu Perhaps it required more moral bravery 



346 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



on tlio part of Gonoral Diiorot to do just 
what 111' dill than to have iiUmgod anew 
hito a battle whieli eonld have had but 
one end. — the partial or complete anni- 
liilation of liis army on the lianks of the 
Marne. 

The wliole country for miles around 
was liUed with tiu' marks of the san- 
guinary struggh' ; the villages were in 
ruins ; the hills were piled with heaps of 
mangled cor[ises. On the French side 
the priests and the volunteer ambulance 
men were busy in bearing away to Paris 
those of the soldiers who were not 
mortally wounded, and preparing decent 
])laces in the farm-houses and cottages 
for those whose sands of life were fast 
running out. On the frozen earth along 
the heights beyond C'hampigny and 
Villiers, the German dead were still 
lying in piles and rows on the od and 
■1th of December, although burial parties 
worked vigorously during the nights, and 
after the fight of the 30th they lalwred 
<luring the whole of the 1st, determined 
to conceal as much as possible their 
losses from the enemy. As a French 
writer has tersely said, in his impartial 
and careful account of this series of 
fights, ten thousand dead men of the two 
races were strewn along the frozen hills, 
and nothing had been done to change the 
destiny of Paris. The blockade con- 
tinued. General Ducrot had reentered 
alive and victorious in vain. 

At first Paris could not believe that 
this was the end of its great hope. It 
did not doubt that military operations 
would be continueil at another point. 
Very likely the attack at Chanipigny had 
been only a feint. We shoulil soon hear 
of fights elsewhere, and the besieged, not 
douliting that the Loire army was near 
at hand, looked with confidence for the 
soldiers of Gener:d A u relics dr Pahidincs. 



But on the evening of the Cth of Decem- 
ber the Parisians learned by a procla- 
mation that letters had been exchanged 
between General Von Moltke and 
General Trochu. The German general 
informed (icneral Trochu, in a note of 
icy politeness and Spartan brevity, that 
the army of the Loire had been defeated 
on the previous day near Orleans and 
that the city had been occupied by the 
victorious troops. 

The los.s of the French during this 
series of battles was six thousand and 
thirty men, of which four hundred and 
fourteen were officers. The Germans 
lost much more heavily, and for some 
time after the siege the French insisted 
that the affair of Chanipigny and Villiers 
had cost Germany fifteen thousand sol- 
diers ; but this estimate was greatly 
exaggerated. 

Some days after the arrival of General 
VouMoltkc's letter in Paris, the Govern- 
ment of National Defense learned that 
the enemy had spoken truly ; yet the 
army of the Loire was only cut in two. 
It was neither captured nor annihilated. 
Paris took heart a little. (Tcneral 
Chanzy was still capable of a good re- 
sistance ; General Faidherbe was mak- 
ing a capital fight in the north ; and 
General Bourbaki, at Bourges, was pre- 
paring to assume the offensive with 
vigor. General Trochu now shut him- 
self up at Vincennes, where he said that 
be was so busy with the reorganization 
of his army that he could give no atten- 
tion to the interior administration of 
Paris. Starvation and bitter winter 
weather had come at the close of an un- 
successful soiiii.', to urge the Parisians 
to yield. 

Yet they held out with a bravery 
which has never been surpassed in the 
history of the world. 



EUROPE JN STORM AXD CALM. 



347 



CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN. 

Panoramic View of the German Investment Lines. — Mavgency. — Goncsse. — Cliclles. — The Varions Corps 
anil Tlieir Appearance. — Pictni-es from Versailles during the Occupation. — The Snow. — The 
Lantlwehrsmen. — Tlie Cliristmas Festivities. 



CONTINUING our journey, we found 
at Margency, which was simply a 
hamlet attached to a cliiUeax, the head- 
quarters of the Crown Prince of Saxony, 
who had under his command the Fourth, 
Sixth, and Guard corps. Our intention 
was to remain here for some days ; but 
the odious weather and the wretched ac- 
commodation forl)ade it. So we pushed 
on to Gonesse, the head-quarters of 
Prince August von AVurtemburg. Our 
route lay through Villiers-le-Bel, — a name 
dear to American and English artists, — ■ 
and through Sarcelles. The Fourth 
corps joined the Guard at Groslay, a 
village just outside the limits of Mont- 
morency, and extended to Cliehy-sur- 
Bois, not far from Chelles, and the scene 
of tlie important struggle just recounted 
on the banks of the Marne and the 
Seine. St. Brice, nearby, one of the oc- 
cupied points, was celebrated as one of 
Bossuet's man}' residences. To the right 
was Pierrefitte, still occupied by the 
French, and a little less tliau two miles 
and a half from the outer French line of 
defense. 

The Guard, without doubt the noblest 
body of men in the German array, had 
already suffered terrilily in the war ; and 
it was said at Gonesse, though I know 
not how truly, that this corps aloue had 
lost more men in the struggles around 
IMetz than the whole war of 18GG had 
cost Prussia. It was a proud and fiery 
corps, composed in large degree of i)er- 
sons of rank. But a few days before I 



had met in Versailles a yoinig otlicer, 
just about to leave one of the I'lilan 
regiments of the Guard liecause he was 
not a baron and every other oHicer in 
the regiment was. There were some 
regiments in which nearly every man had 
a title. To be introduced to an otlicer 
at Gonesse without hearing him signalled 
as '' Herr Graf " would have at once at- 
tracted attention to him. Many of the 
officers stationed here were extremely 
young, but nearly all were men of high- 
breeding and culture. Many a man in 
coarse uniform possessed a larger in- 
come than the proprietor of tiie costly 
villa in which he was temporaril}' lodged. 
The officers had very generally estab- 
lished in e.ach of the little towns com- 
modious restaurants called "Officers' 
Casinos," and liad pressed into tlieir 
service some few unwilling Frencli cooks 
who had remained in the neighI)()rhood. 
One saw man}' an officer spending more 
for the bottle of wine wliicii he drank for 
his breakfast than he recei\ed as pay for 
soldiering for a week. Private pockets, as 
well its government's treasur}-, were well 
depleted. The French charged enormous 
prices. Everything was at least triple 
or quadruple its former value. Potatoes 
and vegetables of all kinds were most 
difficult to obtain. The officers con- 
tented themselves with black bread, and 
made up for the absence of beer by 
swallowing numerous bottles of the or- 
dinary wine of the country, when no 
other was to be had. 



348 EURon: ix stohm a\i> calm. 

At Ctoucsso \vc Iksc] a pi-otty se\'en' ini[)<iri:iiit iioiiit what tliev culled a 
tri:il of onr nerves, neeanse we liail Kriegsbnieke, that is, a pontoon bridge, 
settled down to breakfast in a corner for war pnrposes, they had noted with 
of the town whieli had. nnfortnnately. the greatest care the various i-ontes lead- 
been selected that morning for [irac- ing to it, especially for wagon trains and 
tice In' the gnnners in the neighbor- convoys. 

ing French fort, and the shells fell with From Gonessc we pnslied forward, 

a recklessness which was cjuite a|)|iall- getting jnst within the lirst line of in- 

uvj. Fortunately a dense fog hindered vestment to Sevran. a little town badly 

the unnners from doing niui/h damage, punished l)y shells. On om- way thither 

In the nei!ihl)orhood of Gones.se we en- we had an opiiortunity to oliserve tlie 

countered, for the lirst time, a very grave manner in which the German ontposts 

dillicnltv, but one wliicli we afterwards fortified their i)ositions. Pireastworks 

met at every turn in making trips around were thrown u[> almost everywhere, con- 

I'aris. Whenever we asked a French- strncted out of every available niatori.nl. 

man to show ns the w:iv. as we were Where roads failed in the fields, artili- 

iiaturally puzzled liy the labyrintli of cial ones had been made out of the nn- 

large and small roads, he always mis- thresheil wheat, of whicli great heaps 

dii'ected us. This, at first, we could garnished the roadsiiles. Even the roads 

hardly believe, until we lost a couple ol' were doubly and triply barricaded at 

hours by trnstiug to oin- French guides, certain points, so that the French, in 

Presently we notetl that the Prnssians making a .soW/c, would be sure to get 

had the whole country classified into themselves under a deadly lii'e. •• Alarm 

vaiions districts, traversed by cei'faiu houses " wj're frequent along this ronte. 

i-outes ; and these were [dainly indicated 'I'he Prnssians had created facilities for 

by huu'e signs marked in ink, on the seeing almost every movement that any 

stone fence corners. •• C'oloneu weg "' consideraljle liody of Fren<'lnnen could 

signified that the road where the sign make near Paris, and could always pre- 

ap|>eared was the |)ro|)er one for heavy i)are themselves splendidly for defense, 

nuuiition and [irovision trains; and at Annet, an insiguificauf village near 

every town's enti'ance and exit one Sevran, was only noticeable from the 

found tiie way to and from each town fact that numbers of the Guard corps 

within a radius of twenty miles piopeily had illustrated tlieii- talent with unmer- 

showu on a liltle map. Other (ierman ous drawings on the walls of tiie houses. 

cori)s had uo{ the same tlioroughness The signs that had been placed to indi- 

of system noticealile among the Pins- cate the way were sometimes rendered 

sians. For instance, the Saxons, who very ainiising by tlie little sketches 

lay just beyond Gonesse. raiely maike(l which the several visitors to the iiidini- 

the wav so that a stranger could find tcnr had drawn. At Sevran we passed 

it. The French, at the lieginning of the Canal de L'Ourc(i. cleverly turned 

the siege of Paris, hail turuecl all the from its course by a (ierman engineer at 

sign-boards wrong end first, or, when the beginning of the investment, and 

that had been impossiljle, had taken the bridge over which we went had been 

them down and pitched them into the barricaded, the side towards Paris being 

nearest stream. Wherever the Prus- protected with doors taken from the 

sians had thrown acro-s the river at an granaries. 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



;;4i 



The scenery thronsjh wliieli we now 
passed was of dazzling loveliness. Tlie 
snow still decked the trees with crystals, 
and a temperate sun threw a genial, but 
not melting, light upon this fairy splen- 
dor. Hills were indistinguisliable, and 
seemed to fade into the sky. A bniMli- 
heap became an opalescent mass, and the 
far'-off forests, where symmetrical trees 
rose iu long avenues, vrere fantastic as 
dream-foliaoe. Here we weie skirting 
the noble and ancient wood of IJondy. 
where old King Chikleric met iiis nnlia[)iiy 
fate, and were drawing gradually towards 
the banks of the charming ^Marnc. 

At Livry we took tlie wrong road, 
and had gone two miles straigiit towards 
one of the forts before wo discovered 
our mistake. Had it not been for a com- 
pass I do not know what would have 
happened, for we should probalily have 
got into the French lines. At Livry, (jne 
of Madame de .Sevigiie's favorite haunts, 
there was nothing noticeable beyond the 
industry of the soldiers, who were none 
of them lolling about or playing at cards, 
but were all engaged in some kind of 
hard work. C'ai|)enters were plying their 
trade ; blaclismiths were soiling their 
uniforms over used-up horses ; the cooks 
had improvised the accustomed ca)), the 
sign of their i)rofe8s:ou, out of tlie news- 
papers sent them from Germany ; and 
the orticers were giving ord( rs as busilj' 
as the captain of a Cunarder in a gale. 

We were soon at C'lichy-sous-Bois, 
where the Guard corps ceased and tiie 
Saxons were stationed. The First in- 
fantry division had its head-quarters 
here in a huge chdteau, and some orticers 
told us that their corps extended as far 
as the left bank of the Marne on to the 
scene of the recent fight. The Saxons 
were a ruddy, healthy, luit dowdy look- 
ing, set of soldiers. The otticers were 
models of elegance and refined coiu'tesy. 



There was, however, a lack of that 
thoroughness of occupation which wo 
had remarked among the exclusively 
Prussian troops ; and, on the whole, from 
this [loint to v. here the gallant Second 
corps began, we could remark at ever)' 
turn tlie superiority of Prussia to the 
sister states iu military training. 

From Clichy we rode on to ilont Ver- 
meil, and tiieuce through the charming 
forest of Chelles. The grand old alibey 
of t'helles has twice been ravaged bv the 
English, — in l."'..").S and 14"2',), — and once 
entirely overturned by a hurricane. But 
it has always been restored by pious 
hands, and is one of the ai-chilectural 
wonders of France. Chelles is pictu- 
resquely situated, and stately poplars 
liorder the plains which stretch out from 
the town. Here we got into trouble with 
an officer, who had cautioned us against 
going over the upi)er of the two pontoon 
bridges which he had caused to lie built 
over the Marne. and we had mistaken 
his direction and crossed the wrong 
bridge. The result was just wliat ho 
liad oxi)ected. We drew the fire from 
Forts Noisy and Rosu}-, and that un- 
fortunate bridge was raked with shell 
for twenty minutes afterwards, iu such 
a manner that we were not surprised at 
the officer's rage. Our last glimpse of 
him was as he stood jiim|iing up and 
down on the banks of the Marue, and 
shaking his fists at us, wjiile the wiiole 
atmosi)here was charged with three-cor- 
nered German imprecations. He was so 
excited that he took no care for his own 
safety, and it was by uo means pleasant 
to stand under this storm of the tre- 
mendous projectiles launched by the 
forts. 

We talked with the Wurtemburgers 
who had lieen in the recent battle. These 
were stolid, tranquil, and clumsy men, 
whom the French never shook from their 



3F)0 



KURdl'Ii IX STOIIM AXI) VALM. 



lK)sts, nor lilew away with artilk'ry, nor 
frightened with bayonet eharges. " It 
was not luneh of a light," said one ; 
'• the}' conld not dig us out." The simile 
was a good one. 

Before us lay the lovely Marne, the 
snow-elad liranehes on its liauks I'ellected 
in the dark liUie of its -water, and here 
and there a little island half hidden under 
the sweeping boughs of the ancient trees. 
IJeyond the bridge we found a pioneer 
guard seated around a jjleasant eamp- 
lire. We rode to Cluuups ; thence to 
Malnoue, and so over the barren battle- 
field on which the Wnrtemburgers had 
done such valiant work. Here the 
country was desolate. In no village 
could we find a wisp of hay for our 
horses : no soldier had enough for his 
own beast. At C'ham|)s we found the 
peasants so sharp in their ex|)ression 
of hatred to us as their supposed foes 
that we were not sorry to find plenty of 
soldiers in the vicinity. 

AVe pushed on from Malnoue to La 
Ciueue-eu-Brie, a little town which bore 
indisputable marks of hard usage din-ing 
the recent fight. This had been an 
asylum for the wounded, and the ground 
iu nearly all tiie yards was strewn with 
blood-stained straw. Every available 
article of furniture had lieen smashed 
for firewood. It was not until the cold 
weather came that the Prussians liegau 
to do veritable damage t(^ the costly 
houses in which they were quartered. 
The Germans were in a country where 
wood is scarcer than in any other sec- 
tion of Europe, with the exception of a 
few noble, ancient forests preserved by 
the state. Stone being the exclusive 
building material, it was only the palings, 
the oak carvings, and the furniture upon 
which the cold and imi)atieut soldiers 
could rely. 

From La (^ueue-en-Brie we went to 



liondy St. Leger, where the stalwart 
Pomeranian Second regiment was quar- 
tered along the road, and as we were 
nearing the latter town we caught a 
chaiining glimpse of Paris. From the 
high hill which we climbed just before 
reaching a forest surrounding Baron 
Ilottinguer's rlu'ilrdii, the suu strug- 
gled out of a cloud under wliicli he had 
been sulking for some time, and touched 
the distant dome of the luvalides, so 
near and yet so far. "We could distin- 
guish the twin towers of Notre Dame 
and the dimly outlined dome of the Pan- 
theon. Smoke and flames arose from 
nunil)ers of villages which had just been 
fired by shells from Forts Ivry and 
Charenton. On the high plateau at the 
entrance to the wood of Bondy the Ger- 
mans had established a post of observa- 
tion. From Bondy to the old bridge of 
Charenton, almost under the very walls 
of Paris, there is a direct road, along 
which there had lieen much fighting. 
The I'omeranians were sore and angry, 
for their losses in the action in which 
they had just played such an important 
part had lieen very heavy. Here, at 
Bondy, the massing of troo]is was tre- 
mendous. It was evident that another 
sartip was expected, and that the two 
hundred thousand men who had recently 
been called under arms in Germany 
were fast arriving in the field. Soldiers 
swarmed in the forests and in the villages 
from this point upward to Versailles. 
The lines which had recently been thin 
were now more than necessarily strong. 
It seemed madness for the besieged to 
try and dislodge this enemy, confident 
from his long succession of victories and 
so strong iu numliers. 

On the way from La C^ucue to Bondy 
we met long trains of sick and wounded 
coming back from Orleans. Tiiere were 
several hundred wagons filled with poor 



ECRnPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



351 



fellows who seeuK'd in every stage of 
mortal illness. The melancholy train 
wound its wa^" painfully along, a few 
Uhlans riding here and there between the 
transports calmly smoking their pipes. 
Along the I'oad we observed the field- 
telegraph service of both the IJavarian 
and Prussian armies, the Prussian line 
easily distinguishable from the others 
by its black and white slender poles, 
capable of being put down with great 
lapidity ; and the Prussians did not take 
tlie trouble to give it a guard, announc- 
ing in each village that any one who 
trifled with it should be shot. The Bava- 
rians Ijuilt their lines more substantially, 
but also exercised very trifling precau- 
tions against its cutting. The lines had 
rarely been interrupted since they were 
placed. The majority of the soldiers 
whom we saw in Bondy had been before 
Metz, and were among the first to arrive 
in front of Paris from that point. They 
were usually stalwart, handsome men, 
dark-haired and fiery-eyed ; and we were 
told that they were one of the special 
prides of the Prussian army. 

We returned to Versailles by the fli'st 
line of investment part of the way, finish- 
ing our journey in the third, quite in the 
rear, where the Bavarians were stationed. 
Shortly after leaving Bondy we left the 
Second corps behind us, and on our ar- 
rival at Villeneuve St. George found 
ourselves among the members of the 
Sixth Prussian corps. At Villeneuve St. 
George the Prussians had two extem- 
porized bridges across the Seine, one of 
pontoon and the other of trestle-work, 
both capable of sustaining any weight, 
and both built in a miraculously short 
time. Here, and at Villeneuve le Roi, 
was a complete overturn of houses ; 
and I do not blame the dwellers in 
Parisian suburbs for abominating the 
Germans, whom they naturally accused 



of many excesses, which were perha|)s 
inevitable. 

On the way in we passed, at Wissous. 
a gigantic park of artillery, about two 
hundred guns, which the artillerymen 
were beginning to move. We found 
that it was not wise to a.sk questions as 
to where those gnus were going, and 
drew our own conclusions as to the 
probable commencement of the bom- 
bardment. 

In Versailles we found the customary 
programme, — funerals, serenades, horse 
exercising, patrols, concerts, and dinners 
at the Caf6 de Neptune, iu progress — 
exactly as we had left them. 

Not long after our tour around Paris 
we heard that tlie Prussians had entered 
Vendftme, and there was a rumor that 
the French were massing for another 
outbreak iu the vicinity of Champigny. 
But the attention of tlie Germans was 
concentrated on the bombardment, and 
endeavors at first made to conceal prepa- 
rations for it were the source of much 
misery for all journalists attached to the 
head-quarters. There was a momentary 
enlivening of the monotony of the life at 
Versailles by the creation of a "corre- 
spondent's iiuestion." It was brought 
about by the indiscretion of some cavalry 
men, who arrested, at Etampes, one or 
two English journalists, and a gentleman 
who happened to be a Queen's conunis- 
siouer. These worthy gentlemen were 
brought into Versailles tied with ropes, 
which ropes were attached to the saddles 
of their captors ; and they were treated 
as common spies, and ranch crowded and 
hustled by onion-breathed Teutons, until 
they were able to prove their identity. 
It was rather startling, and, at the same 
time, aniusiug, to recognize in the French 
spies whom we had been summoned to 
see these gentlemen, who were supposed 
to be perfectly well known as neutrals. 



o;)2 El' It on-: ix stukm axd calm. 

mill iirrsiiiuiyx's of distinction. jManv niindetl tinj furlouuiu'il men that death 

shai'i> criticisms JKuiny liccn [lasscd uu was still tlieir near neighbor, 

the arrogance of otiicers who had liecn The court preacher at tlie chapel that 

engaged in llu.s arrest, a personage higli morning chose for his text tiiese words : 

ill authority was sai<l to have remarked " The peace of Ciod passetli all nnder- 

tliat, if the correspondents wished to standing." lint the deputies and 

magnify the matter into one of inter- diplomats, wlio had come up from (ier- 

national impoi'tance, the simplest tiling many, although they attended tliesermou, 

would ln' to send them all away fiom ]iaid Imt little attention to it. They 

liead-iiiiarters : more<iver. that they had were Imsy with their autieipatious of the 

1ieeu indiscreet in diselosiiig to the world royal interview. The^' were mainly jolly, 

tlie wliercaliouts of tlie eaiinou whicli Ijeer-loving, rubicund men, from quiet 

were to Convince tlie Parisians of the country towns, where Paris and Ver- 

error of resistance. sailles were popularly thouglit twin gates 

Tins teapot storm was soon over, anil of Hades. There were a few noble- 

our attention was directed to the dele- looking old men, with white mustaches 

gation of members of tlie German }iar- and llowing hair, but rather awkward in 

liament, who liad come up to present comi)arison with tlie more accomplished 

addresses to King William concerning militarv men. 

the title of Emperor of ( iei'uiany, recently There was a great stniggle for equi- 

offered him, on the 10th of December, pages on tliat day, but the most dignilied 

'J'his delegation arri\ed, a motley array members had to apjK'ar iu a field post- 

of black, white, and gray, twenty wagon wagon ; and two aged and respectable 

loads of (ierman burghei's, who carried members of Parliament were convened 

their festal mien into the wards <.)f the iiit(.i the royal presence in a vehicle .so 

vei'v hos[iitals, and whose grotescjue self- much resembling a furniture-van that 

consciousness pro\oke<l bitter smiles even the oflicers laughed. There was a 

from the Fri'iich. tno well-bre(l to grand reception at the Prefecture, at 

indulge in o[ien connnent. On that which all the deimties were personally 

day I saw Count I'.ismarek in his presented to the King after the preseuta- 

earriage ; he looked ill. and seenu'd to lion of their addresses, and crowds 

liave grown ten years older iu a few gathered to sei^ the j)rinces roll away in 

days. their cai-riages, an<l Von Podbielski and 

The ISth was a gala day for the Ger- iMoltke in their helmets, stern and grave ; 

mans. Thousands of soldiers thrf)nged finally the Prefecture doors closed with 

the streets all day, and went in lelui-tantly a Iiang, and the tall sentinels liegan to 

when the orange sunset glow l.)egan to [laee back and forth, as if moved by 

tinge the west. There were music, wires. The King drove out shortly 

glitter of uniforms. |irancing of horses, afterwards, looking extremely well ; and 

and iioinp of funerals, as if Death I oliserved with some astonishment that 

liked to ]k: at the feast, grinning with numbers of Frenchmen sainted him ; 

the I'cst. Death was jireseiit in the whetiier it was because tlli' title of 

morning, with his procession of fortv Kiniieror, which Ihey knew htid just 

Collins dra|ied with white, the Tartessian been presented for his consideration, 

colors of nioiiriiing : and the rnmliling overwhelmed them, I kiKJW not. 

thundei' of the gnus iu the distance re- In the evening eighty persons sat 



ECKOI'E L\ STORM AXD CALM. 



353 



down to a dinner of great magnilicence. 
On the night of the ISth there was a 
terrific cannonading, wliieli tlie wind 
seemed to bring nearer tlian usual, and 
the deputies liad a genuine friglit. Win- 
dows rattled in Versailles. The people 
turned out in great excitement to dis- 
cover what was going on. The King, it 
was said, desired to accept the Emperor's 
diadem, but wished to run the gauntlet 
of a vote in the Chambers first. 

Winter now came in earnest. The 
great pond and fountain basins in the 
palace gardens were ice-bound. The 
otRcers had taken to their fiu' cloaks, 
and the princes, who had dawdled to and 
fro in the long avenues on their well- 
groomed horses, now scurried away to 
breakfast in the shabby hacks still left 
in Versailles. No less than six vigorous 
attempts had been made by the French 
to break out, the most signal effort ))cing 
made near the edge of the forest of 
Bondy, where the positions had received 
a wonderful strengthening since the 
Champigny fight. The artillery practice 
of the Prussian gnus in the vicinity of 
St. Cloud was exceedingly good, and 
one battery especially distinguished it- 
self. 

A few d.ays before Christmas the non- 
combatants at Versailles were treated to 
a novel sensation, to be expected in 
war time, but somewhat startling after 
the duhiess of head-quarteis" life. AVhile 
chatting quietly with a friend in his own 
apartments, in the Place Hoche, I oli- 
served the sudden appearance of a body 
of cavalry in the square, and at the same 
time the people of the bouse came run- 
ning to tell us that a l)and of soldiers 
was mounting the stairs. The officer 
in charge arrived, curt and suspicious, 
posted sentries at all tlie exits, and we 
were shortly desired to state whether or 
not we had any concealed weapons. 



Convincing the officer that we had none, 
we were released, and learned from one 
of the soldiers that they were looking 
after Francs-Tireurs ; from another, that 
weapons only were the object of the 
search ; and from a third, what proved 
to be true, that a conspiracy for a revolt 
within Versailles had been discovered, 
and that there was a general search for 
the weapons which were to have done 
the enemy damage. At almost the same 
minute in the sauie hour every house 
in the town was entered, and searched 
from cellar to garret. At the HOtel 
des Reservoirs, the head-quarters of 
hundreds of officers, correspondents, 
and diplomats, a yonng lieutenant of 
nineteen had taken charge, and told 
the rotund and ruliicnnd landlord that 
if he found anything suspicions in his 
cellar he would have him shot in his 
own ci>urt-yard. But this excessive 
wrath on the part of the lialiy officer 
only provoked a smile from the host. A 
large collection of arms was actuall}" 
found in Versailles ; and in one of the 
houses, where an old lady solemnly de- 
clared that she had never had a weapon 
of :iny kind under hei- roof, an acute 
soldier stuck his bayonet into the ceiling 
and three guns dioi)ped down. Some 
enterprising German had set on foot a 
story tliat a liand of desperadoes had 
concocted a plan to carry off the King, 
Counts Moltke and Bismarck, and all 
the other important personages, and offer 
them in exchange for immediate and 
unconditional peace. Ridiculous as this 
story seemed, it found general cre- 
dence among the rank and file of the Ger- 
mans, who professed great indignation. 
The new Landwehrsmen coming up 
from Germanj' al)Out this time were the 
best specimens of soldiers that we had 
seen. They looked as if they had been 
created by some fairy expressly for the 



KVRDVE IX ST(iI;M A.\I) CALM. 



occasion. TIktc was oul' icgiinciit u{ 
the Laudwehrsmeu of tlio (luard sla- 
tioiR'd not far from Vorsailles, in which 
the fathers owned to seven thou-^and 
and three chilih'en, a little more than 
three ai)iece. From this one may im- 
aniue tlie numlier i.if C'ini^traas-lioxes 
wiiieh had been eominy; b_v tlie field |)0.st 
for the ten days l)efore the great fc'sti- 
val. 

•' Our Octolier fires now tlieker before 
I'aris," boastfully said tlie (Jerman 
jiress, while the last ylininier <if autunni 
sunset was falling athwart tlie spires 
of NAtre D.ime. Neither German |iress 
nor iieojile expeeted tliat the Decem- 
ber lires would send up their sparks 
arnund extemporized Christmas-trees 
in tlie camps before Paris ; but, when 
it was found that the siege was to 
))e long, tile gnod wives at JKirne 
made ami)le provision for tlieir alisent 
husbands, fatliers, and lirotliers, and 
enormous trains bringing the gifts of 
love came rolling tln'ough Strasbourg 
and Nancy and Epernay, and up to 
Lagny, wheri' tliey dischargcil their 
comforting freight cver^- day into the 
provision wagons, which moved with 
the same discipline that marked the 
conduct of the whole army. The result 
was, that, liy the arrival of Christmas- 
tide, the tliousands upon thousands of 
Gerinuus were provided with the ma- 
terial for the same festivities that they 
would have held at home. 

The chorus of the guns of Paris on 
Christmas Eve was superb. Through 
the clear, frosty air the grand baying 
and barking of the dogs of war echoed 
so loudly that it almost drowned the 
chorals of the jolly AVeinnacht songs 
that tlie few Germans who had been 
allowed to leave their regiments and 
dine at head-(iuarters were [lermitted 
to sing. Parties of oflieers who had 



InH-n ]icrmitted to leave their bad food 
and wretched lodgings in the deserted 
towns around the besieged capital 
came in to thaw out over bottles of wine 
or bowls oi punch. Few, if any, boast- 
ful allusions were made in these parties 
to the victories gained over the French. 
The stout Laudwelir regiments in the 
neighlioi'hood, wliicli had as many Christ- 
mas-trees as companies, had their |)res- 
ents distrilaited by the hands of tlieir 
officers. The festivities were simple 
and hearty. A large room in some de- 
serted h(.)use was chosen for each com- 
pany, and there the tree was placed and 
the caiulles were lighted ; songs and 
recitations made n|i the fialanee of the 
entertainment. Jlost of the soldiers 
at the (lutiiosts had wine to drink. In 
town the day was celebrated at the 
Prefecture and at tlie residence of the 
Crown I'rince. At the King's there 
were two Christmas-trees, and some of 
the [iresents given and received by the 
royal family were of great value. The 
Crown Prince distriljuted the gifts from 
his tree with his own hands. Much 
gossip was excited l.iy tlie absence of 
the Duke of .Saxe Coliurg from the 
assembly of the other royal personages, 
lie was the only exee))tiou, and the 
gossi[is attributed it to various causes, 
aiiKing others to the fact that lie ba<l 
made unjileasaiit remarks concerning 
the conduct of the Saxons in the Cham- 
pigny fight ; while others claimed that 
he was moping, liecaiise there had once 
been talk of making him Emperor of 
Geiniaiiy, and that now the crown had 
[lassed forever from his grasfi. He 
was in coiiimand. liki' Pisniarek, of a 
regiment of cuirassiers, but was little 
with it. 

The (inly thing which broke the se- 
renity of the next day in the town was 
the wailinir of militarv bauds as the 



EUROPE IX STOliM AND CALM. 



O'llit 



dead from the hospitals were borne to 
their graves. On the eveuiiig of tlie 
2.5th there were, of course, dinners and 
feasting, despite the fact tliat tlie French 
had been swarming by Bougival, and 
that the cauooii Lad si)olveu thnnder- 
ously all day. 

Witliiu the great park one of the most 
singular sights was the sport of the gayly 
uniformed soldiers on the newly made, 
but firm, ice ou the caual. Hundreds of 
otHcers, who had sent to Germany for 
their skates, or who had found some in the 
town, w'ere frolicking like \-cry boys ou 



the ice. This canal is one of the chief 
beauties of Versailles, and when it is 
frozen it makes a magniticent skating 
jiark. It is nearly five thousand feet 
long, and about two hundred feet wide. 
Louis XIV. often transformed it into a 
Venetian scene in summer, and had some- 
times as many as two huudred gondolas, 
illuminated with glass lamps of all colors 
upon it. Here, too, lie had his artificial 
sunsets, his gigantic fireworks, and his 
mimic sea-fights ; and in winter, when the 
weather was sharp enough, he aped 
Russian splendor. 



356 EURorE IN STURM AXD CALM. 



CHAPTER THI RTY-EIGHT. 

"The Point of View." — The CainiiMimi in tlie .South. — The Fliantoin ^foliilo. — Xcw Year's D.iy. — 

.ScoiK- at liie I'alaci'. — Tlio I'minharihiuMit ot" I'ari-^. — liL-twooii tho Fii\-> in Front of Fort Issy. — 
In the Battorits. — (_"oruiiatitnl ul' Ivinn \\'illianl of Pnls^ia us Einporol- ol' ( iernKiny at Vcfsaillcs. 

THI-] oiil vctif unit (lUt ill till' luiilst iiis tirst wtillv over tlic lii'ld of lieauueiicy. 

(if ;il;iniis tiiid ilisiipiiointed lu)i)0.s He stiid tliat piies of fro/.eii corpses, 

fur till' ui]li;i|i|iy Frciicii ol' \'ers;iilles, scattL'ri'<l liitlicr ;ind yon, iiniircssi'd liim 

tiiid oiuiiin tilid iiitfiisi; suH'i'iiiit;' fur tile even more tlian did tlie iii'oans and 

iiiindreds of tlioiisand.s of tiie iiesietied slirielvs of tlio^e wlio were stiil iivinii, and 

witiiin tlie wtills of Paris. It was liit- to wlioiu no lielp eould lie given for 

teriy eold in Dei/cinljcr. Tlie environs lionrs. While [lassino- a heap of Moliilc 

of Paris are rniclv vi-ited hv a lii'avy (Jiiards, wlm had evidently l>een killed 

snow fall, out the snow r:\-\w with the till at onee, tiiid netirly every one of 

war and the sieoc, as if no source of whom w;is vigoronsly grasping his giin, 

miscrv were to he k-ft untried. he saw one handsome fellow lying so 

When thf Hist snow fell, a French fpiietly pallid in the eold moonlight that 

friend of mine, in Veisailles, said, he w;is tempted to tipproacli tiiid note 

"Thank (lod for this! It will kill tlion- his rank. It w;is a yoinig soldier, liold- 

stiiid^ of the ( icrmans ! " That afti'nioon, ing in his stiffened htind a gnn hdielled 

during a ridi' to the outposts, I saw a '• N.Y. U.S.A." He .said that he removed 

stout Ltindwehisiiian hugging himself the cap from the corpise's head, ;ind, un- 

witli joy. and saying. ■• Thtiiik CJod for elinehing the eold fingers, took the gun, 

this cletir, cold weather I Xmn we can and carrieil away these souvenirs to 

work." \'ersailles. He allii'ined seriously that. 

In this, as in so many other cases, for live nights afterwtirds, lie was awa- 

the " point of view " was everything. k"eneil regularly, at the same hour, by 

There was rough liusiness in the South, the grtisp of a relentless hand upon his 

Huge amlinlaiKa' trains went i.>ut every arm, tinil felt that he wtis struggling with 

morning towtirds Orleans, and along the an invisible force. '• It was," he said, 

line of march toutirds Beaugeuey. In "•the dead (Jarde Moliile trying to get 

all the little towns on the route we saw his gnu back tigain ! 

sights which made the blood curdle. The Havaritins were said to have lost 

Both French and Germans had perislied thirty thousand men out of an army corps 

bv hundreds, f ,\- hick of priiper ctire. which went into the southern ctniipaign 

The (b'rmtui sisters from the liavaritm thirl\-five thousand strong. This was 

Catholic c<invenls <lid much to alleviate doubtless exaggerated, lint the uiorttdity 

the sufferings of th<jus:inils of |ioor was tremendous. The .South German 

wretches. We saw men who wei'c half .States suffered hetivily in losses of both 

frozen from exposure <.)ver-iiiglit on the oflicers and soldiers. The IJavarituis, in 

battle-field, and I slitill not soon forgd ftict, as a lighting cor|is, seemeil to htive 

an anecdote which a friend told me of been pretty well blotted out at one time ; 



ECROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



aov 



and when alUisiou was made to the fact 
that G-eneral Voa der Taun had gone to 
the support of some other army, the 
Prussians were puzzled to know whether 
it meant that he had gone alone or taken 
the tiny remains of his legions with him. 

But the Bavarians took death as they 
took life, very easily, and it is to he saiti 
for them tiiat they bore with strength 
and i)atienco a comliination of ills which 
would have killed h'ss sturdy and more 
fastidious men. 'l"he French constant!}' 
accused them of ferocity and cruelty, and 
these stories doubtless arose fi'oni the 
merciless repression of Francs-Tireurs, 
or the peasants who, without thinking it 
necessary to join the regular soldiery, 
took their guns in their hands and de- 
feuded their homes. It seems clear that 
dozens of these men were shot in cold 
blood, simply as examples, during the 
campaign round about Orleans. It was 
woe to the unlucky blue blouse seen 
behind a looi)-holed w;dl or at a third- 
story window. The French took occasion 
to massacre a large number of Bavarians, 
whom they found in a tight place, not 
long after this practice of shooting the 
Francs-Tireurs began ; and it was an- 
nounced at Versailles that General 
Chanzy had said at Le Mans that he 
would give no qnarter to the enemy. 

New Year's Day at head-quarters passed 
quietly enough. Several hundred officers 
came into the old town from the various 
commands around Paris, and made up 
little parties, celebrating in the clumsy, 
but humorous, German way the advent 
of the new twelvemonth. In tiie Cafe 
de Xeptune, jnst at midnight, tiiere was 
a great gathering of these ofKcers. and 
as tlie clock on the marlile mantel struck 
twelve, the oldest of the company arose, 
aud, filling all glasses from a bowl 
of steaming punch, said, '•'Gentlemen, 
brother otiicers, it is just twelve o'clock." 



Then all cried out : " Long live the New 
Year ! " and a general hand-shaking 
followed. Some insisted on bonnet- 
ing their friends, remembering that in 
Germany, if you are caught in the street 
after twelve on New Year's Eve, you are 
likely to have j'our hat smashed over 
your eyes. 

.Just as the festivities at the Crowu 
Prince's quarters were at their height, 
aud the Crowu Prince had risen to wel- 
come in the youthfnl year, the hoarse 
roar of a far-off salute broke the silence. 
There had been but little cannonading 
during the day, and when this sud- 
den boom of the cannon was heard Ijy 
the German officers they involuntaril}' 
looked for their swords, and then looked 
at each other. But no sortie was taking 
pl.ace. The salute which was just upon 
the stroke of midnight was the funeral 
salvo which Paris was firing over the 
grave of the disnstrous year. For miles 
aronnd, the twelve double-shotted volleys 
were heard ; and then there was silence 
again. 

The officei's made grand toilettes for 
New Year's Day. and called to pay com- 
pliments to the King aud their respective 
generals in the early morning. New 
regiments of clean, and, as yet, untried, 
soldiers cams' marching in before dawn, 
and the Versaillais had for their eZ/'Ofoes 
of the new year a lilieral supply of live 
aud hungry Prussians. I was invited to 
breakfast on this morning of January 1st 
witl) a French lawyer of distinction, who 
lived in a comfortable Louse in the Place 
Iloclie, and at eleven o'clock I knocked at 
his hospitable door, and was received with 
a smiling face. 

"Let us," said my host. " make an 
ett'ort to forget the circumstances in 
which we are placed, and celebrate the 
advent of the year with something like 
joy." 



358 



EI:R01'E in SrOKM AXD CALM. 



He led tlie way to the diuing-rooin, 
where the siunvv cloth of the great round 
table was loaded with sparkling glasses, 
with fat bottles in wicker baskets, with 
fruit, with cordials, and witii a goodly 
array of family silver. This was a 
tempting sight to one who had been for 
weeks aeenstomed to tlje meagre fare 
of the restaurants of Versailles and the 
camps near by ; for it must not be sup- 
posed that good food was easily obtain- 
able attlie German head-quarters towards 
the close of the siege. It was almost 
impossible to get it. 

But the gods were unkind on tliis the 
first day of the new year, and we were 
scarcely seated opposite each other at 
table when the door-bell rang and the 
servant, returning with a white face, said, 
"A Prussian." My host's face was white, 
too, but he was too well-bred to make 
anyrcraark. He arose and left the room, 
presently returning with a tall, elegantly 
uniformed, distinguished-looking German 
otlicer, who made the stiff military salute 
to which we were so well accustomed, 
and apologized for what was, he said, the 
" unwilling intrusion." But he had been 
very anxious to see the old palace liefore 
the campaign was over, and had obtained 
this day a leave of absence, and his billet 
had sent him here for breakfast and din- 
ner. Would the gentlemen excuse him ? 
And here, my friend, making a virtue of 
necessity, placed him a chair at the table ; 
and, daintily removing his white gloves, 
the officer sat down. 

It was an icy moment, and one which 
awoke all my sympathy for mine host; 
but we made the best of the situation, 
the German even disclosing a partial 
t.alent for English and naturally avoiding 
all mention of current events. Thi^ lireak- 
fast was eaten, the wine was drunk in 
cool and stately civility, and the officer, 
who was a gentleman, and possessed of 



rare tact, did not wait for coft'ce and 
cigars, but excused himself and |)olitely 
departed. 

Knowing the French temperament, I 
waited with interest the ex]ilosion which 
I felt must come ; and, after the Prus- 
sian had closed the doorliehiud him, and 
gone jingling down the stairs, my friend 
caught up the glass, the plate, the liottle 
from which he had drank, and threw 
them, crashing, into a corner ; then sat 
down with a pitiful face, and burst into 
tears. It was hard and cruel to bear, 
no doubt ; but his trials were as naught 
beside those of the besieged '• out there 
beyond," as he said, and, regaining his 
calm, he hoped for better days. 

The Prussians made lil)eral use of the 
old palace of Louis XI\'. for their 
stately ceremonies ; and on this New 
Year's Day, in the Salle des Glaces, all 
the nobles of Germany gathered to- 
gether. The venerable King seemed to 
enjoy his visits to the palace on such 
occasions, and after the receptions at 
the Prefcctun^ he and his brilliant 
corteije attended service at the chaiicl. 
The King was made uncomfortable by a 
very vigorous preacher, who insisted that 
monarchs often erred on the side of 
leniency'. We interpreted this to mean 
that the Germans at home were getting 
impatient to hear details of the horrors 
of the bombardment. But when we 
said this to tiie Germans whom we 
knew, they were highly indignant. 

Amid the relics of France's ancient 
splendor an assembly crowded to hear 
the King's address. There, where all 
the wealth of Le Brnn's coloring had 
been liestowed on the portrayal of the 
great monarch's glories ; where the pJa- 
foiid was covered with sneli painted 
flattery that even Frenchmen blushed at 
the vanity nf one of their race; there, 
where J^ouis once had his throne lirought, 



KVROrE IN HTORM AXD CALM'. 



359 



that he might sit upon it as the ambas- 
sador of the King of Persia sank on his 
knees before liiin, now stood the King of 
Prussia in full general's uniform, with the 
Crown Prince, the Prince Friedrich Karl, 
with the cliief admiral of the navy. 
Prince Adelbert. The scene was one of 
dazzling splendor, an<l the Piiissian 
uniforms harmonized well 
with the gilding and the 
rainbow colors of the 
royal palace. The floor, 
inlaid with rare and finelj* 
labored woods, so that 
the effect of light and 
shade upon it is to make 
it look like the surface of 
a transparent pond, or 
some delicately tessellated 
marble pavement in a Ro- 
man church, — this floor 
fairly startled some of the 
Prussians who had never 
before entered the iiall, 
and they seemed to be 
uncomfortable lest their 
dainty boots should be 
wetted. Oue or two of 
them went sprawling, for 
waxed [larquets are diffi- 
cult to walk u]>on. Out- 
side, trumpets brayed, gay 
horses pranced, and court- 
ly men bowed low as 
the future P^mperoi- left 
the Palace after having 
listened to compliments from the hun- 
dreds of courtiers and foreign diiilo- 
mats present. In the evening, at the 
dinner at the Prefecture, the Orand Duke 
of Baden made a speech, in which he 
alluded to the Imperial Crown, which, 
as Frederick William IV. had said, 
should only be worn on the field of 
battle. 

The " psychological moment " had at 



last arrived. The natives of Versailles 
kept asking each other : How aljout the 
bombardment? Why does it not com- 
mence? But it had already commenced, 
and the Prussians had liegnu their 
steady task of reducing the outworks of 
the capital. The Germans, from the first, 
expected an increase of losses on their 




THE FRENCH TROOPS ABANDOXINCi 
PLATEAU AT AVROX. 



TIIE 



own side when 
they attacked 
the a n g r y 
forts, and a 
day or two 
after the first 
cannon were 
fired from the 
a d \ a n c e d 
Prussian bat- 
teries, a thousand a<lditional h()S[)ital 
beds were ordered in Versailles. The 
sileuce of Forts Ilosny, Noisy, Ivo- 
mainville, and Aubervilliers, after the 
reduction of JMont Avron, was much 
coniuiented on, and the Prussians were 
mystified by it. The Germans did not 
reject as entirely ridiculous the state- 
ment that the forts might be mined, and 
it might be a very costly experiment to 



360 



EVUOrE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



nssfiult ami oeeupv them. P.y aud by 
the batteries which tlio Saxous had been 
buihling ou tlie crests of Ealucy liegan 
to i)hiy iipou the forts. The Saxons 
intended to accomplish a donlile purpose 
at once, — to disorganize the advance forts 
near them hx a regular ))onibardnient by 
tlieir batteries on the right, and to rain 
down shells from tlie plain of Avri>n on 
tiie left, so tiiat tlie French conld not 
maintain their outworks. The batteries 
at Chelles, Noisy, La I'elouse, and other 
points near by, crosse<l their fires at 
Avion : and it seemed a perfect Inferno 
on the plains for some hours. 

The French had been constructing a 
luige entrenched camp here, but their 
plans were broken u[) by this furious 
sliell fire (.)f the Saxims. Avron was very 
strongly fortified, particularly towards 
the east. There the French had three 
rows of batteries, "Uc aliove the other, 
and many of the cannon were of enor- 
mous calil:)rc. The stillness of Forts 
Noisy and Kosuy, after the retreat 
from jVvron, was regarded by the Prus- 
sians ;is a conclusive proof that the siege 
was near its end. " If," they said, " we 
could occupy those forts, we could very 
soon send shells into Belleville and La 
Villette." 

From New Year's Day until the great 
nortic iif IMontretout, the cannonading 
was aluKist incessant. Everyday lirought 
its alarm ; every day its picturesque 
event ; every day. for ns, its hmg ride or 
walk to the batteries or to little coigns 
of vantage, from which we could see 
something nf the tremendous final oi)er- 
atioM of the siege. Kiding towards Issy 
one morning, and looking out over Paris, 
we saw tall black columns of smoke 
rising apparently to the Triumphal Arch. 
The arch towered upi, mistily defined in 
the distance, and with a field-glass we 
conld observe the construction on its top 



which the Prussians called an iron-clad 
fort. Hut [iresently we saw that the 
smoke was not within Paris walls. It 
seemed in direct line with the Arch, but 
was caused by the Imrning of the village 
of Boulogne, fi]iiiosite St. Cloud, on the 
Seine bank. A\'ith the field-glass we 
could see trains crowded with soldiers or 
the double-decked ears rattling along the 
C'einture railway, and being transferred 
to the eastern side. Crash came defiant 
notes from Issy, and presently noises 
were heard above our heads. The Prus- 
sian rirted camion were throwing shells, 
and we could track their course. Sud- 
denly they would become small as birds, 
and then lost to view. Once we saw 
three alight in Fort Issy at once. There 
was a silence among the French gunners 
for some nunutes ; then the angry defi- 
ance ])egan again, and we were com- 
pelled hastily to shift our jjosition. 

The Crerman gunners were determined 
to hit the great viaduct, which stood 
so prominent and tempting a mark just 
outside the walls of Auteuil ; liut they 
never succeeded. I was told at the 
close of the siege that the Parisians 
went every Sunday to make excursions 
along the circular railway to this viaduct, 
which was covered with trains, from 
which thousands of peo|ile were endeav- 
oring to get a glance at the Prussians, 
none of tlieiu having the sliglitest fear 
of the Teutonic iirojectilcs. 

Between one of the priiaap-d Prussian 
batteries and Fort Issy, quite in the open, 
stood a house, always held !>y a certain 
number of stout-hearted soldiers, and 
serving as an obcrvation post for otHcers. 
This was not a tranquil place, for the 
Prussian shells went whizzing and moan- 
ing above one's head, and once every 
minute came the whirring response from 
the French embrasures. If the gunners 
in Issv had desired to shorten their range 



EUROPE IX STOR.tr AXD CALM. 



361 



ami let fall a shower of missiles on this 
house they could do so at any moment. 
But they preferred to expend tlieir fire 
upon the battery Ijeyond, and so oue 
was perhaps safer lietvveen the fires than 
he could possibl}' have been either in 
fort or battery. 

Here we came one morning, and nar- 
rowly escaped being shot liy the excited 
soldier at the door before we could siiow 
our permission, and before we could 
make ourselves heard by an officer, Init 
fiualh' we were admitted. I was struck 
with the coolness of the commanding 
officer at this difficult post. He had the 
veritable si^irit of a Brandenburg pirate ; 
and while the shells were crashing above 
and around he opened a bottle of wine, 
and invited us to partake, telling, mean- 
time, with pride how his soldiers had re- 
ceutly made the discovery of several 
hundred bottles of ChiUeau Mai-gaux 
lu oue cellar. "Your Bavarian," he 
said, with a smile, "has an antiquarian 
taste in wine, and we can always trust 
him to pro])e the cellars of tlie chdtcaux 
around." 

This officer looked upon war, by his 
own confession, as a brilliant episode in 
life, one which called out the best of a 
man's energies, and he saw no reason to 
quarrel with it as abnormal or cruel. He 
had the veritable Prussian training, the 
hard-hearted, sceptical way of looking 
at things in accordance with his own 
system and that of his race, of consider- 
ing everything reasonable and proper 
which suited his own ends. As for out- 
siders, gare la homhp '. 

On the 13th of January we were told 
that twenty-six German batteries had 
l)eeu playing until late in the evening 
upon various quarters of Paris. The 
Bavarians were attacked by the French 
early in the day ; but the enemy was 
repelled. Eumor said that the French 



had swarmed out over the bridge fif Bas 
Meudon at early morning, but while 
they were crossing, the Prussian bat- 
teries opened a deadly fire npon them, 
and tlie bridge giving way precipitated 
a large number of soldiers into the 
Seine. 

Inside Paris the vigorous bombard- 
ment which was now covering a wide 
district on the left bank of the Seine 
was producing its sad effect. The 
H6pital de la Pitie was riddled with 
bomlishells on the night of the 8tli of 
January from the heights of ChatiUon 
and from Meudon. The Prussians 
seemed deliberately bombarding the 
venerable public institutions of the great 
capital, — the hospitals, the churches, the 
colleges, universities, the schools of 
medicine and art. 

It was not strange that a cry went up 
through all Euroi)e, a cry of horror and 
reproach, and that it almost startled the 
Germans into a change of policy. 

But they soon became im|)ervioug 
to criticism. They pleaded the impe- 
rious necessity of war as an excuse for 
bombarding the vast city crowded with 
helpless women and ciiildren ; so they 
sent shells in showers for two mouths 
into one of the most thickly populated 
sections of Paris. The church ot St. 
Sulpice, the Sorbonue, the Val de Grace, 
were all struck by shells. In a school in 
the Rue de Vaugirard four children 
were killed and five wounded by a 
single shell. The Luxembourg Museum 
was evacuated. The physicians of the 
hospital of the Enfants Malades issued 
a protest, declaring that the innocent 
children would be slain in their beds. 
The authorities at the .Jardin des Plautes 
voted an inscription to be engraved on 
one of the buildings of their celebrated 
nuiseuui. stating that the garden founded 
bv Louis XIII. had been bombarded 



Ki 



ErRdl'E IX STORM A.\D CALM. 



uiidcr the reigu of Williani I., Kiiii; (if 
Prussia. 

Ill the eelhirs of Mouti-ougo were 
hundreds of frightened refugees. To 
tlie great vaults of the historic Pantlieon 
came tiie living to crowd beside the 
n(3ted di'ad, who were there entombed ; 
and, during the wliole twenty-live days 
of the bombartlmeut. a terrible period 
which there is no si^ace properly to 
describe here, every day brought its 
liorror and its saerillee of human life. 

Meantime old Fort Issy, which had 
been so conspicuous from the ijrst, kept 
up its reputation. It was inspiring to 
witness the defense of this place. The 
marine artillery was there submitted to 
an almost crushing tire from the CJerman 
batteries, and held out from lirst to last 
magnilicently under tlie plunging shells 
from Clamart, from Clultillou, from Men- 
don. These marines, after their casemates 
had been smashed into muddy fragments 
and the stones liad been all knocked 
about by bombs, would drag out their 
fifteen cannons, hitching themselves to 
the pieces, and tugging them forward, 
firing, screaming like savages as they 
fired, then dragging back their guns 
under the shelter of the half-dismantled 
jiarapets. In this fort of Issy one hun- 
dred men were killed, and a great 
number were wounded liy shells, and of 
four hundred who fell ill of cold, Inuiger. 
and want of sleep, three-quarters died 
sliortly after the capitulation. 

liy the time of the eomjiletion of the 
second parallel in front of Fort Issy all 
the non-combatants at Versailles who 
wereallowed the privilege of goingoutside 
the towns were intensely interested in the 
great duel lietween the German besiegers 
and these vigorous defenders of their 
position. The desperate energy of the 
marines in Issy led gradually up to tlie 
eonelnsimi that all the forts were holding 



out ill expectation of a grand .lortle, 
which would bathe closing effort of the 
siege, and perhaps of the war. This feel- 
ing was in the air on the morning of the 
1 9tli, which had been selected as a date for 
the ceremony of King William's accept- 
ance of the Imperial dignity conferred 
upon him by the Clerman nations, now 
to be welded and unified into one, and 
under the iiitlueiici' of their ancient tradi- 
tion to accept an emiiire as the tyiie of 
their new community. Some of the Prus- 
sian otlicers were heard to say, on the 
morning of the lIHli, that it was a good 
thing to get the ceremony over, as there 
would be shar[i work shortlj'. There 
was, indeed, sliar|) work two days later, 
when the great outpouring of iMontretout 
took place; but alas! it was not des- 
tined to profit the I-'"'rench who wasted 
their heroism in vain efforts against the 
ever-re-streugtheni'd line of the eiieniy. 
The day selected was notewoilhy in 
Prussian minds for three things : first, for 
being the anniversary of the crowning of 
Frederick the Great ; sccoikI, the liirth- 
day of the eldest child of the Crown 
Prince; and third, as " Oi'<Ier Day," 
when all princes .-ind officers decorated 
on previous occasions for conspicuous 
gallanti'v are wont to p;iss before tfieir 
roval master in review and receive iiis 
felieitafions. Here, indeed, was an oppor- 
tunity for a fine ])ageant, and one which 
might have roused the pride and vain- 
glory of a nation more susceptible of 
vanity than the German. Despite the 
a.]>preliensions of coming slaughtei', the 
recent victories in the south and tlie 
apparent success in other sections of 
France had put the helineted warriors in 
a good humor with themselves, and so 
tiiey seemed to give themselves ui) to 
enjoynieiit. 

The day was a sti'ange mixture of 
damp and cold, with occasional gleams 



FA'ROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



363 



of warm sunshine, the rain coming down, 
as it were, to weep over the dead, and 
then the sun chasing away the tears as 
unworthy of so great an occasion. 
Towards ten o'cloolv a brilliant throng 
began to assemble in the court-yard of 
the palace, and increased steadily in 
brilliancy and volume until the stroke 
of twelve, when the King, preceded 
by guards and outriders, drove to the 
doors of the great middle hall, enter- 
ing the court-yard from the Rue des 
Reservoirs. About eleven I found drawn 
up in line the King's liody guard, taken 
from all the best regiments of the aimy, 
and glittering in a hundred colors, 
strongly contrasted. Thronging past 
these lines of warriors were the invited 
guests of higher rank, hastily returning 
the salutations of hundreds of hands 
embodying with accustomed servility 
the expression of their humbleness. 
Many of the Bavarian and Wurtcmburg 
officers had for the first time got out 
their gala uniforms, which had so long 
been packed in camp-chests that they 
were all creased, and even soiled and tar- 
nished, and some of the stately gentle- 
men of the German court presented a 
rather sorry figure. The Bavai'iau sol- 
diers were, for a wonder, especially 
line in their bright-blue uniforms and 
shining helmets, and some of the officers 
were men of majestic presence. The 
Saxons were, as usual, spotless in raiment. 
The gigantic men of the Guard corps 
stalked about in their white uniforms 
and jack-boots. The dark-haired, stal- 
wart Brandenbnrger ; the Berlincrs, 
with spectacles on nose ; the strap- 
ping cavalry men, with iron crosses on 
their breasts ; and the slender youths, 
with long hair combed liack under 
their casques, and swords buckled on 
their slender thighs, — all hastened 
to the hall where the greatest Prus- 



sian ceremony of modern times was to 
occur. 

Around the statue of Louis XIV. a 
curious crowd of civilians and soldiers 
had gathered, and the yfiiidaniws had 
allowed them to remain there. Few 
French people were present. A crazy 
old woman ran hither and yon for some 
time, cursing evei'vbody and l)egging 
from everybody ; but her curses and 
entreaties passed comparatively unno- 
ticed in the greater excitement of the 
moment. An odd spectacle was the 
pedestal of the statue of Bayard, with a 
lot of Prussian soldiers sitting dangling 
their legs from it. One could almost 
imagine the old hero looking with scorn 
upon the enemies below him. Two lines 
of soldiers — boys, but superb figures, 
perfectly trained boys — were formed in 
the squares in the vicinity of tlie en- 
trance of the Salle des G laces, and there 
military bands were stationed to salute 
the coming King. The German Ijanner, 
we observed, was now floating where 
latterly the red-cross flag alone had 
Iteen seen above the portico of the palace. 
The wounded soldiers crowded to the 
windows to see the spectacle, and their 
pale faces were the only vision of war 
which thrust its ghastly presence upon us. 

Presently the guests began to arrive 
pellmell. There was not much attempt 
at glory of equipage, .as in campaigning 
it is difficult to obtain good carriages. 
Von Moltke came in a jiost-carriage 
which was splashed with mud ; Von r>is- 
marck in a little aileche. to which two 
diminutive ponies were attaclied ; the 
Crown Prince in his modest coijn'' : and 
dozens of officers in full toilette were 
caught in a pouring shower, which sud- 
denly visited us. Half-a-dozen [irinces 
would dash up in an omnibus, which they 
had happily discovered at the last mo- 
ment ; and the historic furniture-van, 



3fi4 



EUROPE JX STOirV A.\r> CALM. 



wliicli ]ihiy(.'(l such an iiiipoi-tniit ;'o/c in 
tilt- transportntioii of iintciitatos, inilitaiT 
ami iiiililieal, in Vei>ailk'fi, again came 
into plav. (ircat precautions were taken 
for the safi'ty of the Iving. .Stout soi- 
iliers wanilereil carelessly alwnt in the 
ci'owtl, liut with their gnus held as a 
huntsman holds his when he hears tiie 
deer lireaking covei'. How did the 
Prustiians know how far French fanati- 
cism might venture? It only went far 
enongh. to njy knowledge, mysteriou^ly 
to suggest that the last time that a 
ffieat public gatheriu"' was held in the 
.Salle des Glaccs it had been found ne<'- 
cssarv to [irop the floor, so weak with 
age it had become. But we may fairly 
presume that the Gei'mans, with their 
talent for investigation, had carefully 
examined the parcjuet of the time of 
Louis XIV. rrinee George of Saxony 
was one of the most noticeable in the 
crowd of notables : and around him was 
a brilliant assemblage of otlieers. 

All along the Avenue <le Paris and the 
Place d'Arnies. as the King canu' rattling 
from the Pi-efeetiu'e to the jialacc. arose 
deafening shouts of " Hurrah for the 
iMuperor I " The guard along the gran<l 
staircase which K'd to the Salle des 
CUaees was composed of picked men 
from the various icgimeuts around Paris. 
AMsibly affected liy the maguili<-eut sih'c- 
taele Ix'fore him. the old King wandered 
into the great room like oiu> scarcely 
daring to beliexc that llie spleiidoi-s 
before hiui were real ; and during the 
whole ceremony he was profoumUy 
nio\(Ml, and listened with the air of one 
siu'prised, and conlinuallv (|uestioning 
himself as to wluit it all nu'ant. 

One hundred and sex'enty years before 
Frederick I. had put .>n the crown des- 
tined to such promiuiiice in histoi-y. 
As King "William entered the hall where 
Louis XI\^ had been wont to receive his 



courtiei's. he must have reflected a mo- 
ment on the nmiability of human great- 
ness and on the future of the country 
with which he as an f)ld man could have 
but little to do. Solemnly to acce|)t the 
German crown when he could not swear 
long to uphold the Empire even by his 
sword and word must have seemed to 
him like mockery. To place it on his 
brows at the end instead of the beginning 
of his long and stately career, as he 
paused lie fore the gate of Paris, about 
to enter that great caiiital for the second 
time as a victor, could not, however, 
have been without a certain consolation. 

In tliemidille of the grand hall, and with 
its liack to the windows o[)ening on tiie 
park, an altar was erected. Upon this 
altar, gracefully decorated, lighted can- 
dles were placc<l. and at each side sat 
three jiastors, clothed in the sombre 
habiliments of their order, and symbol- 
izing (he support of the C'liurch to the 
new Fmpire. Farther down the hall 
was anotlicr and smaller altar, and in 
front of this weie arranged the standards 
of all the regiments of the third army. 
Petween the two altars were l)laced 
l>a\ariaus and other soldiers. In front 
of the principal altai' were several sol- 
diers, who had. in times past or in recent 
campaigns, received two iron crosses, and 
two of them had llieir heads bomul up. 
and showed other mai'ks of ugly w<:unds. 
(Ju the jilatform at the farther cud of 
the gallery many soldiers were stationed 
u|ilioldiug standards. 

The King was pret'cdcd by the mar- 
shal of his household and the court mar- 
shal, the Counts of I'ueklen and Per- 
lioncher. and followed by Prince (leorge 
of Saxony, the reigning Duke of Saxe 
C'oburg, and the majority of the heredi- 
tary |irinces. Reside these, as they 
took theii- places in front of the grand 
idtar. were also the Crowu Prince, 



EUROPE LV STflR.V AXD CALM. 



3(i5 



Prince Charles of Prussin, the King's 
brother and Graud ^Master of tlie Order 
of St. John of Jerusalem, the Grand 
Dukes of Saxo Weimar, Oldenburg, and 
Baden, the Duive of .Saxe Meiningen, 
the Duke of Saxe Altenburg. Princes 
Luitpold and Otho of Bavaria, Prince 
William and Duke Eugene of Wurtem- 
burg, Leopold of Hohenzollern, who had 
unwittingly jirovoked tiie war, and the 
Duko of Holstein. The old King, bolt 
upright, and from time to time gazing 
with childlike curiosity upon the scene, 
listened intently to the sermon which one 
of the preachers now delivered with 
much grace and eloquence. The sermou 
touched upon the historic and religious 
character of the cereuiony now in prog- 
ress, and endeavored to describe its 
mysterious intiuenoe on the hearts of 
the German nation. It was a fine 
tribute as well to the new subject of ado- 
ration, the venerable hero soldier; and 
the King was deeply affected by it. 

Von Bismarck and Von Moltke mean- 
time, one on each side of the platfdrm, 
winked sleepily and wickedly, and 
seemed inwardly much amused at all 
this parade. General Blumenthal, also 
near at hand, with the commanding gen- 
erals and ofHcers of all grades grouped 
about him, was grimly silent, and ap- 
peared to consider the whole thing a 
waste of time. In long rows down each 
.side of the gallery were the distin- 
guished military and civil personages 
from all nations of Europe. 

The sermon finished, a general buzz 
of congratulation was just spriiiiiing up 
in the hall wiien the King suddenly 
advanced to the platform, and there, 
surrounded by the standard-bearers of 
the first Guard regiment, he pronounced 



Ills addres.s to the princes, in which he 
declared his intention of accepting the 
Imperial German Crown. After he had, 
with faltering voice, finished his vow, 
Bismarck advanced tranquilly to read 
the i)roclamation to the German people. 
This was, so far as liismarck was con- 
cerned, the culmination of the war; the 
unification of the German peoiile undi'r 
the rule of one man was accomplisheil. 
No » onder such a gigantic task had made 
a diplomat already ripe in years look 
almost as old as his master. 

After the reading of the proclamation 
the Grand Duk(! of Baden, who seemed 
to have been adopted as spokesman on 
most occasions, hailed the King as Em- 
peror of Germany. A three-times-three 
awoke the echoes which h.ad been lying 
perdu for two centuries, and the Crown 
Prince hastened to embrace his father 
and affectionately to grasp his liand. 
His example was followed by all the 
members of the Royal Family and all 
the iirinces and dukes present. Wlh n 
the ceremony was finisiied, there were 
tears on the old Kinti's face, and many 
of the lookers-on weie visibly moved. 
Amid the waving of standards, flags 
which had been in all the early battles 
of the present war, and the echoes of 
the national hymn and triumphal 
marches, the brilliant assembly broke 
up and drove a\v.-iy in its hundreds of 
carriages, sijlendid and shabby, to the 
task of eating the dinner in celebration 
of '' Orders Day." At tiie IIAtel des 
Reservoirs and other fashional)le res- 
taurants there was riotous merriment, 
and the word " Kaiser" echoed through 
the street, and in all jjlaces where uni- 
forms were visible, until long past mid- 
night. 



30() EVROl'E IX STORM AXD CALM. 



CHAPTER TIIIETY-XIXE. 

Bourliaki and Belfort. — The Finiil Snrtif of the French. — Moutretout. — The Panic in Versailles. — 
Tiie Treaty for Peace. — The Kml of the Siege of Paris. 

WHEliE is 15oiirliaki?" was a fiv- battk' to the Erench at Pont-Noyelk's 

iliicnt question at the Germau ami :it ])a|)aiiiiic. wlieri- tlierc was a 

head-qiiai'ters in the days just before tlie great slaiioiiter of (ierinaii stuiadroiis 

great Hglit :it Moiitretout. A certain and cavtilry, and wliere Faidlierlie, witli 

portion of the army under his coiinnaiid reas(ji:, chiiiued success; lull the closing 

seemed to be lost sight of, and caused tlie of most of the northern fortresses by the 

Germans no little uneasiness. The first ( ieniiaii army \v:ts fnially successful, 

siege of Belfort had been checked liy The .Seventh cori)s l)esieged Thionville ; 

the proximitv of :i part of IJourliaki's the tirst bombarded jMezicres with the 

armv. ;ind the invaders iiatnially thought siege caiuion which it iiad taken from 

that the object of the wily ErenchuKin the French at IMoutincdy. INlezii^res 

was to raise the siege of this fortress, sm'rendercd ; reronue w:is bomltarded 

which was defcndiMl with such heroic and caiiitulateil ; Kocroi gave up ; 

valor, and to bring into active use the Charleville was disarmed ; and Belfort 

great siqtply of munitions shut up within was undergoing a bomltardinent, in coui- 

it. Evcrv conceivable supposition was pariscju with which that of Paris was 

indnlged in at head-quarters. Now it feeble. Yet the tierinans, to the very 

was said that Bourbaki iutendeil to leave moment of the surrcmU'r of the forts in 

Belfort to attack the couuiHuiicatious front of Paris, were oppressed with fears 

line, and now to slip away into CJer- lest out of the uortli might coiue a 

many, :ind begin a war of reprisals, crushing blow to check them just as they 

But manv had already begiui to ctnisider were at the moment of their sn|ireme 

him as sharing the incoin|)cteucy of some triunii)h. 

of his brothers in otlice. liecause he liad .So |)redisiiosed, indeed, were the in- 

not improved his brilliant opportunities, vaders to a panic, that, wheu tlie last and 

The French arms had not been crowned despairing effort of tlie besiegers was 

with victorv in the- nortii, although atone made, and resulted in the occupation of 

time it seemed as if the camptiign, so the redoiilit of Jlontrctout, near Ville 

vigorouslv organized l)y Bourl)aki, would d'Avray, there was universal consterua- 

yield Ijrilliant results. But Bourbtiki tion at ^'ersailles. The gallant Jagers, 

was replaced by General F'aidherbe, who wh(jliadlongiield the reihuibt, were thrown 

at lirst had numerous successes. ;ind back upon the ^'el■sailles road in great 

was finally worsted in tlie battle of .St. confusion ; tiiid the i>opulatiiJu of the 

Qnentin, fought on the IDth of January, old capittd of Eoiiis XIV. fiocked out, — 

The struggle in the north was hard :ind regardlessof the meuacesof the Germans, 

full of romantic and pictures(pic episodes. — shouting and laughing, fully convinced 

The Prussitin took Amiens ; they gave that they were to welcome their victor!- 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



3G7 



^^v ■ \,li! Ill; 



/v/ ,,. 



/ 




ARREST OF A SUPPOSED SPY. 

Oils brethren, and to see tbe headlong' 
retreat of the Teutonic foe towards the 
German frontier. It did not take long 
in those days for any proclamation which 
was posted in I'aris to reach Versailles ; 
the German spies were worthy of all the 
contemptuous jjraise which the French 
bestowed upon them ; and they went in 
and out of the lines with a recklessness 
and frequency which were quite dazzliuLf. 
On the morning of the \'Jt\\ they brouglit 
in a report that the following document 
had been posted upon the walls of Paris, 
and was signed by the members of the 
Government of National Defense : — - 

Citizens, — The enemy is shiying your 
wives and children. It bombards us night 
and day. It covers even our hospitals with 



^ 



:>- 



shells. The cry to arms is heard on every 
side. 

Tliose among you who c;in give tlieir lives 
on tlie field of battle will march against the 
enemy. Those who remain, to sliow tliem- 
selves worthy of their brethren, will accept, 
if necessary, tlie hardest sacrifices, as their 
means of devotion to tlie country's service. 
Let us suffer, and die if necessary, but let us 
cry: Vive la Repuhiique ! 



368 



EUROPE IX STORM AMI CALM. 



As the ii'sult of this tiiuchiiii;' piMrhi- 
liiiition, whicli, after the hipse i)f years, 
seems perhaps to our eohler apprehension 
somewhat theatrical in tone, hut wliieh 
then sent a tlu'ill of pity tin'outili our 
hearts, and inii)resse(l us witli the same 
fervor of feelinji' tliat it gave to tlie 
Parisians, the one hundred tliousand 
men massed outside the walls on the 
niglit from the Lsth to the 19lh were de- 
termined to l)realv through the German 
lines at .10 matter what cost of life, and 
to reach the old town wiiere the invader 
had so cdiilly and so insolently estab- 
lished himself. These forces w-ere 
massed in front of Forti Yalericn and 
Is.sy at daybreak on the I'.lth ; and at 
eight o'clociv tlicy hail driven in the 
Prussian pickets, and a general alarm 
was sounded all along the (ierman lines. 
Attacks were expected in the direction 
of St. Denis and on the extreme east ; 
•but they did not then occur. 

Before eight o'clock we heard in Ver- 
sailles that twenty-four l)attaliims of 
French liners. National Guards and 
Zouaves, had begun the work of reduc- 
ing the batteries of St. Cloud and 
storming Montretout. As soon as the 
oliject of the attack was discovered, all 
the troops of Versailles were at once 
clesi)atchcd to tlie scene of action, and 
the reserve, ten thousand stahva.rt l!ava- 
rians, were ordered from IJievre and all 
the towns iu the rear of the investment 
lines on the south-west, to talie up their 
position in the Prussian head-ijnarters. 
The dozens of batteries which had been 
so long stationed on the l'la<-e d'Armes 
were liml>ered up, and rattled away iu 
the direction of ^Montretout. Cavalry, 
infantry, and artillery tilled tlie Avenue 
de Paris and the Avenue dc St. Cloud, 
and the men settled down wearily iu the 
mud to wait the turn of events, the lia- 
variaus beguiliuij the hours Ijv singing 



hymns, jiarmonioiisly and entlinsiasti- 
cally. only jiausing in their musical eflbrts 
to cheer wlien the old Emperor came 
back from his brief visit to the front. 
The Xatioiml (iuards were highly praised 
by the Germans, although Bismarck, in 
si)eaking of them to Jules Favre a little 
later on during the Conference, relative 
to the conclusion of the armistice, said, 
" Oh, yes ; they are very brave fighters ; 
but when they are going into action they 
are so glad of it that they warn us an 
hour in advance." Tliis was a spiteful 
criticism, provoked by the knowledge 
tliat, had the French begun their action 
one or two hours earlier on the 19th of 
January tliey might have gone .straight 
into Versailles, and, possil)ly, have 
ca[itured the newly made Emperor of 
Germany, and all his court. The moral 
effect of such avoiipclc niuiii would have 
been so great that it might have com- 
pletely changed the current of events 
and force<l the conclusion of a peace 
most lionoralile to France. 

Tlie assault at IMonfretout cost the 
French large numbers of men, and the 
slo|>es were rovere<l with dead and 
wounded until a late hour in the even- 
ing. (Jcneral dc Bellcmare got on to 
the crest known as the Bergerie ; there 
took the riirrti house, and pushed on 
valiantly into the ])ark of Buzenval. 
General Ducrot, meantime, on the right, 
was creeping up to the heights of La 
Jonchere. The day was wrett'he<lly 
cold and dami) ; and from time to time 
a heavy fog hindered the French officers 
carrying <n'ders from one part of the 
field to another in their nK>vemeiits. 
This, doubtless, greatly demoralized the- 
eiifii inhli; of the action. 

From Saint Germain, and from the 
\'illa Stern, we had very advantageous 
views of the tight. From behind the 
trenches which protected the French the 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



369 



fire Tvas steady, and seemed gradually 
forcing the Prussians to give way. The 
King left Versailles early in the after- 
noon, attended by a nnnieroiis guard, 
and took up his post on the viaduct of 
Marly, whence he had witnessed the affair 
at Le Bourget in Octolier. The Germans 
univeisallv hailed the (jccasion as the 



been chosen by the French as the point 
where they might form without being oli- 
served, while they waited their turn in Ihc 
movements. By and by Saint Germain 
became an ol)ject of close attention 
from the French fire, and many shells 
were aimed with si)londid accuracy at 
the pontoon bridge over thi; Seine. 




THE W.\LL OF UUZEXVAL.— EPISODE OF THE SIEGE OF PARIS. 



baptism of fire for the new P^inperor. 
and he was acclaimed whenever he 
showed himself to the enthusiastic sol- 
diery. From Saint Germain, about mid- 
afteruoon, we observed a great massing 
of French troops in the edge of the Bois 
du Yesinet. This beautiful wood, which 
lay spread out like a lordly park before 
the spectators ou the great terrace, had 



One, two, and three, burst nearby with- 
out inflicting much damage ; at last the 
gunners got their range, and threw the 
pnjjectiles directly on to the structure. 
Then, as ill-luck would have it, the shells 
did not burst. Finally this was given 
up, and the gunners from the batteries 
in front of Valerien tried loug-rauge 
shot at the Pavilion Henri IV., at the 



370 



ECROPE IX s'nuni axd cal.v. 



eiul of tho torraco : and tiicre was a 
general suKrc qui pciif^ until il was 
demonstrated that ^'alerien eouUl not 
reach tiiat [Miiut. Uuiiuii; the few 
hours sinee ten o'eloek the concentra- 
tion of German troops near Montretont 
had been very ra|iid, and, as the French 
massed np against the redonbt which 
their advance had taken and so c(jnr- 
ageoasly held, they were met liy a terri- 
ble fire. 

The French troops of the National 
(inard, who had been nuich I'idiculed by 
tiie regnlar liners dnving the siege, stood 
under fire for more than live hours din- 
ing this fight without breaking I'anks. 
When the French attacked on the side 
near Garches it became evident that 
the German resistance was fnlly organ- 
ized, and would be successful. Just 
at the time that the French soldiers 
were thoroughly fatigued by their long- 
watch on the [irevious night and their 
severe fighting, the German reserves 
poured down upon them, and threw them 
out of their position at Montretont. 
But, totlie surprise of all tiie lookers-on, 
tlie French )-allied, and came back at a 
furious pace up the hill, lireaking the 
German line, which, although it wavered, 
kept up wild hurrahs of victory, and 
never ceased its steady volleys of mus- 
ketry. Tlie Frencli were half-a-dozen 
times well installed at points from which 
tliey could have thrown shells into Ver- 
sailles ; but, as the dreary winter darlc- 
ness closed in, the tiring on both sides 
ceased almost entirely, and tuwards 
eight o'clock the National Guards left 
the redt)ulit, the Germans throwing an 
occasional shell into the columns, which 
went down the hill in very good order, 
and flocked away to Rueil over roads 
covered with wounded and dying men, 
wagons and carts nj) to the hubs of 
tlieir wheels in mud. The Germans 



admitted thar they would liave had to 
lose at least six hundred men if they liad 
pursued the National Guard. 

The inhabitants of Versailles had cer- 
tainly thought that deliverance was near. 
Many arrests were made. The soldiery, 
which had all the winter been good- 
natured in its intercourse with the French 
population, suddenly became disagreeable 
and fierce, and we saw many little epi- 
sodes which indicated that a collision 
might readily have lieen provoked. A 
Zouave, half intoxicated, was brought 
in from the battle-field between two 
dragoons, and the commenti^ of the Ger- 
mans upon his antics roused the greatest 
indignation among the French. A rough 
dragoon at the head of a patrol cohunn 
was so annoyed at seeing a priest stand- 
ing in tiie midst of an anxious and angry 
crowd, and haranguing the people, that 
he singled out the man of long robes, 
and chased him ingloriously into a neigh- 
boring house, striking him a number of 
times with the flat of his sword. Many 
peasants were brought in by .soldiers and 
charged with cutting the telegraph wire. 
There was only one sentence passed liy 
military tril)unals in sut'h cases. — sen- 
tence of death ; and tlie prualty was 
placarded in a hundred places in Ver- 
sailles. There weie many tearful eyes 
at the otlicers' tables at the cdfi's where 
the invader dined, that evening, when 
the list of German losses came in with 
the evening report. The official journal 
the same evening mentioned the .w/V/c in 
a paragraph of six lines, in wliich it 
utterly ignored the [lartial success of the 
F'reuch, and said that the German losses 
were insignificant, which was luitrue. It 
also announced that Bourbaki was in 
full retreat, and that the siege of Belfort 
had l)een resumed. 

Late at night tlie troops from the 
battle-lield were still coming into town, 



EUROPE JN SrORM AXD CALM. 



371 



bespattered with miul. anil many of them 
grievously wounded, and marched past 
the Phice d'Armes wliile military bauds 
pla3'ed hymns of victory. Tlie long 
artillery trains came trundling back to 
the great square, the guns were placed 
in the old positions, and the stalwart 
artillery-meu wore at work cleauiug them, 
half an hour after their arrival, with 
the same careful concern with which an 
English groom would care for a horse 
after a muddy gallop. It was well-nigh 
midnight before the return from the 
battle-field was over, and all night long 
the patrols kept up a vigilant promeuad- 
iug through the towu. 

When Paris came to count its losses 
after this memorable day, it was thrilled 
with horror. Among the dead at Buz.en- 
val was the noble j'oung paiuter, Henri 
Eegnault, a colorist of great distinction, 
already noted for the ".Salome," which 
is suflicicnt to render his name immor- 
tal. At Buzenval, too, fell a young 
comedian of tiie TheAtre Fran(.'ais, who 
when he was taken to the hospital estab- 
lished in the theatre to which he belonged, 
said, " I have come back to play once 
more the last scene of the ' Fourberies 
de Scapin.' " A few hours later he died. 
Both sides were eager for an armistice ; 
and the Prussians, on the morning of the 
20th of January, sounded iheir bugles 
three times, to offer a truce of a few hours, 
before the French answered. Meantime 
the Germans carried the French wounded 
to INIarnes, where a Prussian general 
meeting a French general, said to him, 
'• We were tilled with admiration for the 
spirit of your new troops of the line."' 
The old veteran had mistaken the simple 
National Guards, citizens, doing their 
duty, actuated by patriotism and des])air, 
for regulars. 

The war and the siege of Paris were 
comiug to au eud together. The defeat 



of General Chanzy's army at Le Mans, 
and the defeat of Faidherbe at St. 
Quentin, were terrible blows to the 
French. The Prussians had now invaded 
Norniaudy. They were at Rouen ; Long- 
wy had capitulated, and we were not 
surprised when wc heard that Jules F'avre 
had visited Versailles, and that a sus- 
pension of hostilities was certain. 

The French appeared to have tin'own 
away their weajions rather wildly after 
their withdrawal from Moutretout, for 
wagon-loads (jf rhassepots were brought 
into Versailles. I saw several hundred 
of the guns undergoing examination two 
days after the tight at Moutretout, aud 
think that the conquered chasscpdts were 
distributed to the German outposts. 
After the surrender of the large numlier 
of fortresses, big and little, nothing was 
more common in Versailles and around 
Paris than to see a Prussian otHcer wear- 
ing a French sword, the silver cord and 
tassel contrasting sti'ongly with tlie 
severely' elegant plainness of his own uni- 
form. The Germans conhl see nothing in- 
cougrnoMs in wearing a conquered enemy's 
weapons in hisown country, and reasoned 
as an otlicer did concerning the jiroinised 
removal of the military library of St. Cyr 
to Beiliu : " It is oui's by the rights of 
war, and if the French are anxious to 
have it back, let them come and get it." 
Tlie library, however, was not removed. 

Each morning we were awakened by 
the clatter of muskets and the regu- 
lar tramp of newly arriving troops. 
The Landwehrsmen, the business men, 
thinkers, butchers, si)eculators, now 
swarmed everywhere. I countetl thirty 
men grouped in the Avenue de St. Cloud, 
every one of whom was more than six 
feet two inches in height, and sturdy in 
proportion. One morning an officer six 
feet seven strolled down the Rue de la 
Paroisse, and some naughty F'reuch boys 



372 



Ei'iinPE ry storm axd calm. 



crit'<l out, '• Luwi'i- the curtains in tlie 
seeoui 1-story wiiiilows." 

The "24111 of .human' was one of those 
strange days which sometinirs come to 
Noithci'ii Fiance in the early days of the 
year. The air was as soft and perfumed 
as that of siirino' ; in every forest, alley, 
and garden there was hint of coming 
verdui'e. In the homliardment there was 
alull : not a single gun was heard solemnly 
booming. Fancy overcame me ; potent 
is her swav ; and as 1 walked ),\ the 
great i)()nd I seemed to lose \'ersailles, 
invaders, and the conquered population, 
and my thoughts were with the defenders 
of the massive fortress city, so near and 
yet so far away. Presto I 7\s with llie 
magic earpet of the Arabian tale, I 
was tran.-|)orted faster than lialloons, 
pigeons, or loveis' wishes could go. 
Now I was at Suresues, where thou- 
sands of hlue-hloused woi'kmen were still 
toiling ou the fortilications. as if they 
fancied that the Germans Vi'ere deter- 
mined u[ion an assault ; now in the 
maguilicent dri\'es of the Boulogne forest, 
where pale and gi'im old women were cut- 
tine' lidnghs from the trees wliieli had been 
felled bv order of tlie military engineers. 
Half way up the slope of the Valerien 
acclivity I could see the glittei' (A the gay 
uniforms of suldiers. two and two, and 
four and four, carrying bodies and 
digging the graces, planting the see(l 
which the fallen oak of the Em|iin' had 
scattered. I uotieeil that thedense foliage 
on the .Seine banks was gone, that the 
bridges were wrecks, the villages ruins, 
the hillsides of ,St. Cloud, of Hellevue,(.f 
Meudon, scarred and seamed by war. 
Uncouth-looking peasants, ill at ease in 
their uniform, and speakingclialects which 
I couhl not understand, jostled civilians, 
and mistrusted everybody. Ou their 
rude tunics were the names of towns and 
cities of which I had never heard. Cava- 



liers, who scarcely merited the name, so 
awkward were they on their horses, gal- 
loped I'ecklessly, bearing orders. Up and 
down the Bois de Doulogne constantly 
went tlie [latrols. as often arresting an 
innocent baker or candlestick-maker as 
a (ieriuan sp_v when spies were not rare. 
On a tree a singular notice was posted : 
"••Instructions for avoiding shell-fire;" 
pencil-mark by a mischievous Parisian 
under it: '• Last and best instruction, get 
out of range." 

Why could notone go down the deserted 
avenue at the southern end of the wood? 
Because the town of Boulogne was burn- 
ing and the Prussians were constantly 
sending shell into the edge of the forest, 
and children offered splinters of the 
death engines for sale, saying, " These 
are smaller than those of yesterday. The 
Prussians are exhausting themselves." 
Now came the soldier detailed to liring 
newsiiapcrs fiom the city to the sub- 
urbs, the diminutive sheets printed on 
straw paper, clamoring for the removal of 
Trochu, claiming victory in an obscure 
liai't of F'rance, and bestowing a slight 
scratch upon Gambetta ; local news; mor- 
tality of infants ; distressing and terrible 
suffering among [loor women ; riot in cer- 
tain disreputable quarters ; attenqit to 
traduce a fUo pnhlkpn' before a court- 
martial by her sisters, because she hail 
been into the Prussian lines and safely 
out again ; decree of the military gov- 
ernor condemning disorders ; horrible 
lienalties ; regiments of Moliiles, fat, 
lean, ragged, and spruce, marching with 
discontented air to ^'alerieu : twenty or 
thirty richly dressed gentlemen with arms 
inlaid with silvei- and trapiiings of horses 
superb in decoration. These were the 
ctiunts and barons organized as erhiircirrs, 
and doing good service for France. 

Did I dream these things, or did they 
come fi'om the hundred rumors and 



EUROPE TN STORM AXD CALM. 



373 



reports of German soldiers, who had 
been at the front, and who were fond of 
nothing so much as of gossiping about 
wliat was going on within the French 
lines? 

The bombardment of St. Denis was 
well under way. Since the sortie of 
the 'ilst the Germans had been ponring 
shot into the town, and many lires had 
been noticed there. I'^renchmen came 
into Versailles with rumors that the 
Cathedral was destroyed. But no! only 
a few shells had touched it. The grand 
old Latin cross into whose form the 
church was built was still unharmed, 
and the tomb of the kings seemed 
charmed against the enemy's shells. 
The houses and public edifices all 
around it were in ruins ; huge timber- 
yards, ignited by an exploding bomb, 
sent up such a glare and smoke that 
many were persuaded that Paris was in 
flames. The fort got shells poured into 
it every second ; tliey rolled together 
over its walls ; they exploded upon one 
anotlier ; they seemed to struggle for 
place above the bastion ; still St. Denis 
held out liravely, answering in (]ce\> base 
its defiance of the loudest German guns. 

On the •22d the fire from tlie brotlier 
forts near St. Denis suddenly ceased ; 
then St. Denis himself missed his accus- 
tomed round. This strange quiet uu- 
ner\cd the Germans, who could scarcely 
sleep without the thunders to which they 
had so long been accustomed. On the 
southern side Issy's gigantic battered 
hulk was still supporting the German 
fire ; but the embrasures were closed, and 
the guns were said to have been removed 
to tlie Paris ram|)arts. The French 
marines, saiil the Ciermans, were now to 
man the wall guns. Fort Vanves was 
in a dreadful condition, more damaged, 
if possible, than Issy. Now we heard a 
brisk shooting from German rifie pits. 



French prisoners lirought in thought that 
their sharp-shooters were destroying the 
whole Prussian army ; German shar})- 
shooters, on then' side, boasted nf tiie 
many victims they had made. In the 
German batteries gun carriages began 
to give way, from the severe strain upon 
them. 

And now it was announced as certain 
that M. Jules Favre had reached Vei'- 
sailles ; that a carriage had lieeu sent to 
the river at Si'vres to meet him ; tjiat lie 
had eagerly read the official journal of 
that evening, in which was Bismarck's 
circular enumerating the number of times 
which the French had broken the rules 
of the Geneva Convention, besides the 
intelligence that St. Denis was still 
burning. For the first time he had the 
particulars of Faidherbe's defeat, of 
the peasants retreating from Cam- 
brai and the surrounding country. I 
was fortunate enough to see M. Favre. 
He looked old, and worn, and weary, 
and as if lie had had but little to 
eat. That which most truly distressed 
M. Favre w.as his complete ignorance of 
the situation of the army of the east 
when he went first to see Count Von 
Bismarck. He knew of the disasters to 
CTcneral Chanzy, and, as we have seen, 
read of the troubles which had befallen 
Faidherbe ; but he had not heard a word 
of Bourbaki. He knew only of that 
gpiseral's march towards Moutbeliard, 
which had been so brilliantly begun, 
and that General Von Wcrder had evac- 
uated Dijon, Gray, and Vesoul before 
Bourbaki's advance. But he did not 
know that, on the very day that he was 
pleading for an armistice, Bourliaki in 
despair had attempted to take his own 
life, and that the Prussian division 
marching u^wn Dijon had blocked Gari- 
baldi's way. 

When M. Favre asked Bismarck for 



FJ'BOrE IX STOUM AXD CALM. 



news ho snid tlirit lio had liad iioiio for 
Ke\-ci-al ilavs : the wii-cs were all diiwn in 
the proatiT jiart of the couutry, aii<l coiii- 
iiimiiealions, he said, wt-re slow and 
uncertain. lUit, despite ihe apiiareiit 
insufik'ieney of liis iiiforinatioii, His- 
inaidv was very anxious that Ik'U'ort 
should lie surrendered. It woidd lie as 
well, he said, to give it up, foi- it could 
not hold out for more than a week 
longer. ]\I. Favre eould not consent to 
such a concession. lUsmarck refused to 
comprise Belfort in the armistice, a,nd 
poor ]M. Favre's anxiety was very great, 
for he fancied that the army of the east 
might he victorious, and raise the siege 
of Helfort, and to he asked to give it up 
in such a jiuidure or to relinquish the 
conclusion of an armistice, which was 
vital to Paris, was a dreadful alternative. 
'■Very well," said Jiismarck. "then put 
oft the signing of the armistice until 
after this fate of I'.elfoit is decided." 
JNI. Favre liardlv knew what to sav to 
this, for he said. '• I was (o[istantly 
pursued by tlie terrible fear that I should 
not have the necessary time for revict- 
nalling i'aris." 

(.)n the evening of the "2(ith of January 
M. Favi'e hail a long confereu".' \vitli 
General \'ou ]\Ioltke. After arrangnig 
the principal details of an armistice with 
Bismarcl;, and after he li;',d n^ached the 
point at which the signiisg of ihe con- 
vention seemed only a matter of fo|-in, 
he came liack to IJisniai'ck, an<l had a 
final conversa.tion with him. 'T\v' gi'eat 
Chancellor acconrpanied him t<) his I'ar- 
riage, and said, with something lii<e lively 
sympathy in his tones, as he was taking 
lea\e of ]M. Favi'c, •• I scarcely think 
that, at the point which we have now 
reacheil, a niptiiie is p(jssiMe. If you 
coiisent. v.'e will stop the lirijig this even- 
ing." — '■ I should have asked vou to do 
it yesterday," answeredJI. Favre, deeiily 



moved. '• .\s T have the misfortune to 
represent conrpieri'd Paris, I eould not 
solicit a favor ; hnt I accept with much 
heartiness now that you offer. It is the 
first consolation I have had in our 
troubles. It was insu[)portable to me to 
think that l)lood should be shed in vain, 
while we are arranging the conditions for 
a suspension of hostilities." 

'■Very well," said Bismarck, "it is 
understood that we shall give reciprocal 
orders to have the firing cease at mid- 
night. Be good enough to see that yoin- 
orders are strictly executed." 

I\r. Favre promised, stipulating only 
that the French should be allowed to lire 
the last shot. 

" It was nine o'clock." he wrote in his 
official accoiuit, "when I crossed the 
Seine at the bridge of Sevres. The con- 
flagration in St. Cloud was still in prog- 
ress. Probably not having been warned 
of our arrival, onr artillery-men at 
Point dn Jour were raining shells in our 
neighborhood. Two or three missiles 
fell on the b,iuk just a.s we left it. It 
would have lieeu odd enough if one 
of them had taken a notion to inter- 
rupt my mission. As soon as I reached 
I'aris I hastened to General Vinoy. I 
drew up the order agreed ujjon, accom- 
panying it with the most precise iustruc- 
tK.ins. At the moment that I was writ- 
ing it an oliicer on duty received a tele- 
gram from the commander of the Fort 
de la Cour Neuve. This was to ask 
for reinforcements, and expressed lively 
fears for the results of the enemy's 
bumbardineut on the morrow. ' I give 
you hei'e," 1 said to the oflicer, who 
l.ironght me tliis news, ' something 
«liicli will slii4ter this brave garrison. 
Onr solilieis have done their duty to the 
very end. We owe them as nuich grati- 
tude as if (hey were victorious.' 

•• At ;i (juarter of an hour before mid- 



EUROri-: IX STORM A.YD CALM. 



Oi 



night I 8tood on the stone lialcoiiy at 
the Ministry of Foreign Affairs overlooli- 
ing tlie Seine. Tlie artillery of our forts 
and that of the German army were still 
erashing on. Twelve o'clock sounded. 
Tiiere was a last explosion repeated far 
off liy an echo, whicii died slowly awaj'. 
Tlien silence settled over all. It was 
the first repose for many long weeks. It 
was the first symptom of peace since the 
beginning of the senseless war into wliich 
we had been forced by the infatuation of 
a despot and tlie ci'iminal servility of iiis 
courtiers. I stood for a long time lost 
in mj' reflections. I believed that the 
massacres had ceased ; and, in spite of 
the sorrow which weighed me down, this 
thought was a kind of relief. I did not 
foresee that beliind this bloody curtain 
now lowered upon our disasters were 
concealed still more lamentable calami- 
ties and humiliations." 

The armistice was signed : a neutral 
zone was established between the two 
armies, and the siege of Paris was prac- 
tically at an end. The proclamation of 
tlie C4overnment of Natiomd Defense, 
which was posted on the walls of Paris 
on the "iSth of January, announced that 
the National Guard would preserve its 
organization and its weapons ; that the 
resistance of Paris would be closed iu a 



few hours ; that the troojis would remain 
in Paris among the citizens ; the ollicers 
would keep their swords : and tliat tlie 
Government felt tliat it could sliow that 
it liad lield out just as long as there was 
fond enough left to allow of the revictual- 
ling of tiie fortress without subjecting 
two million men, women, and children to 
tlie tortures of famine. " The siege of 
Paris," said this iirorlamatioii, '"has 
lasted four montlis and twelve days ; the 
bombardment, a wiiole moiitli. Since the 
ITith of January the ration of bread lias 
been reduced to three luuidred grammes. 
The ration of horse-flesh since the ITitli of 
December has been but thirty grammes. 
The mortality has more than trebled ; 
but in the midst of so many disasters 
there has not been a single day of dis- 
couragement. The enemy is the first 
to render tribute to the moral eueigy 
and tlie courage that the whole Pari- 
sian population has shown. Paris has 
suffered greatly, but the Republic will 
profit by its long sufferings, so milily 
liorne. We go forth from the struggle 
whicli has just ended ready for the 
struggle which is to ci >nie "We go forth 
with all our honor, with all our hopes, 
despite the anguish of the present hour, 
more than ever confident in the high 
destinies of the country." 



;]7() EUEorE IX STORM AXI) CALM. 



CIIAPTEr. FORTY. 

Pergonal Reminiscence-? of the Close of the Siejie. — The "Neutral Zone." — 'Wonilers and Comicali- 
ties. —ThrouL'li the Tai-k at St. Clniul. — The Ci-own I'rince'5 Redoiiht. — Starving Parisians.— 
Tlie Hungry Faces. — A Ilumlreil I'mple followiu'.;- a ITare. 

THE Parisians had sneceeikHl l)y ac- yoii must porsist. wo must be lii'(.>uuiit to 

coi'diiig the oapitulation of Paris, the a stop at once.' 

occupation of thi> forts, tiie tatat auree- •• The (hanecllor aslicd me for my es- 

ment to the payment of a vast militaiT timate, Imt I reserved my decision until 

contribution by tlie capital, and llie fill- after a conference with my colleauiies. 

tilnu'iit of other conditions as liitter, as They lixed the maxinunn titlive hundreil 

humiliating, in secnrinij; an aniiistice of millions. I then proposed one hundred, 

twenty-(Hie da\s. Ajirnjids of the con- and closed the matter at two lunidred 

trilintion which tlie Prussians pro|)osed millions. The thnnrclhir wishi'il us to 

to levy, P)isuiarciv ;ind .hiles Favre h:id add to it three Immh'cd miUidns, to be 

(juite a S|iirited discussion. The Clum- charged to the war indemnity. • 'I'luit 

cellor had. from the lirst. said thad he will make it," he stiid, • roiuid mun- 

shoidd exact the payment of a war con- bers.' 

triliution, l)Ut he h;id. not stated what its •• I had no dilliculty in making him 

amount w;is likelv to be. So a day or understand that we could tretit only iu 

two before the negotiations were closed, the name of Paris, and that it was for- 

M. Fiivro raised the subject, when the bidden to us to prejudge the (piestion 

Chancellor's faci', says the F^reneh states- of peace <u- wai-. I'xpressly reserved for 

mt^ii. tnnk on an indefinable expression, ntitioual deiasion.'" 

" Tlie i-ity of Paris," said P)isui;irek. Paris, that coidil pay an indcnuiily of 

'•is too powerful and too rich for an two luniilred millions (.)f francs without 

instant t" [leruiit that its ransom should other ctTort than the stroke of the pen, 

not be woithy of it. It seems to me coiiM not lind, fur llie lirst few days 

that it would bo scarcely iiro|)er to ask after the ca[iitidati(in. bread enough for 

for less than a milliard." its children. There were two or three 

•• ' This is ct'rtainly only an ironical days <.)f cruel waiting, when it seemed 

eulogy." I answered, • and I slitill re- almost certain that the Germans would 

fr;\in from consideriug it as serious." be chargeable with the grave fault of 

•• lint it is iinite serious."" rcplifil the having caused a famine among the be- 

C'haucellor. "and entirely in proportion sieged French. The siilendid ciiarity of 

with those that the other cities lutve paid London and the tremendous efforts mtide 

us." in the niirth of France saved the situa- 

■' ' I should not like' I said. ' to tion. Xo sooner was tlie armistice 

break off the negotiations (of a simple siuiied than .Inlcs Fa\ic telcgraiilied to 

(inestion of money: but there are exac- London, Antwerp, and Dieppe to iiave 

tions which render notliing possible, provisions sent in with the greatest eeler- 

This is (jf the number ; and, if you think ity. .Vcedrding to the terms of the new 



EUROPE ly STORM AXD CALM. 



377 



treaty, these provisions eould not enter 
Paris until after the forts liad been 
delivered to the Germans, and the walls 
of the ijarrison of the cajjital had been 
disarmed. Jules Favre and his col- 
leao;nes foresaw that, unless this were 
niodilied, tlio provisions, which were 
now pourinij forward on all the I'ailways, 
would aeeumulatc at a distance of a few 
miles from the starving millions, and 
would there be forced to remain while 
the Germans were slowly takino- their 
precautions. His mind was filled witli 
dreadful visions of mobs of men and 
women howling for bread, of new mani- 
festations of the communal insurrection, 
[jrompted by the pangs of hunger ; and 
he went straight to Bismarck and told 
him the truth. 

Tlie Chancellor was not only startled, 
he was dee|ily moved. lie promised 
that he wouUl have tlie whole matter 
changed forthwith, and that there need 
be no fear that the military operations 
would prevent the transportation of food. 
He even offered to the French all the 
rations that the German army could 
spare. This surplus supply of the Ger- 
mans was sntHcient to nourisli the popu- 
l.ation of Paris for a day and a half. 'SI. 
Favre accepted it. The two men parted 
greatly touched by the mutual conces- 
sions of [H-ide and of dignity to which 
their charitable aim had compelled them. 

But it v.-as not until the afternoon of 
the 4th of February that the first train 
which had entered the Paris fortifications 
since the 17th of September rolled into 
the Northern railway station. This was 
the train filled with provisions which the 
population of London h:ul contributed 
for the relief of Paris. The same train 
brought a letter from the Lord Mayor of 
the English metropolis, saying that, at 
the first news of the armistice, a meeting 
of bankers, commercial men, and work- 



men had been held at the Mansion 
House, and that an appeal had been 
made to the sym))atiiy manifest in all 
parts of the eonntJT for unfortunate 
France. A first subscrii)tiou of 2.")0,000 
francs had lieen placed at the disposition 
of the English connnittee, and it was 
hoped that the sinn raised by voluntary 
contributions would re.ach 2,000,000 of 
francs. This was but a trifle for a 
cafiital which had just agreed to pay out 
:.'00,000,000 as ransom ; but it gave the 
stricken people courage, and they seemed 
once more to breathe freely. 

The neutral zone between the French 
and German lines, and extending all the 
way around Paris, was one of the curiosi- 
ties of the siege. This was a stri;) of 
territory, ingress to which was forludden 
eitiier to French or German troops until 
the close of the delil)erations of the na- 
tional assembly, which was to decide on 
peace or war. On either side of this zone 
swarmed the lately contesting soldiery, 
and the (Germans iiad seized upon the 
opportunity to iudnlge in tlr'ir pa.ssion for 
military pomp, and perhaps, I may say to 
air their military vanity. Their officers 
went on duty arrayed as if for a prome- 
nade at a court, or in a ball-room. They 
wore their gala uniforms, their best boots, 
their most shining spurs and immaculate 
white gloves. The Prussian oflicer thus 
impressed one as a superior kind of 
policeman, a [(olice sergeant, if you will, 
who was doing duty away from home and 
who wished to impress the foreign ej'e 
witii the sense of his national dignity. 

On the morning after the occupation 
of the forts I found some German sol- 
diers at a point between St. Cloud and 
Si^vres doing what they called playing at 
French Republicans, having made them- 
selves grotesque uniforms outof some red 
curtains which they had found. A large 
collection of ladies and gentlemen on the 



378 EURorE IX storm axd calm. 

other side of tlie river was looking at Prussians took their ground here step In' 

them through lieUl-gUisses and audilily stop at imminent risk, and pnreliased it 

expressing its disgust. The Prussian at the exjiense of hundreds of live.s. An 

sentinel on one pier of the ruined iiridge otlicer told nie. with tears in his eyes, that 

of S^vri's, and the Freneh sentinel on what he had lost many lirotlier otlieers there, 

was left of the other side of the bridge, The l)esiegers seemed to have found the 

presented, as they glared at eaeli other Seine guu-lioats moie troublesome than 

across the deep stream, rather a comical even the Parisians trusted that they might 

aspect. A few Germans were digging prove. Lying close to the watei''s edge. 

ritie-i>its, with a view to possible future au<l possessing the wondrous facnltv of 

emergencies. " making themselves scarce," they were 

On a high hill between St. Cloud and very effective instruments of offense. 

Sc^vrcs stood one of the most famous of Tliev came down towards Billaneourt 

Prussian batteries, a lilaee where, for two with the s|ie('d of a railway train, and, 

weeks before the ca|)itnlation, men were before the out -look on the redonb.t could 

obliged to lay perdn half the time, ex- cry ■• hiimlir," they threw their deadly 

pectiug destruction every moment when missiles, the man at the helm wheeled 

they showed their heads and while they around, and away they went, leaving sor- 

were firing their canuon at the enemy, row among theii- cuemies. 

The Prussians all spoke with awe after the Climbing u[) the mighty zigzag jiath 

siege of the fearful lire of the forts upon leading into the redoubt I found on 

this redoubt. It required some little the way great heaps of shells and great 

lihilosophy to go in and out of this ex- pieces of iron, some of them lusty 

temporized fortification under lire, and with lilood. At the top of tlie hill st 1 

the few times that I attempted it gave a coUecticm of charming houses, once fur- 
iiie a lively iinpres.sion of the horrors of a nished with the greatest taste, but then 
bombaiilment. Four (ierman otlit'ers, foit'ver ruined. Near by was a bonib- 
who were the lirst into this Crown proof sunk several feet int<j tlie ground. 
Prince's Redoubt, as it was called, gave and thence the otlieers issued their orders, 
mean animated desci'iption of the terrors In the priuripal house one long, elegant 
of the initial day of the oc<'upation. pailor. wliirh had evidently belonged to 
" Shells every moment," said one otliiTi- : a iiti'rniy man, was tilled with beds, 
"and when we fanciecl that the foits where the tired men had thrown tlieiu- 
would give us an instant's resiiite, thi'n selves, regardless of danger, to sleep. 
came the fearful screeching of the gre- The walls were decorated with ligiu-es of 
nades from the gun-boats on the Seine. Turcos and Zouaves running bi-fore the 
When a parJi'iiwiituire came out from Prussians, and a huge cartoon repre- 
eitlier side we felt like men who had sented Xa|ioleon luuiding his sucird U> 
been i)ardoned after sentence of execu- King "William. The floor of this room 
tion." The French had thrown up the was littere<l with line engravings, Ijooks 
redoubt at tlie lieginning of the alarm of value, and tapestries torn from the 
about the capital's safety, and had in- walls. Un one side was a breakfast- 
tended to arm it, but had not succeeded table smashed, with coffee-cups and 
wlieii Ihev were ilislodgcMl. Even had they glasses in confusion lii'iieatli it. A 
|int i;uns into position in it the enemy hole in the wall and some grenade 
would have had it sooner or later. The fragments close by explained tlie inter- 



EUROPE LY STOR-V AXD CAL.V. 



379 



riipted breakfast. On the door of an ont- 
bouse, whifli served as a guard-room, was 
written a German disticb : — 

" Ildw happy is lie whom no cry can call nut 
To take his niglit turn on the iloailly redoubt ! " 

Tbe dead seemed indeed mueb more 
fortunate tban the living, in this dreadful 
spot. Days and liights were constantly 
full of horror and soitow. The Germans 
bad one consolation, — they had enough 
to eat. Tbe drivers of the supply-carts 
ran imminent risk in bringing the food in 
every evening, and sometimes a shell 
sent the sheep newly killed and tbe great 
rounds of black-bread flying into air. 
Tbe walls of the redoubt and tiie deep 
trenches covered by boughs and logs, 
leading away in every direction, were 
battered and pounded as liy a giant's 
hammer. Great rows of sand-bags were 
piled high in the earth-works' top, and 
acres on acres of tree trunks, sawn lias- 
tily in the neiglilioring parks, were placed 
along the hill at riglit angles. 

In the highest corner, where one could 
look one hundred feet down over the uall, 
hung a flag-pole, on wliicb a sheet was 
nm out whenever hostilities were sus- 
pended, so that a parlcnu'iitairc might 
come across the river. At the mark of 
tbe outer line of works stood a rustic 
arbor, with a round window, in which a 
telescope was placed, and where watch- 
men sat, night and day, to gaze by light 
and listen by dark. Although this was 
the most exposed position in the redoubt 
not a shell appeared to have touched it. 
It was interesting at the close of the 
siege to visit Ville d'Avray and St. 
Cloud, where tbe ravages of war had 
been so great. On this same d.ay of the 
occupation of the forts I made this excur- 
sion, and noted the swarms of French peas- 
ants hurrviuii' back from the villages nearer 



I'aris, where they had hastilv taken 
refuge, to tlieir homes. Tiiere were 
strong men, and weak old patriots bent 
and shrivelled, housewives and l)nxom 
young peasant girls with babes at their 
breasts. All bad packs of household 
gear upon tlieir backs, and their faces 
bore marks of prolonged suffering and 
privation. Many of these simiile people 
went mad during the siege : the horrors 
of the iirotracted bombardment, the in- 
credible hardships which they were called 
niiou to suffer after lives of peace and 
plenty, turned their beads. 

The inhabitants of Ville d'Avray re- 
turned to find their houses a camp or a 
stable. The hundreds of charming little 
white stoue villas — with their outlooks 
on the lovely valley where Ciambetta, at 
what all men thought was merely a pause 
in his great career, came to pmx-hasc a 
tranquil nook in which to repose — had 
windows broken, and walls smashed by 
shells. The cellars were converted dur- 
ing the siege into lodgings for the otH- 
cers, physicians, and wounded. In many 
of these extemporized barracks one 
found interesting testimony to the intelli- 
gence and decent feeling of the invaders. 
Trifles supposed to have value from as- 
sociation had lieeu bestowed in safe 
places ; carpets had been hidden away to 
save them from being made into breeches 
for the outposts ; and in many places pi- 
anos had been safely stored. The ceilings 
bad been torn out, and rebuilt with ma- 
terials calculated to resist shell-tire ; and 
thus the rooms had mainly lieen mined. 
The French assert that the Germans had 
a passion for clocks, and generally 
carried them off ; but that they took 
frequent measures to save property 
which they might have taken or spoiled, 
is quite true. 

All the way from Versailles gate to the 
entrance of St. Cloud park the noblest 



380 



EUROPE I\ STORM AXD CALM. 



trees bad bpcii fcUod to liar the way in 
case of a prolonged siiceess, such as that 
of Montretont might liave lieen. Vines 
and fences were utilized in interlacing 
tlie labyrinth, until it seemed as if hardly 
a weasel might cross the track comfort- 
ably. This, with a barricade at every 
angle in the highways, and batteries on the 
heights around the position, would have 
been tenalile perhaps for days against a 
vigorous assault. It took weeks after the 
siege to disencumber the lields. Enter- 
ing the park by the great avenue leading 
to the palace, I found to my left, as I 
came in, a German cemetery, where the 
dozens of soldiers struck down on duty 
during the ])oml)ardment were buried. 
Before reaching the several roads which 
led through the park to Sevres and Meu- 
don, I arrived at a redoubt, where a sen- 
tinel halted me, and turned me to the 
right, — proliably from habit rather than 
necessity. I had time however to observe 
the famous redoubt which the Jagers 
held so valiantly, and whose solid semi- 
circle of earth and stone, with the qneerly 
contrived loop-holes for observations, in- 
terested nie even more than did the huge 
guns, marked " Spandau, 18C8," ranged 
in rows in the trenches below. 

I entered a long trench, sheltered art- 
fully from the missiles of death l)y a 
door made of woven green bimghs, 
evidently the work of hands impelled by 
memories of Christmas-tide, and perhaps 
by the old liurden, — 

"O Cliristniiis-trc'O, <) Cliristmas-treu, how 
faithful are tliy liraiu-liL-s I " 

Farther on I finind sentry-boxes 
made out of wardrobes, taken bodily 
from the villas of the neighboring 
towns. Here and there was a superb 
mahogany lu'iiioire, ruined by weather 
and soldiers' wear, marked outside and 



in with sportive verses on ^Nloltke's 
genius, or plaintive couplets detailing 
hardship; tlie branches were also traced 
with comical reniiniscences of the fall- 
en Empire ; the hedges and the palings 
showed dreadful gaps ; trees were shorn 
of their branches, showing how persist- 
ently Valerien had tried to make the 
still more persistent enemy unmask him- 
self. If ihe straw strewn In' the hedge 
could have si)oken it would have had its 
scalp to mourn ; the satyr had lost his 
horns, the lion his tail. The live 
great avenues radiating through the 
park from the monumental observatory, 
called the " Diogenes Lantern," were 
scarcely recognizable. The frozen ruts 
were deep enough to lie down in. 
Away l)elow the hill I saw a <lense 
smoke slowlv rising. It came from St. 
Cloud, burningforthe last eight days. At 
the i)alaces the evidences of ruin were 
even greater. Superb chairs, on which 
the grandees of Europe had repo.sed, 
lay scattered upon the abutis. every trace 
(.)f their brilliant coloring washed from the 
upholstery by the rains and snows. In a 
glade near the clnUean were long rows 
of wooden ]ialings, garnished fantasti- 
callv with broken ornaments of lloor and 
ceiling from the palace. The circular 
park, with its gorgeous orange trees and 
tasteful statues, was as tilthy as a barn- 
yard. Nearly every statue was scarred, 
seared, blaek<'ned. The jndace was a 
shapeli'ss mass of stone, seamed with the 
comet-like tracks of shells. One could 
scarcely walk across the floors inside. 
Thev wen- heaped ten feet high, with 
ereat pieces of the roof, with torn and 
disjointed gildings. The louer halls 
were oeeU[iied by dozens of soldiers, and 
hundreds were swarming about the 
environs, [lieking n[i bits (jf shell and 
stone as mementos. 

A few steps to the right brought one 



EC ROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



381 



ti) the valley, where the beautiful lake 
was once surrouudeil with sylvan statues. 
Scareely one remained standing. From 
tlie tei-raee. at the .Seine front of the 
(■Ji(Uei(ii, one could judge even more 
accurately of the ruin. The devastation 
of the invasion of 181.") is still remem- 
bered with horror in France ; but this 
had been more terrible. Then, as now, 
foreign soldiery had wandered in the 
gardens. The books of the lil)rary. in 
181."). were trampled into tlie eartii, and 
the walls were disfigured. But now one 
could not find a book or trace the outlines 
of a picture, uor yet distinguish the 
sdlnii of Mai's frcini that of Apolln. 
Elegant architectural nooks were all 
crushed out of siiape, battered into 
oblivion. 

Groups of otlicers on the terrace were 
scanning the French bank of the Seine 
through- their field-glasses and drinking 
wine out of bottles of which they had 
unearthed a good store thai morning. 
High aT)0ve the hill, where the clun-ch 
spire of St. Cloud stood uninjured 
amid the almost universal ruin, villas 
were smouldering. Descending into the 
town I found that a superb conservatory 
had been utilized as a stalile, and that 
m.uiy residences had shared the same 
fate. The great alley which runs 
through the town from the lower park, 
bordered on either side by liootlis wliose 
owners had not had time to ojjeu tlicni 
for the annual fair in 187<.), was crowded 
with soUliers curiously examining the 
toys and lioubon boxes in tlie booths. 
One soldier took a child's drum from a 
liooth and hung it about his neck. A 
sergeant stepped forward: "Fool, put 
down that silly thing ! Do you want 
live days in the guard house? " Tlie ex- 
plorations were consequently stopped, 
and the explorers went to warm them- 
selves around tires made of beams taken 



from the ruined houses. The town in 
its garment of slow tire offered a pictii- 
rescpie spectacle. 

The French authorities had expressed 
their desire that during the armistice no 
strangers should enter Paris unless they 
had pressing reason therefor. But to 
those of us whose sympathies were with 
Paris, and whose anxieties for tlie fate 
of hundreds of friends within the walls 
were daily growing greater, tliis ex- 
pression of the authorities had luit little 
weight. Application at the Prussian 
head-quarters for passes over neutral 
ground were refused, on the plea that 
they would displease the French. Daily 
visits were regularly, iiowever. made Ijy 
tlie French residents at \'crsailles. 
Women and children escaped lietween the 
liavonets of the sentinels and ran away 
lo the snrrouniliiig vill.igcs, in the hope 
of procuring food or of hearing neus of 
friends. In all that strip of country 
from St. Denis, Sarcclles, Ecoucn, Vil- 
leneuve-le-Bel, (ionesse, etc., the most 
frightful destitution now ))re vailed. 
Bread was not to lie obtained for any 
money. Many fif the inhabitants who 
returned in haste from Paris to their 
homes lived on rotten caliliages, which 
lay about the fields ; and when one found 
a frozen carrot or potato he esteemed 
himself fortunate. From Versailles I went 
through .St. Germain, thence to Epinai 
and St. Denis, and so on to Ecouen, for 
the express [)urpose of studying the 
condition of the people after the occupa- 
tion of the forts. I bent my course over 
the desolate country to Argenteuil, l.iy 
the lower road, which had been so dan- 
gerous on the occasion of onr last jour- 
ney around Paris. No sentinel barred 
the way. The birds were singing in all 
the trees as I passed, and the soldiers, 
beating b.ack the clamorous liread-de- 
luaudiug crowds at Argenteuil, simply 



382 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



.iskcil iiie inv nationnlity and li-t me 
pass. 

I f(,uiiiil tlie rnihvnv liridiie liroken into 
fragmoiith, the rails liont anil thniwii 
across tlie track, wine and ice cellars 
along the road converted into bomb- 
proofs. At Argenteuil many a -well- 
dressed ]ierson addressed me in tei'ms 
which almost commanded tears, )->egging 
for a morsel of food if I had it. iMas ! I 
was as badlv provided as most of the sup- 
plicants. Old w.imen solicited alms a.s 
they sank by the wayside, (overcome; 
little children, thin and pale, cried 
bitterly as their parents dragged them 
wearily onward. Sometimes I met 
carts driven by soldiers who had been 
sent out to forage, and was glad to see 
that in many cases the sturdy driver and 
his guard had dismounted to give 
fainting women and children a ride on 
the straw. In this ease the conquerors 
had obtained their apotheosis. The 
good old words, whi<'h conld have been 
so flttiugly applied to these soldiers, 
came into my mind : "• He drinketh no 
blo(.id, lint thirstrtli after honor. He is 
greedy <-)f vict<.)ry, but never satisfied 
with mercy. In light terrible as be- 
cometh a captain : in coucpiest mild as 
beseemeth a king."' 

From Argenteuil forward to F4)inai, 
near St. Denis, I constantly met long 
lines of carts ladeu with household 
goods of returning refugees. The most 
affecting sight was the hundreds of bare- 
headed wcjmen scrambling in the Held 
for frozen vegetables and the lines of 
half-sympathetic .soldiers off duty look- 
ing curiously on. Near here I met the 
Crown Prince of Sax<jny, attended by a 
superb cavalry guard, galloping away 
from head-quarters at jNIargeney. But, 
as he gazed on the singular scene, his 
handsome young face glowed with .sym- 
pathy, and I felt that he had learned a 



new 
war. 



lesson Concerning the horrors of 



Epinai seemed visited by the ven- 
geance of God. It was a small town 
for a suburban one ; and from its 
lioundaries one could see the grinning 
guns of Forts La Breche and the Double 
Crown. The Prussian commanders had 
ordered an inundation of the roads in tiie 
neighborhood some time lielbre ; and it 
was partially successful. The routes 
towards Paris therefore resembled small 
rivers. There remained hardly a house 
in Eiiiuai untouched by shot or shell. 
Barricades were still standing in a luni- 
dred places. I saw a bulwark twenty- 
four feet long, entirely made out of fur- 
niture, — rich chairs, tables, and sofas 
piled up in confusion, and carpets 
stopping up the chinks. 

From one of the half-ruined forts a 
long i)rocession of German cavalry in 
fatigue uniforms was slowly winding, 
and a few trumpets were sounding in the 
distance. -\s I turned from the neigh- 
borhood of St. Denis to move toEcouen, 
I came upon endless lines of starving 
Parisians, hastening out to buy, beg, or 
liorrow food ; and I saw a siiectacle 
which I shall never see again, and which 
struck mc with astonishment : — 

A man of humble appearance had 
cauglit a hare escaping through a hedge, 
had knocked it on the head, and with an 
air of supreme content was moving 
briskly along the road in the same di- 
rection which I was taking. Behind 
him followed at least one hmidred Pari- 
sians, all with their eyes fixed with an 
exi}ression of intense longing upon this 
unha|i|)y hare, hanging lim|) and lifeless 
from its cajitor's back. There were 
[leople in that hundred who would have 
knocked the lucky possessor of the little 
animal on the head had each not been 
restrained by the presence of the other. 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



3><3 



I have not the slightest desire, after tlie 
lapse of many years, to exaggerate an 
impression which was at the time 
intensely powerful ; but I felt then, as I 
feel now, that I was looking upon men 
and women actuated by the same aluKjst 
uncontrollable murderous impulse that 
human beings feel slowl}- overpowering 
them when they are drifting together at 
sea in an open lioat, suffering from 



hunger and thirst. The wollishness of 
the gaze, the stealthiness of the tread, 
and the inexpressible longing on all 
those people's faces were at once fasci- 
nating and repulsive. Nothing could 
give, better than this little incident, an 
idea of the extremities of suffering and 
privation to which the populace of Paris 
had been driven by the siege. 



3RA 



EVRVPi: IN STOR}I AXD CALM. 



CHAPTER FORTY-ONE. 



A (;rc:it Historic Occasion. — The Assembly at Bordeaux. — Tliicrs in His New Rjle. — A Political 
TruLTCily in the Tlieatre ile la Comeilie. — The Protest of the Alsaliaus. — Tlie Final Inipcachnieul 
ol' the Euipirc. — A Strange IScene. — Louis Blanc, Victor lIujj;o, and the other Exiles. — The Vote 
for Peace. — A .Stern Renunciation. — The Mayor of Strasbour^i; Dies of a Broken Heart. 



IX Bortl(';i;ix wo seemed to be in 
aiKithi'f ciiimtiy, if not in ;iii(>tlii'r 
wiifld. al't-.T the excitement of tli,' elec- 
tions in P:iris. The constant (jnurfels 
of tlij various [xiliticitl factions, which 
were licLfinning to exercise tlieir liostility 
now that tlie sieo-e liad enileil, and llie 
increasini;' misery on excrv liand. liad 
uot seemed almormal initil we giit, out 
of the lines (>f tlie war, and came to tlie 
comiiact and iiictnresqiie sontliern city, 
wli'rc all the n;itives were chimorons for 
tlie continuation of tlie strno-o'le. Peo- 
ple who came out of the anouisli and 
turmoil could not refrain from reminding; 
the southern |)oiiulations that they would 
not be so anxious for war if tliey had 
seen :i little moi'e of it. Put these crit- 
ics were set aside as tritlers. Had not 
Ciambetta resinned his liiiih dtlice, 
tdthouoh it must liaxc re(|nii-ed nuich 
self-denial to do so. when he heard a 
hint of the neo'otiatious for peace? "Was 
there not strenoth enouuh in the great 
.soutli. with its \ast resources and its 
sturdy people, for the organization of a 
new defence, wliicli should oppose a 
linn resistance to the Prussian armies? 
80 let the Assembly meet and let it part ; 
but let it not ilare to hint :it Prussian 
<lesires, or, most es[ieci:illy, at cession of 
territory. 

It took thirty hours to g'et from Paris 
to Pordeaux. a joinuey usually accom- 
jilished in twelve hours. The permits 
to leave the capital, permits which dei)u- 



ties and private soldiers, citizens, and 
strangers alike were forced to have, 
wi're elaborate documents, [irinted in 
French and tiermau, and decorated with 
miuierons stam|>s. 'I'hey described ac- 
(anatelv the appearance, profession, 
anil ol)jeet of the journey of the person 
to whom they were issued. AVhen the 
train li.ad crossed the neutral lines and 
arrived on Prussian ground at Vitry, a 
white-gloved and elegantly iniiforiued 
Hessian officer came to collect the 
jiasses ; :ind while they were rigidly in- 
spected the train waited an hour. It 
was somewhat amusing to ohserve the 
conceit of the Germans who came and 
I'angcd themselves along the platform, 
evidently that the Freiudi notables might 
ol)serve their imiforms. The Parisians, 
liowever, were fully eipial to the occa- 
sion, and when they saw anything worth 
praising in the German military scheme, 
they freely praiseil it. But they were 
quite as free in their adverse criticisms. 
It was onlv when they saw a ruined 
house or broken bridge that they mut- 
tered against the " Prussian vermin." 

At Fort d'lvry we saw a Prussian 
colinun, several battalions strong, wind- 
ing its way among throngs of French- 
men who luul evitlently come home to 
see what was left out of the geueral 
ruin. At C'hoisy-le-Roi, there were the 
same sad-faced people searching for the 
remnants of their properties. Here 
homes were completely ruined ; walls 



EUROrE ly STORM AND CALM. 



385 



were toppled over, streets euciimbered 
with rubbish, fragments of shell and 
shot. The great bridge lay in the bed 
of the Seine, forming a kind of dam, 
over which the usnallv tranquil water 
was foaming. 

As we moved away from C'lioisj'-le- 
Roi, we saw another Prussian column 
moving in, the men's uniforms covered 
with dirt, and the officers shoutir.g at 
the laggards. The peasants at each 
station pointed out the track of tlie war 
to the Parisians, and were listened to 
with great interest. " Do the Prussians 
annoy and abuse you?" was the question 
often asked ; and " No, not much," was 
the invariable reply. 

At Vierzon we were outside the 
Prussian lines, thanks to the vigorous 
action of the inhabitants some days 
before the capitulation. The Prussians 
had left only a small force there, and 
the Vierzonese, after having lieen pil- 
laged until tliey could stand it no longer, 
took their hitherto concealed arms, and, 
after much loss of life on both sides, 
diove out the invaders. The armistice 
intervened in time to save the town from 
the vengeance of the discomfited enemy. 

Our train was transferred to the 
branch line leading to Limoges and Pe- 
rigueux, and towards daylight arrived at 
the latter town, where we found thou- 
sands of ]Moliiles going in all directions, 
taking up positions to meet the enemy in 
case the new Assembly should declare 
for a continuance of the war. Here a 
train filled with deputies, among wliom 
were Rochefort in a Garibaldian red 
shirt, Sclicelcher, and others of the Rad- 
ical Paris delegation, was j<iined to ours. 
When we reached Bordeaux that after- 
noon we founil tliat the Red Party had 
prepared a formidable demonstration for 
the arrival of its leaders; and this was 
a ffloomv indication for the future. On 



our way through Angers, Pithouviers, 
and numerous other towns around which 
there had been famous battles, we had 
seen the Prussians in great force, l)ut 
had seen few native inhabitants of the 
unlucky villages and cities. Heie and 
there a Prussian in fatigue uniform 
wore a French cap, which he had picked 
up on a battle-field. In some of the 
French railway stations, wliich had been 
fortified, French workmen were engaged 
in taking down the stockades and level- 
ling the earthworks, — most eloijuent 
protestation against the pn^longation of 
hostilities. Throughout the occui>icd 
country there was but one spirit manifest, 
— a s|)irit of conciliation; liut where 
the heavy hand of the invader had not 
been felt there was no doubt of the war- 
like determination of the people. 

Bordeaux was proud of the distinction 
conferred upon it, and offered as a meet- 
ing place of the Assembly its beautiful 
theatre, which stands in one of the many 
handsome squares of the city. We 
found that at least tVirty thousand 
strangers had flocked int(j Bordeaux to 
witness the final act of the great di'ania. 
The hotels were crowded, the streets 
were filled with elegant equipages, in 
which the Parisians, dressed in black, 
the color of their despair, were con- 
stantly parading. Hundreds of soldiers 
wandered to and fro, uiaiiy of them, 
I suspect, never getting to tlie regiments 
wliich were awaiting them. Every day 
detachments of awkward-looking youth, 
with new guns in their big hands, went 
through the principal streets, with un- 
practised drummers at their liead ; and, 
on the iirincii)al scjuare, long lines of 
boys, at morning, noon, and night, were 
going through military drill under the 
guidance of gruff and red-nosed old ser- 
geants. On this same square stood three 
hundred camion, which had but recently 



386 



El' ROPE LX sroliM AM) CALM. 



Mirivcd I'rom Aiiici'ic;i ; ;iii(l in the gruat 
siiiiiing rhi-r were iihhhlmI iimiK'rous 
Hlii[is, said to rontain ainiile store of 
imifekfts and otluT weajions from the 
same sympathetic country Ijt'vond tlie sea. 
No National Assembly had Ijeon lield 
in France since 1849, and, as tlie actual 
machinery and reports and electoral 
commissions liad to iie conducted with 
the greatest care, it was not strange that 
the great l)ody of representatives accom- 
plished little before the middle of Feliru- 
ary. Postal cominnnications were sns- 
l)ended in forty-tliree departments of 
France ; and, altliougli C'onnt Von l!is- 
marclv had ex[)ressed his di'sire tliat the 
elections sliould lie condut'ted witliout 
the slightest interference from the Ger- 
mans, it was well known tliat all letters 
and telegrams from tlie French govern- 
ment to its prefects and otlier local fmic- 
tionaries were ()|)ened and carefidly read 
l>y the Germans. A weelc after the 
convocations not more tlian lialf the 
deimties liad sncceeded in reacliiug IJor- 
deaiix ; and tlie fifteen committees into 
which tlie seven hundred and lifty-tliree 
members were usually divided were in a 
very incomplete state. The President 
was oven obliged to announce that twen- 
ty-five members would constitute a full 
committee for the first few days. The 
Orleaiiists were said to lie working with 
great earnestness, and, until the Parisdel- 
egatioii arrived, there were rumors every 
day that an t)rleaiiist cmip iVEfitt might 
be ex|(ected. The fifteen journals of 
Bordeaux kept the air filled with most 
astonishing rumors, magnifying every 
trifling incident into a danger for the 
country. But the local National Gnai-d 
lieha\(Ml most sensibly, and organized a 
service, thniugh the town and around the 
meeting [ilace of the Assembly, which 
effectually lirevented riots and attempts 
at riots. 



On the l.'itli the curtain rose on the 
llrst session in the great theatre. An 
aged ex-deputy of the old Republican 
Assembly was called to the chair. At his 
right sat the ^Moderates and the Royal- 
ists in very great numbers, conspicuous 
among them being M. Thiers and the 
JJuke Decazes. On the left, calm and 
passionless, sat JI. .Jules Fa.\re, bowed 
down by work and grief, and evidently 
anxious to esca|n' [larticular notice. 
Next in order to him were Jules Simon, 
Emmanuel Arago,Pelletaii, Glais-Bizoin, 
Gamier-Pages, the temporary minister 
of marine, and the stiff and decorous 
General Le FIA, Minister of War. 

Gambetta, who after his resignation 
from the government of National De- 
fense had been clioseii as their delegate 
liy the people of no less than ten depart- 
ments, was not present on this occasion ; 
but the thin andience of cli[ilomats. 
ladies, and the favored journalists who 
had obtained tickets, was continually 
asking for him. Tlie story of his organ- 
ization of the defense had set the seal 
upon his renown, which was now dis- 
tinctly great. 

Garilialdi hobbled in early in the after- 
noon, and sat on a bench remote from 
any party, au action which was niisin- 
ter|ireted and commented niioii with the 
anuising French attention to small details. 
In the di|ilomatic A'f/c, Lord Lj'ons, the 
Prince l)e iletternich, and the Chevalier 
Nigra of Italy were the only noticealile 
figures. After the oiiening speech was 
finished the action of the old hero was 
seen to have its significance, for he had 
sent a letter to the President's desk, say- 
ing that he renounced all claim to the 
title of de|iutv. with which he ha<l been 
honored in several deiiartmeiits ; and lie 
sought later on to explain his reason for 
this I'efusal to accept the honor offered 
him, but the Right started a sireat tumult. 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



387 



which almost caused a violent encounter 
between the opposing parties in the 
Assembly. The spectators in the galleries 
shouted and shook their lists like mad 
men and women ; and all this for nothing 
at all, save that Garibaldi had tried to 
make a spceeli ; that he 
had resigned as deputy, 
and was consequently out 
of order. 

At this session Jules 
Favre made a, plain and 
straightforward speed i, 
in which he gave into the 
hands of the rei)resenta- 
tives of the people the 
resignation of the gov- 
ernment of National De- 
fense. "We are ready," 
he said, " to answer to 
you for all our acts, con- 
vinced that we .sjiall meet 
in their examination only 
the loyalty and justice 
by which you will be in- 
spired in all your deliber- 
ations." This speech of 
Jules Favre made a great 
sensation in Bordeaux. 
To an Anglo -Saxon 
nothing seemed morerea- 
sonaiile and proper than 
that the head of the 
provisional government 
should quietly lay his 
powers at the people's 
feet wiien the occasion 
demanded it ; but the mass of the 
suspicions and questioning southern 
French had imagined that there would 
be a conflict for the possession of author- 
ity ; that M. Jules Favre and his col- 
leagues would object to giving up their 
places, and doubtless M. Favre's correct 
and dignified attitude increased the faith 
of these southern populations in the 



R('|)ublic. None who were in tlic theatre 
that day will forget the kindly voice, tlie 
classic head crowned with the silver 
hair, the eloquent, musical voice, that 
told the French people the value and 
dignity of conscience, and declared fear- 




(J.\RIBALDI AT BORDEAUX. 

lessly to them tiiat tlic\' were beaten 
and chastised for their sins of omission 
and conunission. .Jules Favre counselled 
the French nation to hasten its decision 
in this Assembly , and he was wise. In a 
day or two it was evident that M. Thiers 
and the party grouped directly around 
him were to have the complete control 
of events at Bordeaux. The venerable 



3SS 



EUROPE IX STORM A XI) CALM. 



statosmau had taken iij) liis al)ode at tiie 
Hotel de France, where he was within 
a few minutes' walk of the Assonibly, and 
where all the leading statesnu'n, politi- 
cians, and generals als(.) installed them- 
selves. 

M. Thiers, like all tiie other Reimli- 
liean |ioliticians who had come directly 
into contact with the Oermans, realized 
that the Assembly must declare i)oace 
rather than war ; and lie said so ])retty 
frankly in the interviews which he 
accorded to the seekers after truth. The 
Assembly was speedy to recognize M. 
Thiers as its leader, and while it placed at 
its head as its working president M. Jules 
Gr(5vy, destined afterwards to become 
the President of the Kepublic, its first 
political proposition was that M. Thiers 
should be made chief of Executi\e 
Power, exercising his functions under 
the control of the National Assembly, 
with the advice and counsel of ministers 
to be chosen and presid<'d over liy him- 
self. Although all jiarties recognized 
him as a sincere i)atriot, all the ad- 
vanced and radical Rei)ublicans feart'd 
that he would try to bring back an Orlean- 
ist. He re]ieatcdly declared that he h,ad 
no Orleanist sympathies, no hostile in- 
tentions to the newly launched Reiiublic. 
and nothing made him more indignant 
than liints that he was trilling with the 
liberties of the ])eople. 

Early in the sessi<in the deputies from 
tlie departments of the I>ouer Phine. 
the Upper Pliine, the Moselle, and the 
INIeurthe presented their protest and decla- 
ration, stating that Alsace and Lorraine 
did not wish to be alienated from France ; 
that, associated for more than two cen- 
turies with Ihe French in good as in evil 
fortune, they had always sacrificed them- 
selves to the national grandeur ; and that 
they signifie<I to (Jerniany and to the 
world their tirni deteimination to remain 



French whatever might befall them. " Eu- 
rope," they said in their declaration, "can 
neither permit nor ratify the desertion of 
Alsace-I-orraine liy France." The clos- 
ing words of this document were very 
eloipient. "AVe hereby proclaim," said 
the signers of tlie declaration, " the for- 
ever inviolable right of the Alsatians 
and the people of Lorraine to remain 
members of the great Freneli family, and 
we swear both for ourselves and for those 
whom we represent, as well as for our 
children .and our children's chihlren, eter- 
nally and by ever}' possible and practical 
means to insist upon this right against 
the usurpers." M. Keller, an eloquent 
and passionate man, was the leader of 
this delegation, and some of his speeches, 
in which he urged the country not to give 
up the provinces so fnmly demanded by 
Germanv, were characterized by great 
elevation of thought and beauty of diction. 
At the close of February the countrj' 
had become fully enlightened as to the 
necessity of si)eed3' peace. The capital 
was menaced with a huge insurrection, 
and it was thought prudent to prepare for 
a government at Versailles ; but how to 
return there when it was occupied by the 
conqueror? AVhichever way the deputies 
turned they were confronted by this hate- 
ful question of peace. There were as 
many opinions as men. Louis Blanc, 
Victor Hugo, Edgar (Juinet, Rochefort, 
Scha-lcher, Gambetta, and Henri Martin 
the historian ; Delescluze, with the shadow 
of his coming fate already on his gloomy 
brow ; Lockroy, Ranc, Brisson, Edmond 
Adam, Clemenceau, the great and good 
M, Littre, Fhxiuet, and so many others 
who have since taken a prominent part 
in the conduct of their country's des- 
tinies, — -each had his scheme for steer- 
ing the nation through the breakers, and 
no one seemed willing to yield to any 
other. 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



389 



There were moments when a vote of 
any distinct proposition for peace seemed 
impossible. 

M. Thiers had lieen elected deputy 
from twenty-six departments ; conse- 
quenth' there was hut little opposition 
to the confirmation of his powers as chief 
of the executive, and in tlie session of 
the 10th he presented his new cabinet, in 
which Jules Favre, Jnles Simon, and oilier 
distinguished Repulilieans had prominent 
places. After this was done, the Assem- 
bly took a recess ; and meantime M. 
Thiers returned to Paris, and went to 
Versailles, to see what was the final will 
of the invader. 

At the close of the month he returned 
quite worn out, the railway accident on 
the journey and the species of prostra- 
tion into which he had fallen, consequent 
on the heavy demands of the Prussians, 
seeming likely to cause a dangerous ill- 
ness ; but the old man's fiery soul soon 
revived the wenried frame, and he had 
been in town hardly an hour before he 
was at the Assembly, talking freely with 
the members in the committee rooms, 
and preparing his colleagues for a vote 
upon the final act, which had been elab- 
orated during his absence, and which 
was conceived as follows : — 

"The Chief of Executive Power of the 
French Republic projioses to the National 
Assembly the act, the tenor of which is 
as under : — 

" Tlie National Assembly, suffering 
the consequence of deeds with whicii it 
had nothing to do, approves the pre- 
liminaries of peace, the text of which is 
annexed, and wliich were signed at Ver- 
sailles, on tlie 2(;th of February, 1871, liy 
the Chief of Executive Power and the 
Minister of Foreign Affairs of the French 
Republic on the one hand ; 

" And on the other hand by the German 
Chancellor, Couut Otto Von Bismarck- 



Schoenhausen, the Minister of State and 
of Foreign AtTairs of His Majesty the 
King of Bavaria, the Jlinister of F^or- 
eign Affairs to His Majesty the King of 
Wurtemburg, and the Minister of State 
representing His Royal Highness the 
Grand Duke of Baden ; 

" And authorizes tlie Chief of lOxecutive 
Power and the Minister of Foreign Affairs 
to exchange preliminaries of peace, the 
reading of which has been made in the 
National Assembly, and the authentic 
copy of which remains in the archives 
of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs." 

It was said that M. Thiers lost his tem- 
per during the final discussion with the 
German chancellor, and cried in a fretful 
humor, " Well, take the whole of France, 
and make the best of it! " but soon af- 
terwards was subdued and solemn, and 
proceeded to the serious business of the 
harrowing session. 

The 1st of March, the day after M. 
Thiors's return from Versailles, was 
full of gloom. ]\I. Thiers had asked the 
Cliamlier to act with all speed, reasons 
of the greatest gravity exacting that the 
treaty should be at once ratified. He 
added tiiat "the ratification would be 
the signal for the return of our iirisoners 
and the evacuation of a part of our ter- 
ritory, including Paris." This was un- 
derstood to mean that the Prussians 
were in Paris. The newspapers without 
exception appeared with their pages in 
mourning ; the ladies on the streets 
were all in black ; the soldiers and offi- 
cers on duty around the theatre where 
the Assembly mot w<.>re crape upon their 
sleeves and on their weapons ; there 
was no enthusiasm manifest as 51. 
Thiers went to the Assembly, nor on his 
return. 

On the Place de la Coinedie there 
was a motley crowd, which waited all 
through the session to hear the first 



;iyo 



EUEOl'F. IX STOIl.M AM) CAJ.M. 



news of the deeision ns to the country's 
destiny. The soldiers t'ornieti a hollow 
yiinui'c, wliieh ke|it Imck the masses 
from the apiniiachi's tn the theati'e : and 
all aiuinid llicni were hnndreds of soldicis 
an<l olii<-ei's. in tircat vaiiety of uniform, 
— Frani'S-Tiieurs. in leather leggings, 
Aliiine hats, and short swords ; brawny 
young ]\Iohiles, with sunlmnit faces and 
awkward gray coats : showy gendai'mes. 
in blue and Mack, with folds of wiiite, 
:;il\-er cord upon their breasts, ai.d with 
tlicir carbines at tlie saddle-bows of 
their horses ; rusty-looking liufi-s in 
l)attle-stained uniforms, who were nuieli 
petted and jiatted on the back by ontlui- 
siastir ladies ; priests, division generals, 
newspaper men, army conti'actors, for- 
eigners, German s])ies, scores upon scores 
of men packed togetiier, and waiting 
liatiently for the close of the historic de- 
liljerations. 

Trumpets rattled, and bugles lirayed. 
Victor Hugo, followed by a little group 
of Radical literary men, went through the 
hollow s(iuare, hearing on every side 
whispers of admiration. No one seemed 
to have tiie courage to speak aloud. 
The Alsatian deputies were respectfully 
saluted. Oambetta had sent word that 
he would come to the Assembly only 
when the discussion (jn jjcace began, 
tiambetta was ill, worried, insane, — said 
iinnors in the crowd. — could not sleel) 
nights, wandered up and down in his 
nxjui, gazing cut of window. The 
tremoudous efforts whii'h he had made 
since Se])tembcr had told greatly upon 
him. He was pale, his thick black 
locks were in disorder, and there was a 
suggestive stoop in his shoulders, from 
which he never recovered. 

15j' good fortune, and the courtesy of 
the Chief of P^xecutive Power to M. 
Louis Blanc, I secured a ticket for the 
session, and was somewhat suritrised 



and confused to find that it ushered me 
into the presidential /o^c, M. Tliiers 
dciubtlcss having, wiili the court.'sy tra- 
diiional in legislative circles, conf(.'rr<>d 
his best ticket upon his sternest adver- 
sary. The great theatre was but dimly 
lighted ; but there was no do\ibt that the 
deputies were in their [ilaces, for a I'oar 
of dispute came u)) from the orchestra 
stalls, and the President was furiously 
ringing his bell. In the Iixjc di' hi J^ri'si- 
(h'lice. Madame Tliiers, surrounded by 
a little grotiii of charming girls, was 
(piii'tly viewing the scene, and the vari- 
ous Radicals were pointed out to her 
and to the other guests by one of the 
priests of her i)arish cluu'ch in Paris, 
whose comments on his political enemies 
were quaint and satirical. 

Tlie new deputies, who had been t)re- 
vi'Uted by exceptional circumstances in 
their dei)artments from arriving at the 
first session, were now all in their 
places ; therefore the President and all 
the members of liis bureau had lieen 
placed upon the stage. The cm tain was 
up, and displayed M. Grevy with his 
head l.iowed on his desk. One might 
almost have fancied him at prayer, 
liefore he touched the bell a second time 
and arose. He uttered but one sentence, 
accoi ding the tribune to an Alsatian dep- 
uty, who at once began a vigorous 
jirotcst in the name of those whom he 
rt'presented against the giving up of the 
l)i()vinces whence he came. Then fol- 
lowed a hubbub. This called the 
painful matter too quickly to the surface. 
AVe were first to hear a lengthy report on 
the peace preliminaries. But now came 
other i)rotests against the cession of Al- 
sace and Lorraine, the members standing 
like Leonidas and his comrades in the 

A little wav off. in a ipiiet street, a 
man in the iirime of life, and until re- 



EUnOPE fiV STORM AND CALM. 



;3;)i 



cently robust in health, lay broken in 
spirit and dying. Every few minutes 
some one of the depnties sent from the 
Assembly to inquire after the brave- 
hearted man, who could not bear to see 
the disgrace of his country 
and the dear old province 
■ndience he came. The phy- 
sicians said he would not live 
until the morrow, this fine- 
spirited Mayor of Strasboing, 
and that he might depart 
with the turn of the tide 
from light to dark. 

On the minister's bench, 
at the front on the right, M. 
Thiers and Jules Simon were 
in close conference, and 
shaking their heads dubious- 
ly from time to time. M. 
Simon was doubtless telling 
his chief how strong the Al- 
satian protests had grown 
since M. Thiers's visit to Ver- 
sailles, and what a battle 
they might expect that after- 
noon. 

Now came a huge man 
with a bulky manuscript. It 
was M. Le Franc, with the 
report of the dolorous pro- 
ceedings at Prussian head- 
quarters, and what his com- 
mittee, charged to examine 
the aforesaid, tliought about 
it. ( )n the leftthere was great 
agitation. Hugo, Louis Blane, 
Floquet, and others took seats 
together, as if arranging some preconcerted 
movement. The report of the committee 
seemed to evolve nothing except the 
horrible consequences that would over- 
whelm France should she refuse the 
treaty. "The prolongation of the armis- 
tice," said the reporter, "is refused. 
The forts of Paris are occupied, the 



enceinte is disarmed. Farther away 
the inimical armies are massed at the 
extreme limits of the district covered by 
the armistice. There they face our 
disorganized armies and our population, 




VICTOR HUGO AT BORDEAUX. 

that is already beginning to hope for 
peace." These words grated harshly on 
the ears of some patriots in the gallery, 
and they shouted out : " You are a Prus- 
sian, and so is every one who talks as 
you do ! " 

There was no applause when the re- 
porter had finished. Every one had 



392 



EVROrE L\ STORM AXD CALM. 



lisU'iiod with brcatbloss iuteiest, and 
knew how he should vote. ]Meaiitiiiie 
Edgar Quiuet, representing the Republi- 
can Left, entered tiie tribune, and claiineil 
to be lieard lieeause lie had studied the 
poliey of Germany and Prussia for a 
great part of his lifetime. He was 
listened to with ini|)atience. "The 
feudal state of (iei-niany," he said, 
'• avenges itself upon our free denioeratic 
institutions by making them coutiibute 
to our ruin. By this treaty peaee is not 
seeinxHl, but war, an<l war to the knife 
will soon be resumed." He declared, 
" Prussia wishes not only our fall, but 
our annihilation." 

M. Tliiers started U|i, half angered on 
hearing M. Quinet thus denounce the 
jirelimiiuiries of peace. INIeantime, 
through the crowds at the foot of the 
tribune, a stout figure was vigorously 
making its way. Five minutes after- 
wards this figure was in the tribune, and 
order in the Assembly was submerged 
in the most frightful confusion that ever 
upset a legislative body. The mention 
of one almost-foi'gotten l>ut odious 
name had done this. A deputy from 
Strasbourg had ventured to say that the 
proposed treaty was fit to be signed by 
only one man, and that that man was 
Napoleon HI. At the utterance of this 
name, which awoke so many unpleasant 
memories, not only all dejiuties present 
reproached the orator, but the luindreds 
of spectators mnttrred their connnents. 

There was great excitement on the 
ministerial bench, for the treaty had 
been called odious and a death-warrant. 
Just as j\I. Thiers was about to reply, 
and had l>eguu his speecli in an angry 
voice, some one was heard defending the 
liuiperor. Every inemlier of the As- 
sembly tinned to see who it was. The 
staid and resi)ectable form of ]M. C'onti, 
special secretary to the late Emjieror for 



many years, was now seen. M. Conti 
demanded permission to address the 
Assembly, and as he stepped down to 
cross the aisle to tlie trilume a perfect 
howl of rage and derision followed him. 
The agitation could not have been 
greater had the ex-Em|ieror suddenly 
appeared as the embodied misfortune of 
France, the walking shadow of Woertli 
and Setlan and Wilhelmshohe. Tiie 
Alsatian deputy gave way only for a mo- 
ment, and (_'onti proceeded to .ascend tlie 
tribune steps. As he went up, a man 
near the trilmne darted out fixim a group 
of friends, and was about to seize the 
daring Imperialist and hurl him down to 
the floor below ; but two or three caught 
him by the arms. Yet he struggled to get 
away, screamed for vengeance, did this 
excital)le Langiois of Paris, — Langiois 
who fought so well at Jloiitretout. — and 
the tumult eontuiued. From gallery and 
from diiiloinatic loijcs came ex[)re~sious 
of surprise, anger, and friglit. Ladies 
arose as if about to leave their scats. 
The President tried in vain to maintain 
order; but C'outi, with iiuhjinitaljle (.'or- 
sie;in persistance, had scaled the tribune, 
and, despite the shouts, opened his lips 
to defend his late iirotector. The 
spectacle of the excitable, passionate 
audience looking up at him as he spoke 
must have almost appalled him. There 
were three men standing at the trilnme's 
foot, looking as if they could almost have 
stifled him as he came down. But C'onti 
was very cool and collected. He had 
heard the cry of the Paris mob, and had 
received deskfuls of mysterious tlireat- 
eniug letters ; had seen many an advent- 
ure in political life ; had been a member 
of another constitutional assembly, and 
voted for C'avaignac, as he afterwards 
said. That vote served his [)urpose liut 
little. He had gone over to the Impe- 
rialist faction, and been successively 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



39;j 



member of the Council of State, special 
secretary, and even senator. He had 
lost a fine position by the Emperor's fall, 
but could not refrain from putting liis 
head in through the curtains, and saying 
once more : '■ Here we are again." 

His plan vv;is clear. He iiad heard 
that the Assembly pro|)osed to declare 
the total wreck of the limpire. He 
feared it, and wished to rally the small 
forces at his disposition. There was 
perhaps a faint hope that universal 
suffrage might be diverted to the profit 
of the Empire once more. 

But he was compelled by the storm of 
hisses and reproaches to descend from 
the tribune, and, coming down, lie met 
Victor Hugo, who glared fiercely at him 
and then tiu'ned his back upon him. 

A little knot of men, who had been 
consulting together for some ten minutes, 
now broke \\\). One of theiu went into 
the tribune, and in tremulous tones 
read a motion, hailed with furious bra- 
vos, confirming the downfall of Na- 
poleon ni. and his dynasty, as al- 
ready pronounced l)y universal suffrage, 
and declaring that dynasty responsible 
for the ruin, the invasion, and the dis- 
memberment of France. 

Some few Bonapartists endeavored 
once more to protest ; but this was too 
much for the p:itience of M. Thiers, who 
fairly scrambled Into the tribune, and, 
standing in his favorite attitude, with 
one liand i>laced on the front of the 
tiilnine, began a fiery little speech. " I 
have heard," he said, in his piping voice, 
•' from the lips of sovereigns, that the 
Imperial |)rinees you represent say that 
they were not blameworthy for the dec- 
laration of war ; that it was France who 
should bear the blame. They say that 
%vc are the culpable ones. I wish firmly 
to deny this, in the presence of all 
Europe. No ! France did nut wish for 



the war," — and here the old gentleman 
began fiercely to pound the tribune rail, — 
" it was you, who now protest, you alone, 
who wanted war ! Do not talk to us of 
the services rentlered to France by tlie 
Empire ! " and, giving a final bang to 
the rail, he retired indignantly. 

Every member of the Assembly was 
now on his feet, and shouts of assent to 
M. Thiers's statement were heard from 
every quarter except one. The C'oisi- 
cans rallied, however, and a lawyer from 
Bastia, named Gavini, attempted to 
speak ; but he was silenced, and when the 
President called on all who agreed to the 
jiroposition declaring the Empire dead 
to rise, only six — the half-dozeu Impe- 
rial dejinties — remained seated. 

Conti had certainly hastened the fu- 
neral of the Second Empire. 

Thenceforward the memliers of the 
Left had the session in their hands, and 
proceeded in regular order with their 
protests against the tre«ty. M. Bam- 
berger, the Alsatian deputy, who had 
unwittingly provoked the t'onti inciilent, 
painte<l a glowing picture of the devo- 
tion of Straslionrg to France ami her 
appeals for help. Then came \'iet()r 
Hugo, with his slow and labored delivery, 
his long i)auscs for effect, his antitiieses, 
his periods of passionatedeclamation. ami 
his lion-like glances around the Assem- 
bly. His speech was disappointing, but 
was listened to with profound attention. 
His eulogy of Parin made the deputies 
uneasy. This was not a time to talk of 
heroisms : we wore making peace ; and, 
when he spoke of delivering Clermany 
from her Emperor, even as (lermany liad 
delivered France from hers, a smile flit- 
ted across the faces of the deputies. 
The great poet was not in his best form 
in these early days after his return. It 
was only a short time after this session 
that he went out of the tribune in a fit of 



394 EriinvK is storm and calm. 

rtiigcr. wi'iite his resignation, :inil stalkril !iii<l totti'iing t'lamo next appealed lor 

away from the Asscmlilv. Iiet-aiise lie iiad pcaee. and the veneralile warrior thou;j:ht 

not iie 'n ii.stenet. to with what lie eon^id- it iiis Uiitv to east a stone into the eamp 

el'"'! propel- attention. of tlie Left, whose delinit'ons in fa\or 

The only otiu'r speakersof importanoe ol' the nioial liulit he (hd not reeognize. 
OH this iiieiiiorahle day were M. Vaebe- '• I fear," lie said, '-thai se.eh distais- 
lol, the noted philosopher, and at that sions \\ ill make the eiieiuy lose its re- 
time one of the IMaj'ors of Pai'is, who speet for this Assembly." 
spoke cainestly and with deej) eonvietion Deputies from the departiueut of the 
foi peace. Iieeanse, in his opinion, war was \'osges, who thnuoht it their duty to 
impossible. Time, he niaintaiiu'd, would abstain from voting Iieeanse they eoiild 
.show the I'ritssians that they eoiild not not bear the thought of prolonged war, 
deal with poimlations as with lands. yet would not vote their own separation 

Louis lilane had reserved for himself from tiieir countrymen, were rebuked in 

in the dav's programme the eiinneiation a lierv manner liy the only one from the 

of ihe mill iiotisiiiiiii^ and the eonseieii- same department who had not joined 

tious review of the right and wrong of them. 'I'liis rebuke brought iNL Thiers 

the treaty. His speei-h w.is, in some once more to the tnliune to ask all to 

respects, the best, certainly the most I'X- vote lovally, according to their c<in- 

haustnc, wliieh the Assemlily heard, sciences, and not to tritle with false patri- 

and was listened to with unflagging in- otism. 

terest. from the line opening statement. At last the deputy, Keller, from Alsa- 

tliat nothing was durable here below tia,, had his final apjieal, in which he 

save justice, to the close, when he begged called the proposed tivaty an injustice, 

the Assemlily to declare to Europe a fnlsehood. a dislioiic». Then eanie 

that to take away the quality of French- the vote, and an hour of weary waiting 

men from Frenchmen exceeded lier for the icsult ; and when the members 

power. The audience was spellhuiuid. had all pa.ssed over the iilatform on 

The right and wrong discussed thus at which stood the fatal urn, and the sec- 

tliis meeting would not have been retaries bad slowly counted, the bell was 

listened to had a less skilful and pro- rnng, and every one of the deputies and 

found thinker been in the tribune, iiearlv everv iierson present stood up to 

There w:is something subtle in Louis hear the result declared. 

Blanc's characterization of Prussia as a The vote was for peace, 54 fi to 107. 

nuuiarchy whose enlargement was due The treaty which took away Alsatia and 

solely to two crimes, — the theft of the greater [lart of Lorraine from France 

Silesia and the division cf Poland was ratified ; the ransom of live millions 

His summing up of the situation was as of francs was agreed to; iind the broken 

true as eijigranunatic. "It is not be- armies of France might now dissolve and 

tween war to the death and jieace that go back to the [ilough, the forge, and the 

you are required to choose : it is be- counting-i'oom. 

tween war for the maintenance of law INL Keller, who had been sitting bowed, 

and right, and [leace for the \iohitioii of with his face hidden in his hands, while 

right; between war for honor and [leace his colh'agues voteil. now climbed up the 

at the price of honor." ste|is once more, anil there was a dead 

(ieneral Chaiigariiier's feeble voice silence as he stood confronting the As- 



EUROPE IN NTORM AND CALM. 



395 



senibly. As he hade farewell to those 
in whom he liad not Ibiuul piotection, 
and with his colleagues announced his 
withdrawal from the Assembly, his atti- 
tude was full of a noble dignity. "I 
call," he said, '• to take up the sword, 
every man who desires to have this de- 
testable treaty burned and trampled upon 
as soon as it is i)ossible." 

Then the uniformed nsher opened the 
door of our box, and we regained the 
open air. It was bright sunlight when 
we entered, darkness of night when we 
came out ; and the darkness had fallen 
upon the hearts of the people. 

Next day we heard that the good 
Mayor of Strasbourg was dead. The sil- 
ver cord was loosed by the cruel shock of 
the news of the vote for peace. Hun- 



dreds of deputies and all the foreigners 
visiting Bordeaux went in respectful 
procession to the railway station wlien 
the Mayor's little funeral started for 
Strasbourg, and a few days afterwards 
the populace of the conquered city 
poured forth by thousand.s to tlie ceme- 
tery where the Mayor, who was univer- 
sally beloved, was bniied. Patriotic 
speeches were made at tiie o|)en grave, 
although a display of French sentiment 
in Strasbourg was dangerous in those 
days ; and it is said that when the |)ro- 
cession, returning to the gates of the 
town, was halted, according to custom, 
by the sentinel, who said, "Who goes 
there?" the whole crowd in concert, and 
as if moved by one unauiuious impulse, 
answered, ^^ France ! " 



39(; 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



CHAPTER FORTY-TWO. 

Garibalili anil His Role— New Italy. — The Up<ji-o\vtli of Iter Nationality. — Causes that Ilimlt-red It 
and Comlucccl to It. — The Influence of Napoleon Third. —Ilis Fatal Jlistake in Counselling' the 
Alliauce of Prussia and Italy. — Downfall of the Old Frencli Monaix-hieal Poliey. — The Hesitation 
of France. — Occupation of Rome by the Italian Governmeut. — The Pontifical Zouaves. 



G.VRIBALDI was one of the lions at 
l>()i-(le;iiix so long as he chose to 
remain in the extempoiized capital, and 
to show himself in the street, or in the 
lohliies of the Assemhly. frotu which lie 
had resigned with so nuich dignit}'. Ilis 
serene and heroic conntenance, his frank 
gaze, his dignified carriage, and his slow 
and imposing gestures were all carefully 
noted and chroiticled. His sayings were 
reported witii utmost tidelity, and where- 
ever he went he was followed by attentive 
stenographers. 

The Radicals, and. indeed, most of the 
advanced Repniilicans, did not hesitate to 
call him the only successful general on 
the French side in the recent campaign. 

When he left the Assemljly, after hav- 
ing given in his resignation, he made a 
little address on the stei)S of the theatre. 
in wliich he said that he had always 
known how to distinguish monarchical 
Fratice. the France of the clergy, from 
Rci)ul)lican France. The first two, 1o liis 
thinking, merited only execration, 'mt Re- 
publican France was worthy of all love and 
devotion. Tiie Radicals were so i)le:ised 
with Gaiilialdi that when the C'onnnune 
was installed at the Hotel de Ville, in the 
following month, an appointtnent in what 
it was pleased to call its army was gi^-eii 
him ; but the grand old [latriot did not 
soil his skirts with contact with tliose 
noisv swasliliucklers wlio steeped their 
brains in wine, and damped their swords 
iu the blood of their Ijrethreu. He was 



an eagle, but did not consort with vul- 
tures ; a hero of insurrections, who had 
never forgotten that he was a gentleman. 

The presence of Garibaldi at Bor- 
deaux brought forcibl}' to miud tiie great 
changes which had been going on in the 
Italian peninsula since the influetice of 
the second French Empire had begun to 
weaken and totter towards its fall. In 
these events Garibaldi had played a shin- 
ing part. His career had ofteti been 
checked by his fortune ; the French Em- 
pire, which he had so detested, had 
[ilaced its liayonets at the disp(.)sition of 
his adversaries ; but lie lived to see 
" Italy free from the Alps to the sea," 
and to witness the complete dis<-oniriture 
of the man who iu his early and ardent 
youth had professed a warm enthusitism 
for the cause of Italiaii uationality, and 
who in his mature middle life had found 
the supi>ort of his nobler ideals incom- 
(latiblc with the success of his Imperial 
fortunes. 

The volcanic forces winch had bi'en 
so mysteriously at work iu Europe for 
many years had, as it were, shaken and 
fused together into one eomi)osite and 
homogeneous mass the hjiig separated 
States of Ittily. Tlie land of volcanoes 
and eartlKpiakes had been convulsed 
politically, and to its lasting profit. The 
gretit movement iu favor of Italian unity 
was no more to be checked liy the hand 
of the fallen French Emperor, or to be 
hiudered by a show of French bayonets 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



397 



inEomethau the lightning in the heiivens 
or the sweep of the winds. The suc- 
cession of wars from 1864 to 1870, by 
which Prnssia asserted her supremacy on 
the Contineut, culminating in tlie tre- 
mendous struggle and series of victories 
which we have just outlined, had defi- 
nitely closed the era of the old monarch- 
ical policy in France, a policy which con- 
sisted in pushing the French frontier 
as far as possible away from Paris and 
in preventing the coopi'ration of smalt 
states which were neighbors to France. 

Although it is perhaps wise to believe 
in the mysterious disi)ensation whieii 
brings about the unity of ijcoiiles, and 
creates, despi'e the harshness of fate 
and of circumstance, new and powerful 
nations, it is still an open (jucstion 
whether Italy and Germany would have 
been unified within their respective 
bounds for a generation to come hnd it 
not been for the weakness of tlie late 
policy of Napoleon III. Among the 
most sincere friends of the late Eni|)eror 
there are many critics who maintain that, 
when the French Emperor advised Italy 
to make its alliance with Prussia in l.sCiH, 
he opened the door to all the dis isters 
which finally fell upon his government. 
This treaty, signed in April of 186(1, bore 
within its breast the germ of Italian 
unity, the German empire, the sn|ii)rcs- 
sion of the Temporal Power, the fall of 
the Imperial dynasty, the disnienil)er- 
ment of France, and the C'onnnunal in- 
surrection. This is a Frencli view, 
which is perhaps pessimistic ; yet we 
have on record the singular saying of 
P>ismarck. when he came back from 
Piarritz, where the arrangements for the 
treaty had been made, "If Italy had 
not existed we should have had to invent 
her ! " 

Xapoleou's assent to this treaty was 
singular when contrasted with hi.i vacil- 



l.iting attitude '.vith regard to Rome ; 
l>nt in those days of l.'iOd he h.ad l)eguu 
Ihi' [lolicy which conductL'd him to his 
luin He counted without his host 
when he founded all his hope upon tlie 
issue of a conflict between Austria and 
Prussin, a conflict which ho hoped to pro- 
voke by abetting the alliance between 
Prussia and Italy. It is not strange that 
the French monarchists call the man who 
was tlieir Imperial master for half a gen- 
eration a •• fatal man.'" for he rendered 
the future practice of Iheir time-conse- 
crated policy utterly imi)ossilile. 'SI. 
Thiers, the old and wily monarchist, liad 
sounded his note of alarm in the great 
debat? on tlie Roman question in the Corps 
IJgishitifin Decemlur of 1X67, when he 
cried out: " No sovereign should volun- 
tarily create on his own frontier a State 
<if twenty-five millions of inhabitants. 
Ilalv, in liecoming a great monarchy, 
at the same time becomes a disturbing 
agent and an instrument of revolution. 
The Germanic federation, which for 
twenty years was the main authority 
for maintaining the peace of the world, 
has disappeared, and has been replaced 
liv a military monarchy, whieli dis[)Oses 
of forty millions of men ; and you are 
placed between two unities, one which 
you made and the other which you per- 
mitted. " 

This wail of M. Thiers for the lost 
balance of power was hailed with genuine 
d;'liglit by the aspiring spirits in Italy 
and Germany, who were panting for the 
consummation of national unity. 

Had Xapoleon III. kept his pliglited 
w(nd to the French Republic before 1852, 
[lerhaps the dream of Italy might have 
bc;n sooner realized, and there might 
have l)eeu some hope of a Latin feder- 
ation, — hope which maynowlie set aside 
n^ vain. But Napoleon as Emperor 
really set back the progress of Italy 



;i!),s 



FAJROl'E IN STORM ANf> CALM. 



towards I'liU national stature. All ihat 
lie iiad iloiK' for the country in IS.")!) was 
as nanglit in the eyes of the Italians so 
long as his bayonets glittered in the 
streets of Rome. When Ronher in his 
famous speech said that Italy would 
never enter Rome, the revolutionisis 
lieyoud the Alps trembled with wrath, 
and General De Failly's cool remark that 
the '• did^KcpOts liad done marvels "" at 
Mentana awoke resentment in the Ital- 
ian mind which the generous French 
nation, committed to the policy of a 
government which it detested, was very 
far from sus|»ccting. 

What wcjnderful changes had come to 
Ilalv between l.SCT and the close of that 
fateful year of bSTtt! On that same 
September day when the C'rown I'rince 
of Prussia entered Vcisailles with his 
victorious army, the troops of King Vic- 
tor Emmanuel of Italy entered Rome 
after a brief resistance fi-om the Pope's 
soldiers. M. Rouher's scornful pi<iphi'ey 
had [iroved false. Italy, on that d.-iv 
which brought disaster to hei- ancient 
allv, stood up proud and sliong in the 
faci' of the world, in full possession of 
the heritage of which she had been dc- 
[irived for more than three hinidred and 
lilty years. What Italian unity meant 
to Italians it is almost impossible for 
Americans tonnderstand. This unit}' had 
b.'cn looke<l fcjrward to for so long, and 
had been so persistently denied them, 
that it seemed almost foolish to lio|)e on. 

In 1S4.S, the great period of universal 
revolution in Euroi^e, the Italians almost 
clnlched the glittering prize ; then it was 
swept out of their reach once more, and 
only such stern |)riests of liberty as 
Mazzini could keep the lamp of their 
faith burning brightly in the weary 
vears. All the way down through the 
generationsfrom.Iulius II., who preached 
the ci'usade against the barbarians and 



strangeis in the '• lovelv land of Italy," 
the country was hopelessly divided. 
" The Italians." says a despairing writer 
on Italy, in 1.S48, "took part, some 
with France, some with Spain, until at 
last all Italy laid her weai)ons at tlu' 
feet of the fortunate Austi'ian in lo.OO. 
All the interval between Julius II. and 
Pius VI., between Charles V. and Na- 
poleon, was, for that country, a long 
ag(jny. Italy was dying, — dying by 
inches, — dving unconsciously. The 
chill of death was at the heart; but, by 
unnatural anomaly from the wonted 
course of nature, symiitoms of vitality 
were still disci'rnible at the extremities. 
Milan and Naples were lost ; but ^'enice 
and fienoa still sttRxl calm amongst 
ruins of mediicval fortune ; and Rome, 
papal Rome, yet preserved some of its 
l)restige, — the vain shadow of sidritnal 
sovereignty. jMoreover — and that was 
vet a third style of supremacy- — men still 
looked uj) to Italian genius ; for jioliti- 
cal annihilation had not yet brought with 
it mental prostiation and degeneracy. 

•• These circumstances contributed to 
kecj) up the sad illusion of an Italian 
existence. The foreign ruler was perr 
mauently established in Lombardy, the 
centre of Italian wealth in modern times. 
lie lordeil it over both Sicilies, and fn.im 
tliese, his head-cjuaiters, his nod was law 
at Florence and Rome. He kept tl\e 
leinainiug States in eontiuuid alarm \\y 
open threats, by perlidious intrigues; 
and these had no defense ag;iinst him, 
besides the most selfish, subservient, 
pusillanimous policy. 

'■ All this for nearly three centuries. 
At the breaking out of the French Revo- 
lution, in 1789, the death-blow was 
scarcely needed. Napoleon, in 1797, 
or his conquerors, in 1814, Ijlotted out 
Venice and Genoa, the last cities of 
genuine Italian growth; 1820 and 1831, 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



;i!ii) 



.stri[)i)e(l Naples, Piedmont, and Koine 
— those foreign strnetures of tlie Holy 
Alliance, on Italian ground — of their 
tinsel of nominal self-existence, bv 
throwing them helplessly, for very life, 
on Anslrian protection. From Iho Aliis 
to tlic sea the Austrian made Iiimself at 
home. Where he was not to-day he 
might be expected to-morrow. All the 
princes still bearing the name of inde- 
pendent were only the first of his vassals. 
Every one of the Italian (States presented 
a melancholy spectacle of a house 
divided against itself, and it was espcs 
daily this deep-rooted animosity lietweeu 
government and people that made Italy 
Austrian throughout. It was a state of 
things to make many a patriot wish for 
an actual annexation of this mere Aus- 
trian dependency to the Austrian mon- 
archy. The Roman, Neai)olitan, and 
Sardinian governments were, in fact, 
Austrian with a vengeance." I-Cacli suc- 
cessive revolution in Italy, from ISi'o to 
1848, whether a demand for a French 
charter or a Spanish constitution, attaciv 
upon priestly government or rash insur- 
rection by hot-headed patriots, withwit 
any definite aim exce[)t hatred of the 
Austrian, was crushed with promptness 
and decision. But this very vigor of tiie 
Austrian had for its result the concen- 
tration of all Italian energies into the 
national i)arties. 

Mazzini, early in 1848, declared that 
the only question hencefortli in Italj- was 
the national one. and that all questions 
as to the forms of internal policy nuist 
be put otT until after the close of the war 
of independence. 

From 1840 to 1859 Austria was tiien 
all-powerful in the Italian peninsula. 
At Jlodena, at Florence, at Parma, at 
Naples, and at Rome, the Italians were 
crushed beneath the Austrian taxes 
and tlie military requisitions.' The Lom- 



bard-Venetian kingdom had become an 
Austrian province. So great were the 
excesses of the Austrians in the penin- 
sula tliat Count C'avour, one of the 
builders and founders of Italian unity, 
l)oldl}' denounced them ; and it was not 
long Itefore Piedmont and its sovereign, 
whose minister Cavour was, saw the 
Austrian armies arrayed against it. 
Tlien, in a generous moment. Napoleon 
III. espoused the cause of Piedmont, 
and in swift succession came the battles 
of Montebello, Palestro, Jlagenta, and 
Marignan. Lombardy was swept clear 
of the Austrians by tlie victorious French 
and Italians, and the sanguinai-y en- 
counter of Solfcrino brought the cam- 
p.-iign to an end. 

As the price of the aid which Napoleon 
gave the Italians in the eontlict with tlie 
Aiisitrians, the provinces of Nice and 
Savoy were ti'ansferred to France ; and 
this had been agreed upon by a secret 
arrangement, whicli was not made pub- 
lic until after the peace. When the 
lioiiulations who had been thus bodily 
removed from one government to anothei- 
were called upon to express their ideas 
on the change, the majority of the votes 
wore favorable to French annexation, 
andNicehas become, in these latter days, 
such a jewelin the Mediterranean garden 
of cities, such a popular midwinter 
capital of fashionable pom[) and pleasure, 
that the Italians look longingly towards 
it, and weep that they cannot have it 
back again. 

Out of this war eaine the movement 
which resulted in the foundation of the 
constitutional monarchy of Victor Em- 
manuel. Florence, Parma, Modena. and 
Bologna declared the downfall of their 
old governments, and voluntarily an- 
nexed themselves to the kingdom of 
Sardinia. This was the first step toward 
the weldins; together of the nation. 



41)0 EUROI'K IX STOini AXD CALM. 

In Sirily there were iiLsurrections. dcscrtiug the Pope. As for Pius IX., 
Garilialdi, :it tlie head of liis famous he always opposed his noii jiossuynus 
" Thousand." entered Palermo. Sieily with a sweet and serene firmness to 
was jiacified. and Garibaldi eame liack every expedient which tlie Emperor of 
to Naples in tiiunipli. Tlie events from tiie Freneli sugi^ested. 
tliat time to the present are too well The Italian government first mani- 
known to need more Ihau hasty reeapitu- fested its direi't independenee of France 
laticin here, ^'i(■ll)r ICinmanuel entered wlien Naiioleon III. endeavored to 
Na|>les as its sovereign in IMGO. The tempt it to tlie ru[iture of its alliance 
populations of Southern Italy finally witli Prussia liv offering to secure 
aelviiowh'dged his power. The Italian \'eiietia for King Victor Emmanuel. 
Pai'liaiiK'iit met in Turin in 18G1, and in Tliis. tliouglit Napoleon, was a i>rize 
jMarcli of tliat year tlie liingdom of Italy whieli would tiiorouglily daz/.le tlie new 
was proclaimed. Then ftaribakU mani- King. The (^uecn of tlie Adriatic had 
fested a fiery impatience to march ui)on long been in mc.>uniing in presence of 
Konie ; Imt lie could not persuade the the harsh in\ader. It would lie a grace- 
King to adopt his way of tliiiilcing, so ful act, and would look well in history, 
he swejit down into Sieily, where he to interfere for her restoration to her 
raised a. valiant little army, and was Jdiulred. lUit tlie Italian court explained 
well on his wav to Ivome to fight the that it was too late to lireak friendship 
final battle, which would have completed with Pru'-sia. Tlie Italians fully ap|)re- 
Italiaii unity, when the King's troops cialed the inijiortance of their new con- 
met him at Aspromonte. and held him nection, and realized that they could 
back. free Venice without Napoleon's aid. 
All this time France was the chief The French Emperor was taken lictueen 
ulistaele to the conquest of Koine. In the forward movements in Italy and 
18G4 the French Emiiire c<ineluded with (4erniany like one of those jjrisoners of 
Italv a trcatv, bv which IJonic and its the jMi<ldle Ages, immured in a cell with 
neighborhood wcie to be I'esiiected by moving walls, which came slowly together 
the Italians, even after the French to crush liiui. 

troops, whieli had long been the main Italy had serious misfortune by land 

support of the papacy, were withdrawn and by sea when she i-ntered the great 

from Kome. The IJomau question ever and swift campaign of ISGG side by side 

since the expedition of 1859 had been with Prussia. She came to grief by 

a source of grave embarrassment to land at Custozza, and by sea at Lissa ; 

Napoleon III. .Vt (jue time he recom- liut Austria was crushed liy the northern 

mended the Pojie to abandon a part of German, and Victor Emmanuel i-ame 

his temporal empire to save the rest, in triumph into the historic square of 

He even counselled him to gi\e ii[) every- St. Mark to welcome the bride of the 

thing except Pome : at another, he sea back into the family from which she 

caressed t'je piojet't of an Italian fedcra- had been so long parted. Old Prince 

lion whicii slamld be presided over by Von Metternieh. who was a niaiirnist' 

the Pope. Doubtless many <jf these Idiigiie, when he heard that Napoh'oii 

things were ;:uggested by the infiuence III. was coquetting with Cavour, had 

of the Empress, who was an inllexil.ile predicted that the revolutionary enqiirt' 

ojiponent of a:;y movement towards •' would perish (in the Itiiliau breakers." 



Ei'ROrE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



401 



The old (li|iloinat w;is well-nigh omnis- 
cient in all things tmiiioral, and he 
doubtless foresaw the trend of events 
taking Italy into the arms of Prussia. 

The French Eni[)ire had withdrawn 
its troops from Rome in 18IU, after the 
famous fSepteraber convention ; hut, in 
l.SGT. (inrilialdi, who was a keen ob- 
server of the direction of the wind in 
Euroiiean politics, began anew a march 
upon Rome with his volunteers. He 
saw that the French Emph'e, up to that 
time the iii\<it u|Min which the politics of 
the Continent revolved, was b.'ginning t i 
fail ; so he lioldly stei^ijcd across the 
frontiers, which Italy, by the conven- 
tion, had agreed to keep sacred from 
intrusion. The Pope was threatened in 
liis St. Peter's chair. Napoleon was 
forced to stop in his long list of enter- 
tainments to sovereigns during the 
])rilliant festival of the Exhiliition. and 
to send out an ii'on-clad squadron, laden 
with French troops, to C'ivita Vecchia. 
Europe was struck with the celerity with 
wliicli this French expedition was or- 
ganized. Prussia was a little dazed by 
it, and for a short time wondered if it 
had been mistaken in its estimate of the 
Freneli military disorganization. The 
prestige of France, which had steadily 
lowered after Sadowa, rose up again. 
But ]\Ientana was a mistake ; and wdiere- 
as at the moment of the expedition the 
French Imperialists fancied that they 
had recovered their hold upon Italy, they 
had done the one thing which had finally 
ruined their influence. 

Italy made one last effort to secure the 
aiil of France in its advance upon Rome, 
when it sent General Menalirea to Vichy 
in ISiJO, to say to Napoleon III. that if 
he would agree to the embodiment of all 
the Papal states, with the exception of 
Rome and its immediate environs, in the 
liiugdom of Italy, that kingdom was 



re,idy to make with France an offensive 
and defensive alliance. How different 
might have been the results of the war 
which France was fatally destined to 
have with Prussia, if this Italian offer 
had been accepted I 

General Menabrea made siiitefnl re- 
marks afterwards about Napoleon's 
refusal, which he doubtless attributed to 
family influences. •• It is very nulncky," 
he said to a French diplomat in Florence 
in 1871, '• that we did not conclude that 
alliance, because, the flrst duty of two 
allies being the reciprocal C(jntrol of 
their military effectives and resources, 
we should have been able to show the 
Emperor that he was not in a condition 
to make war." 

To the French trooi)s in Rome suc- 
ceeded a kind of international guard, 
comiiosed of young gentlemen from the 
aristocratic families of various European 
countries, and of adventurers of more 
or less renown. The life which this 
bodv of defenders of the faith led during 
the three years before the entry of the 
King of Italy into Rome was h.-irdly an 
agreeable one. There is a good story 
which illustrates one of the odd phases 
of lite in this corps. Early in l.SGS a 
voung man of noble family, who was 
Ijurning to distinguish himself in military 
deeds, went to Rome, and laid his swonl 
at the feet of the Pope, or, in otlu'i- 
words, enlisted in the Pontifical Zouaves. 
On the day after his enlistment, he re- 
ported to his superior officer at a dirty 
liarracks in an obscure quarter of the 
Eternal City, and inquired what he could 
do to fill up his leisure. 

" Go into the court-yard," said the 
officer. ■• and peel potatoes." 

Tlie young man of noble familv made 
a res]iectfnl saluti', liut said that he did 
not understand. Whereupon he received 
a bluff militarv rebuke, and was tohl 



402 EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 

Hint lie should go into the eonrt-yard The hinuiliatiou of this genthunan, 

ami (lei'l potatoes, ami if he could not who had had dreams of military glory, 

understand an order wlien it was given, and found that he had nothing but menial 

he eould take three days in the guard- services to perform in a dull garrison, 

house, which were forthwith bestowed baffles description, 
updii him. 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



403 



CHAPTER FORTY-THREE. 



The Great Pier Between the Mediterranean ami the Adriatic. — Erindisi and Naples. — The Hcvival of 
Commerce. — Industrial Exhibitions. — -XJuiversal Proicrcss. — The Struggle Between Church and 
State. — Pius IX. and Victor Emmanuel. — Tlie High Priest of European Conserv.atism. — Tlio " Non 
Po8»umu8 '* of the Vatican. — Familiar Traits of \'ictor Emmanuel. 



" TTALY," once said a witty Italian 
-L frieiul of iiiiiio, '• is a great pier 
extended front the soiitli of Europe into 
the Adriatic and Mediterranean seas, 
and Brindisi and Nai)le.s are its pier 
heads." 

This word " pier," in connection with 
the " lovel.v laud of Italy," seemed, at 
first, to have a jarring sound, for it sug- 
gested things connriercial, wliich had not 
been in recent times liahil ually associated 
witli tlie peninsula; l)ut events have 
proved that no cx|)ression could liave 
been more apt to describe new Italy of 
the period of unification. 

In fact, from lirindisi and from Naples 
flow to the east great currents of c(_>ni- 
merce which are constantly increasing in 
volume. Ji^ngland sends her gent'rals, 
her tieasures, and her mails to tlie 
Indies by the Italian route ; and the port 
of Naples is never without half a dozen 
steamers from tlie Orient, arriving or 
departing from it, as the most convenient 
point at which to touch in Soutiieru 
Europe, before tnaking the long sweep 
eastward Tlie piercing of the Al[is liv 
numerous tunnels, by the mighty one of 
Mont Cenis, which was completed in l.sTl ; 
and in tliese latter years l)y that, of the .St. 
Gothanl, lias traiLsformed the railwa.y 
system of Italy as Ijy magic, and lias 
opened new channels for trade, making 
of ancient and illustrious Genoa thetlan- 
gerous rival of Marseilles ; giving to 
Venice an impulse which no longer 



seemed possible for her, ami liiiidiiig, by 
bands of iron and unity of mercantile in- 
terests, Germany and Italy together as 
no political alliance could possibly bind 
them. 

The cities, so numerous in Italy, 
where the long ilivision into petty states 
had fostered the up-building and the 
rivalry of capitals, have all had a touch 
of the new insiiiration. Turin and 
Florence have ceased to mourn over the 
dei)arture of the court to Rome. Turin 
has sprung into first-rate business im- 
portance. Florence, for a long time 
weighed down by municipal misfortunes, 
is beginning to recover its splendor of 
old time. Milan, and Verona, and 
Venice, and Genoa no longer merit the 
title of cities of the past. They are in 
immediate and constant relations with 
the living and enthusiastic ]iresent. I5ut 
exacting critics say that this northern 
section is not real Italy ; that it is so 
closely allied with German lands on the 
one hand, and with France on the other, 
that its characteristics are composite, 
and that the enterpri.se, the quick energy 
of the northern races, may be well mani- 
fest there, while it will be entirely lack- 
ing in the sleepy and sensuous south. 

This is an unjust criticism, and one 
which the enter|irisc of Naples, the won- 
derful uplmilding of Rome, the tictivity 
manifest even in Sicily — much agitated 
by politics and volcanoes, — amply dis- 
[)rove. At the [iresent writing, Naples 



404 ECROI'I-: IX STURM AXD CALM. 

is ;ihoiit til he jiii'iUrd with :i uu'tropiili- lie was one of the ji'reat artitieers of the 

tan railway, — an institution wliicli Paris national unity. It is due to his innnense 

does not vet possess ; and in most of the persistenee and unflajxgini;' industry that 

southern Italian eilies. in puhlic Imild- tlie Apennines, wliieh once divided Italy 

in2's. in nnniii-ipal institutions of every into numerous ilistinet basins which 

kind, the march of pro^•ress has been seenie(l to he shut out from eonnnuniea- 

ns ra[iiil as in any other eourjtry in tion with eaeli other liy natuial harriers, 

Euroiie. Tlie rise in the value of It:dian are to-day [lieieeil liy live railway lines 

railwav stocks was so swift as to cause a between Naples and Foggia. Rome and 

<j;reat and very agreealile surprise to Ancona, Florence ami I5ologna, rk'noa 

thousands of iu\estors. who could n<4 and Milan, Savoua and Turin. New 

lielieve it |iossil)le tliat the once divided lines aic constantlv created, and the 

anil lielpless Italian land had |iroiluced Piedniontese, the Lombards, the IJomans, 

such results. The railways of the peiiin- tlie Neapolitans, the Sicilians, who once 

siila are slmrtlv to be divided into two lived as much apart as if they had been 

great svstems, the Adriatic and the separated by great oceans, now inter- 

jMediterrauean : and these, with their mingle, excliange sentiments and ini- 

tributary Hues riniiiiiig in all directions, iiressions ; and the work of welding the 

will siion devidop the rich agriiadtinal natii.m together goes In'avely on. Indiis- 

lields. which have long been destitute of tiial exhibitions of great importance and 

facilities for communication. In Italy, extent iiave, within the last few years, 

as ill raanv of the newer States of the given a powerful aid to the completion 

American I'nion. ihe narrow-gauge rail- of Italian unity. The exhibitions at 

w.av is a popular institiition ; and there IMil.-ui :iiiil Turin attracted hundreds of 

is an Italian companv specially organ- thousands of visitors from the southern 

i/cd for creating these bciieticent and [lortion of the peninsula : have prompted 

inexpensive arteries ol' commerce whei- the creation of new industries, and opened 

ever tlie\ are needed. new clianiu'ls ; and they did away with 

The coiiimercial movement, up to tlie the stupid [irovincialisin for which tlie 

time of llie sudden development of the Italians had long lieeii justly reproached, 

inteniatioiKil railwav system, had been aiui put money into circulation where it 

entirely conceiitiated niioii the coast, had hitherto lieen almost unknown, 
and especially U|)on the western side. In ISCT heggars wtu'C so abundant in 

wdiere were the ports of (ienoa. Leghorn, Italy that one could not take a stroll in 

Naples, and the great Sicili:in cities of the street or country without being 

r.'derino. Messina. Catania, and .Syra- liesieged liy them. In 1S77 beggars 

(•use. No sooner were the Al[is and the had become a less frcipicnt specta- 

Apennines tunnelled than the Italian cle, both at the great highways of 

trade with the outer world doubled in travel and in the interior districts, 

volume, and between 18G1 and I.sTi' Emigration, the new system of railway 

the commerce of Italy with Austria-IIun- service, the drafting awsiy of the strong 

garv rose from sixty-seven millions of and capable from districts where lliey 

francs to four liundreil and forty-seven had been too numerous into others 

millions. where they could be utilized in manii- 

Tlie civil engineer is a personage much faeturing and agriculture, the iipliiiild- 

resiiected iu Italy, and with reason, for ing of a s|)leiidi;! new navy, — all these 



ErRol'E IX STORM AXI) CALM. 



4(1.') 



things had awakened the iince dei)eiid- 
ent and shiftless populations to a sense 
of dignity. 

The Italian suddenly aiipeared in the 
great commercial towns of P'raiice and 
Spain, in Algeria, and in tlie Levant. 
When he found the taxation in his home 
district too heavy t<.i bear he closed his 
cottage door, and, taking his wife and 
children by the hand, departed for the 
nearest seaport, and set iiis foot ui)on 
the ships wliieh took hiui to .South 
America or to other lands l)eyond tlie 
sea. But he always took away with him 
the hope that he migiit return to sliare 
tlie new future, which now looked so 
bright and promising. 

Literature, painting, sculpture revived ; 
and, although tiiose liberal arts in which 
Italy h.ad once led the world were ai)- 
proached with that timidit}- whicii is 
natural in the race that has always had 
the best models of the greatest masters 
before its eyes, the achievements were at 
once honoral)le and many. Visitors to 
the Milan Exhibition, in 1881, were con- 
stantly expressing their astonishment, as 
they passed from aisle to aisle of the 
great palace in which were grouped the 
products of Italian industry and art. It 
was evident that the country had re- 
sumed its old position in the doiiiain of 
industrial art ; that the glass-makers of 
to-day in Venice were no whit inferior to 
their splendid predecessors of the middle 
ages, and that there were still to be found 
men who knew the lustre of majolicas, 
and who understood the subtlety of 
Roman form in jewelry, in mosaics, and 
in the inlaying of delicate furniture. In 
tile galleries devoted to painting, the 
critics from Paris, from London, and 
Vienna expressed their holy honor at 
the deep blue of the skies, the pnri)le 
waters, and the general impression of 
dazzling sunshine, opalescent wave, and 



tropical moonlights ; but tiiese critics 
could not deny that the new Italian 
painters painted from nature, and that 
in tlieir devotion to subjects taken frimi 
tlieir own land and lieneath their own 
sky there was a national feeling as keen 
.'ind as pronounced as that which had 
been manifest in politics in the peninsula 
from 18G(j to tlie occupation of Rome. 
Hut this very nationalization of painting 
seemed to siiut out the Italian painters 
of average merit from tlie great exhibi- 
tions in northern Europe, to which they 
had sometimes sent spi'cimens of their 
work. They had emancipated them- 
selves from the school of Foutaiuebleau 
and Barbizon, and, instead of painting 
the fleecy skies, the grays and lilues of 
nf)rtlieni Frencii schools, the deep and 
soft greens, and the dolls and lakes 
and glades enshrouded in the luminous 
liaze of C'orot, Diaz, and Rousseau, had 
put upon canvas the glories of .Sorrento 
and of Naples Bay, the pine woods of 
Ravenna and the sandy slopes by the 
Adriatic, or the gorgeous colors on the 
Venetian horizon, where fantastic arclii- 
tecture seems to spring by magic fioni 
sea and sky inextricably bleiuled. In 
literature there liad not been so great a 
decay as in the otlier arts ; but the ful- 
filment of the national asiiirations un- 
doubtedly gave it a firmer purpose and a 
stronger vitality. 

Out of tlie twenty-eight millions of 
native Italians the great majority are de- 
voted to agriculture. Tiie culture of the 
silk-worm, of rice, of tlie vine, of oil, of 
figs, raisins, almonds, chestnuts, oranges, 
lemons, can be made profitable witli 
smaller expense tliaii in any other 
European country. The wine and sillv 
industries have within the last few years 
assumed great importance. Italy ex- 
ports to France millions ui)oii millions of 
gallons of wines, inferior in point of 



40() ETROPE IX STORM AM) CALM. 

fiibricntioii to thost' of her nciiililjiir Stiiti'. estiinatrd that lU'aily cvcrv un'mlKT of 

hut sound and whok'some, and often the rural poiiuhitioii of the kingdom has 

used in the niakini; of those imitations to lind 1!) or '20 lire, something like §4, 

of famous lirands whicii the French per year to support the government 

send to what they call •• eccentric'" revenue, 

countries. Kvci'y year frc.im sixty to seventy-five 

Only thirty-six jier cent, of the total thousand young meu are swept away into 
area of Italy is yet under cultivation ; the standing army, to serve for three 
yet Italy manages to proclucc in a pios- years in the infantry and four years in the 
perous year six himdred million gallons of cavalrv : and a second draft of sixt^' 
wine, Tiiore olives than any other country thousand is taken from the farms and 
in Kuropi". and one hundred and fortv workshops to serve six months under 
million bushels of wlieat ; to send Great the flag, lioth afterwards passing into the 
r>ritaiii oil and hemp and fruit, sulphur, reserve anil the mobile militia. Every 
<'hemical products, wine. tlax. and iron valid Italian man n-mains in the Italian 
ore, and to take in return vast quantities arjuv, in the active or in the reserve, 
of Cotton, iron, coal, and woollens; to until lie is thirty-nine years old. Italy, 
cm|ilo\ mole than one hundrccl and from her twelve military "'regions," as 
twenty thousand women and two-thirds as she calls them, can now muster some- 
many children in her silk fact(jries ; and thing like a million of soldiers, of which 
from her ricli pasturages to exjjort scores half a million are in the infantry, twenty- 
of tliousands of c.-ittle, sheep, and swine, two regiments in the cavalry, and nearly 
In s[)ite of the chronic evils of almost one hundred and fifty thousand men in 
unixcr-al ignorance among the peasant the artillery service. The mobile and 
classes, and higii taxation, the country the territorial militia is estimati'd at nine 
JKis sei'U its credit rise slowly , -Hid steaililv lumdred and tliirty thousand strong, 
until iis paper money is to-(l.-i\ as good which, added to the active, would give 
as t;-old. In each of the great general nearly two millions; but the putting on 
divisions of the countiT, Piedmont, foot for immediate service of half this 
Liij;uria. I.onibardv. \'c:iiic. Kniilia, Tus- numl>er would be a gigantic effort for the 
canv. Maicia, Umliria. and Rome, country. 

Xaples. Sicily, and Sardinia, order is Italy is justly proud of her new navy, 

now uniformly enforced. Iirigandage al- which is a kind of mystilication for the 

most cutirelv done away with, a mililary rest of Europe. The English, the French, 

service sternly insisted upon, and one and the (iermans all fail to undei'Stand 

kind of money is current through all why the new kingdom must have nine- 

thesc States, which were once so proud teen huge iron-clads, some of them, like 

of their own petty institutions, coinage, the"Duilio" and the ••I)andolo,"can-ying 

and traditions. four one-hundred-ton. nHizzle-U>ading 

As to the refoi'ui of ignorance, Italy Armstrong gnus, and wearing armor 

is doing itsbest. IClementary instruction nearly two feet thick at the water-line, 

is obligatory and gratuitous by law ; but and eighteen inches thick on the turrets, 

the resources of the country ai-e not sutli- with their gigantic guns mounted, and 

cient to maintain schools in all the worked by hydraulic mechanism. The 

country districts, nor can they stand the country has sijent four millions of dollars 

strain for many years to come. It is each for those two vast vessels, the 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



407 



•■Tt;ilia" and the "Lepaiito," each foiu' 
luuidred feet long, seventy-two feet 
broad, and with an extreme drauglit of 
water exceeding thirty feet. 

These are the largest warships ever 
yet built ; and their engines are twice 
as powerful as the engines of ^any other 
armored ship ever constructed. The 
rdh- which such formidalile monsters 
will play in some future encounter 
in the Adriatic or the Mediterranean 
cannot be prophesied. At present one 
can only suppose that Italy is bnilding 
these prodigious ships as floating for- 
tresses, evidences of her new strength 
and greatness, and her determination to 
defend herself, if necessarj'. The " Itnlia" 
and the "Lepanto" have, like the ships 
liefoi'e mentioned, ench four one-hundred- 
ton ):)reech-loadingguns, carried in a bar- 
bet, protected by nineteen inches of steel- 
faced armor ; and, in addition to these, 
eighteen four-ton six-inch breech-load- 
ingguns mounted on the broadsides. The 
old arsenal of Venice, from which went 
out thegalleys of " Dandolo," tlie beaked 
vessels whose crews made Venice the 
mistress of the seas, has recovered its 
activity, and the Venetians toil night and 
day on the engines for the defense of the 
great country in which their diverse in- 
dividualitiers have so lately been merged. 

Thus, after the completion of her nu- 
merous projects for improving, building 
and rebuilding, fortifying, defending, 
and expanding, Italy has been so busy 
at home thnt she has played but small 
part in the international movements since 
tiie creation of her unity. Within her 
own l.ioundarics she had had plenty to 
occupy her attention. 

With the entry into Rome, in .Tiily of 
I'STl, of Victor Emmanuel, and the es- 
tablislmient of the capital of the new 
kiiigdiim in the Eternal City, began a 
formidable duel between Church and 



State, which was continued without in- 
termission until the death of the great 
representatives of each power. Pius IX., 
whom the Catholic world was pleased 
to consider as the prisoner of the ex- 
communicated King of Italy, and Victor 
Emmanuel finished their lives at the 
beginning of 1878 ; the King, who had 
set Ills hand to the decree regulating the 
funeral ceremonies of the Pontiff, being 
destined to pass away first. From 1870 
to 1878 the Bisliop of Rome, the Vicar 
of Jesus Christ, Successor of St. Peter, 
Prince of the Apostles, Supreme Pontiff 
of the Universal Church, had acted as the 
high-priest of European conservatism, 
and had set his face sternly against all 
the ardent and generous attem|its of the 
House of Savoy to reconcile him to the 
upspringing of the new nationality and 
the emancipation from the dogmas of the 
church. 

Pius IX. was one of the most remark- 
able men who ever occupied the pajial 
throne, and he sat longer upon that 
throne tlian any of his predecessors. 
lie had the face of a saint, and the stern- 
ness and vigor of a soldier. He had, 
indeed, been a soldier in his youth, lint 
a curious nervous inlirmity rendered it 
unlikely that he could succeed in a mili- 
tary career. So he decided to take holy 
orders. He was the son of a certain 
Count Jerome Mastai-Ferretti, a de- 
scendant of an old family, and a very 
good one. At eighteen 3'oung Mastai 
was a Liberal, an enthusiast, and a Free- 
mason, which was thought a dreadful 
thing in Catholic Europe in tliosc davs. 
After the youth had deteimincd upon I'u- 
tering the priesthood he; studied theology 
carefully at Rome, and was ordained a 
priest in 1819. In 1840 he had already 
reached the cardinalate, and six jcars 
later, when Gregory XVI. died, an old 
friend and fellow-pupil called the atten- 



408 



EVROPE I.V STORM AXD CALM. 



tioii of the Collo<;i> of Crtnlinals to Mns- 
1ai"s inorits, and lie was made Pope in 
ISK'i. He took the iiaine of Puis IX., 
i]i miiiioiv of Pius VII., who was his 
rehitive. 

For a. lonij; time, ami esi)eeially duriny; 
the storniv days of l!~ils, the new Pope's 
jiositiou was but vaguely defined. At 
one time he was aeelaimed and weleomed 
liv till' Demoerats of Italy as likely to 
be the leader of their cause and to liriug 
liberty back into the land from which it 
had so long been an exile. P)Ut those 
who had been uionientarily deceived by 
his professions of reform were griev- 
ously disappointed when they found that 
he cared little for practical liberty, and 
that, although he was willing to be Pope, 
he could not, as he quaintly said, " get 
himself damned to please the Lilierals." 
Yet he had apparently gone so far 
towards Liberalism at one time that 
there was a conspiraej' among the mem- 
bers of the Pontifical government to 
bring him back to a correct attitude by 
the ferrorizing measures which had so 
often, it was said, l)een practised against 
refractory Po|ies. 

In answer to the a|ipcal of Milan and 
Venice the Romans begged the Pope to 
take part in the movement for indepen- 
dence, and to send an army coriis against 
Austria. Pins IX. hesitated, but at last 
he sent seventeen thousand men to take 
part in the campaign, which pleased the 
Anstrians so little that they hanged a 
Koman soldier whom they had taken 
prisoner, an<l inscribed upon his gallows : 
" Thus do we tii'at the soldiers of Pius 
IX.' 

In 1848 the Pope was a liolder politi- 
cian than any great secular sovcri'igu in 
Europe. When he saw the Revolution 
fairlv in pi'ogress, and observed that the 
sweeping changes which were niaile in 
France were likely to be insisted on in 



Italy, he began the policy of reaction. 
Ilis ministry was unpopular ; his chief 
minister was assassinated ; the people 
were fiu'ions ; and the Pojie had to fly 
across the frontier to Neapolitan terri- 
tory, where he installeil the court and 
called the di[iloniatic corps around him. 
It was more than a year and a half before 
he was reiilaccd upon the throne of Peter, 
and, siu'rounded by the French bayonets, 
without which his career wouhl have been 
closed a generation before, he began the 
enunciation of that formidable series of 
doctrines which has i-esulted in .a most 
complete change in the attitude of the 
Catholic Church to modern institutions. 
From the day of Garibaldi's successful 
expedition to Sic'ly down to the day of 
his death Pius IX. maintained the atti- 
tude of one persecuted, bowing toilecrees 
witii which he coald not interfere, but 
which he refused to admit as other than 
transitory and impious. lie was quick 
to see that in the march of events in half- 
a-dozen European countries there were 
incessant menaces to the tem|)oral power 
of the Church ; and, while he opposed in 
graceful and dignified language the noii 
possiimxs of the papacy, he now and 
then, in his more familiar conversations, 
inveighed with all the vigor of a politician 
against the enemies of the Church. 

When he heard that the Italian Parlia- 
ment had proclaimed Victor Emmanuel 
King of Italy, in 18G1, and had declared 
that Rome was the capital of tlie new 
kingdom, although the coiu't still re- 
mained in Turin. Pins IX declarid Uiat 
he could not, without gravel v wounding 
his conscience, make any alliance with 
modern ci\ilization. Shortly after that 
he, in one of his allocutions, condemned 
that same modern civilization, wdiich 
" does not even prevent heretics from 
taking imblic office, and which oi)ens 
Catholic schools to their children." In 



EFROPE LV STORM AND CALM. 



409 







THE LAST BENEDICTION OF POPE PIUS IX. 



410 F.URQVE IX STORM A.VD f'ALM. 

l.S(14. he piililislicil :i svlhilms. in wliich and (It'linc that it is a dogina diviiiolj' 
the Chiirrh riiliuiuated against the whole revealed that tlie Roman Pontiff, wlien 
Democratic theory, and opposed eate- he si)caks ex cuilicdra, defiiiinji; a doc- 
iiDiieally and wilii the mo>t Iremendons trine regardiiiL!; faith or morals to l)e 
energy every doeti'iue of the French Rev- held hy the Universal C'hnreh, is. liy the 
olution and of the little revolutions T3ivine assistance promised to him in 
which had grown out of it. and almost blessed Peter, possessed of that infalli- 
every achievement oi modern science bility with which the Divine Redeemer 
whii-h had led to Liberalism in thought willed that his Church should be endowed 
and .action. in deliniug doctrine regarding fiiith or 
In ISCT he pulilished an encyclical let- morals; and that therefoi-e such defini- 
ter against tiie Italian government, and tions of the Roman Pontiff are of tliem- 
condemned all the laws voted b_v the selves, and not tlu'oiigh the consent of 
national parlian)ent for secularizing the the Church, infallible." The imposing mi- 
estatis of the Church. He declared nority wiiich arose against this decision — 
against the increased facilities for the minority composed of (ierinan and French 
higlier instruction of women in France, ecclesiastics alike — had no ctfect upon 
aoainst the liberal laws which Austria Pins JX. As the wave of Democracy rose 
was Ijeginning to make in harmony witli he stood more erect and sterner than ever 
modern ideas, — laws recognizing the lil)- upon the rock of Peter. His discourses 
erty of <-onscieuce and of the (H'css, mixed were full of allnsioiis to the wicked war 
marriagi's, primary instruction, etc., made against the Church, to tlie perver- 
These laws, he said, were abominable, sion of law, to corrupt artilices for l)reak- 
ciinlrarv to doctrine, to the rights and to ing the bonndsof salutary authority. He 
the constitution of the Church. In 18()8 enjoyed to the full his triumph in the 
he sent the famous golden rose, blessed Vatican Council. He saw himsi'lf sol- 
by his own hand, to Queen Isabella of cmnly proclaiinecl as infallilile. all his 
Siiain, so soon destined to fly before her opponents except two at the tiual vote, 
enraged people. "When the Spanish Re- which was in public session, abstaining, 
pnlillc came, he forbade the Spanish rather than to place themselves on record 
bishops to take seats in the Cortes or as opposed to the Successor of Peter, 
to take the oath of fidelity to the con- Thus at the very moment of the de- 
stitution of their coimtry. In IHfi.S he vatiou of the Poiie, who had rided in 
jiublisheil a liuU, convoking the Ecnmeni- Rome for a generation, to the highest 
cal Comicilat Rome to meet in December honor possil>le to attain on earth, he saw 
of the following year. In this council his si)iritual capital invaded by the 
he for the second time undertook the Italian King, and the old [lapal resi- 
profounil modilication of the ta'eed of dence of the (^)uirinal occupied )>y the 
the C'atholic Church. In 1854 he had royal re|iresentative of a newly unitc(l 
formally definecl the dogma of the Iin- people. 

macailateConception ; and now he brought Wlien Victor Emmanuel came to the 

together tile great dignitaries of the (.^uirinal he was the most popular ligure 

whole Catholic world, that they might in Italy. Pius IX. even had a secret 

join witli him in asserting tlie infallibility liking foi' him ; and it is said tliat when 

of the \'icar of Christ U[ion earth. The thi' lie (jiihiiitinimn lay dying in tlie 

dogma was thus expressed : " We teach ualace which he had taken from tlie 



EUROPE f.V STORM AXD CALM. 



411 



Pope, and the Pope himself was con- 
fined to his bed, and know tliat his hist 
liimr was not far off, liis priestly heart 
yearned towards the I'xconnnnnieated 
son of the Church. lie called to iiim a 
cure of the apostolic palace, and said, 
" Munsignore, take a carringc and go 
<lirectly to the Quirinal ; there present 
yourself in my name, and beg to speak to 
the King. I give yon full power to re- 
lieve him from all the condenniations." 

The prelate was so astonished that 
the Pope had to repeat his order liefore 
he would go to execute it. But he had 
no sooner arrived at the Quirinal tlinn he 
■was sent back. The ministers, the 
aides-de-cmnjJ, the physicians, ;dl (ire- 
vented him from ari'iving at the King's 
bedside. It is said that tlu^ old Pope 
turned uneasily on his couch, ;iiid said, 
" Ah, the unliai)py creatures! they wish 
to arrest the pardon of God ; and this 
poor culpable King is no more free in 
his death-bed than he was on the thrfnie. 
If ever I regretted not being alile to get 
about the streets of my city of Pome it 
is now. I wish I had the force to get 
up. I would go to the Quirinal myself, 
and I would sec whether I shouhl not be 
let in ! " 

But this movement of charity, ns the 
Catholic world thonglit it, indicated no 
weakening of papal sentiment towards 
the House of Savoy. Pius IX. liked to 
depict Victor Emmanuel II. as a good 
Catholic, who was compelled by a host 
of wicked people surrounding him to do 
disagreeable things to the Church. He 
was fond of speaking of the sovereign 
as a gay and sensual gentleman, who 
was in his secret heart a bit of a bigot, 
and who invoked at least three times a 
tlay St. Andrew of Aveliue. It was 
said that the monarch signed the decrees 
ex|iclling the Jesuits, suppressing the 
religious orders, confiscatintj the eccle- 



siastical estates, obliging the priesthood 
to military service ; but immediately 
wrote to the Pope letters of supplica- 
tion, s.aying that he was constrained, and 
promised to do all he could to attenuate 
the effects of tlieso mensurcs. Pius IX. 




VICTOR EMMANUEL AND I'UINCK HUMBERT 
AT THE QUIRINAL. 

sometimes called the King the " great 
breast-beater," because he liked to 
picture him in the attitude of tlie [leni- 
tent who strikes upon his bosom, and 
says " Jl/p« culpa! mea culpa!'' \y\wn 
the evil is done. 

It was impossible for a man like 
Pius IX. to divest himself of the influ- 
ence of his snrroundiuijs, and so he 



412 



ECROrE IN STORM AM) CALM. 



could not believe lliat the wise ;uul 
generous King, whose great heart wns 
filled with such a liurning flame of love 
for his country, could raise himself l\v a 
majestic effort, and one which will render 
his name immortal, above the tradition 
and the petty prejudices in which he had 
been raised, and affront the mighty 
anger of Rome, with tlie serene con- 
sciousness of one who felt that he was 
doing a duty which, although it might 
be disagreeable for a time, was necessary 
to the safety of the State. 

Victor Emmamiel enjoyed the last 
years of his life to the full. He looked 
l)ack upon his friendship with Cavour 
with pride and tender affection. Per- 
haps he regretted now and then the 
necessities of his political situation, 
whicli had made him the opponent of 
so great and so energetic a patriot as 
Garibaldi; but, with one sou called to 
the throne of .Spain, and his own parlia- 
ment installed in the Kternal City, which 
had so long been the Mecca of his 
hopes; with his family about him in the 
Qnirinal, — he had every desire lo be 
courteous and conciliatory in his rela- 
tions with the Holy See. 

In his capacity of sovereign of a new 
and ]i(iwerfnl natiou he felt it his duty 
to make visits abroad ; and his journeys 
to Vienna and Uerlin in 187.'! doubtless 
had much to do with the formation, some 
years later, of the alliance between 
North (k'vmany and Austria, and did 
sometliiug to weaken the hostility which 
had so long existed between invaded 
Italy and invading Austria. In 1875 
the Emperor of Austria went even to 
Venice, which had been so recently taken 
out of his grasp, and in the same year 
the old Emjieror of Oerniany went to 
Milan. The beautiful northern city was 
lesplendeut for a week, and the Italian 
public blustered a little iu those days, 



claiming that their country had reached 
the stature of a tirst-class power. 

Under Mclor Emmanuel's reign the 
noble and self-sacrificing Mazzini died, 
at Pisa, and his funeral, at Genoa, was 
attended by more than eighty thousand 
people. 'Hie country was not unmindful 
iu its hapi)y days of those who had 
worked so industriously iu varying paths 
and liy widely diverse methods for its 
unification, and beautiful monuments 
v,-ere erected to the memory of Cavour 
and to Mazzini in Turin an<l Rome. 
The history of Italy, from the estal)- 
lishment of the national capital at Rome 
until Victor Ennnanuel's death, was full 
of instances of devotion to the memory 
of patriots. 

Victor Ennnanuel diecl in January of 
1878, after a brief illness, and a great 
sadness fell uiion the peninsula. There 
were few Liberal Italians who would 
have ventured to say that he had 
not been a good King. " He was," 
says a French writer, •■in afipearance 
like an ancient Cimbrian chief, who 
possessed what lie had liy right of con- 
quest. He was iiatieut and resolute, 
a clever and dexterous politician, and 
daily gave proof of rare sagacity, \\ilh 
his vast shoulders, his Herculean limits, 
his face, with its irregular and fero- 
cious lineaments, he was striking and 
impressive in uniform, with his helmet 
on his huge head. With his lofty ami 
majestic carriage, his siiarkling eyes, 
and especially in b:ittle. he was quite 
fine." Even his Catholic enemies 
speak enthusiastically of his soldierly 
qualities. A Catholic writer has said 
of him that "he knew little of literature, 
and was hardly interested in art, finding 
' those things,' as he called them, in- 
compatible with the trade cf arms or 
the exorcise of the chase. But he had 
the temperament of his race, the foxes 



EUROPE LV STORM AXD CALM. 



4ia 



of Savoy. He excelled in bringing 
out the resources of his good sense, 
when he was uniong his ministers, 
whom he treated as he pleased, like 
most of the constitutional sovereigns 
who have had councils thrust upon 
tliem. On the field of battle he main- 
tained a noble attitude, in spite of his 
Hun-like heaviness. He was rather too 
fond of boasting of his militarj' ex- 
ploits. He would say, with the accent 



of a hero : ' I am covered with 
wounds,' when he had only been 
touched upon the tiiigh. . . . He 
was no mediocre monarch. He knew 
how to make his homely visage gra- 
cious, amiable, and almost handsome. 
His voice was now rude, now tender. 
Huge and portly, he knew how to take 
on soldierly or royal manners, accord- 
ing to the person whom he was desir- 
ous of impressing." 



414 EUROPE y.V STORM AND CALM. 



CHAPTKR FORTY-FOUR. 

The Pope at the Valic.-m. — The Daily LilV of Leo XIII. — Its Picturesque, Spiritual, and Political Aspects. 
— The Contiuuaiire cil'llie War Bctweeu tlie Vatican ami the (Jiiirinal. — The Aims and Ambitions 
oftlic Catholic Parly in Italy. — Evoluiion or Revolution. — Prophecies of the Catholics. — " Unre- 
deemed Italy." 



rpiIK It^iliau iiaticiii insisted that 
J- \'ict<if Emiiuuiiicrs mortal rcinaiiis 



isisti'il that States. Not li>ni;' ao;(i it was (.letoniiiiii'tl 
to Imilil a royal railway train ; ami when 

should lie liiid in the Paiitlieoii, tliat the King saw the jealousy awakened in 

sjilendid liiiildinn wliich stands among tlie different sections of the peninsula 

tlik' ruins (if old IJume ;is the iiartirular as to the establishment which should 

jewel iif ancient architecture; and there h:ive tlie iirivilege of constructing the 

the monarch is entombed under the same trtiin, he arranged it so that some portion 

luiuhtN nxif tliat shelters the gentle of tlie ( ijuiptige sliotild lie built in etieh 

Raiihtiel. To the tlirciiie of Ittily came part <if Italy where rtiilwtiy works were 

I'rinrr I'uilierlii. who. at fust iiiiich liictiti'd. 

eritieised. and treated [lerliaps with The King has ;i civil list of about 
mild suspieioii liy certain factions of his 15,<t()0,000 lire, a modest fortune for a 
[icwpie. lias IviiowH how to win the af- Eiu-o[iean sovereign ; and to this is 
Cections tif the iiatinn. and tit times added ](!(», 000 francs or liiv. for tlie ex- 
to merit their enthnsitistic a|iplause. peiises of representtition. This is less 
Tueiv IS mettd ami grit in these sons of than is tillowed to the President of the 
Victor Emnitiimel : in the stately, ptile- French Heptiblic. The family gave up 
faced Prince Aiuadeo, wdio was lirtive all i(s private domains to the country in 
enongli ti> put away froai him tlu' ci-owii l.SlS. When the King or memliers of 
of Spiun when he saw that he coulil not his ftimily travel from place to place 
with self-respect retain it; and in this in Italy, all the expenses of journey 
ciiually stately and e(iually iiale-faccci and residence are paid by the nation. 
King Umberto, who coolly sent his com- King Unibcrto s[icci:illy likes the (.^uir- 
[ilimeiits to the Pope on the day that he inal, not because his residence there is :i 
reached the throne, ;ind who stood up sign of the victory over Rome, but be- 
in his father's tracks with as much etise cttuse lie pas,sed many happy years there 
ar.d e<i:ilness :is if he had practised the as a [iriiice before he took responsibili- 
allitiide for vars. ties iqion his shoulders. 

King Unibcrto and (^nccn Marghcrita This Quirinal Ptdtice w;is luiilt for the 

have already on lluir ivconl a host of po|ie,s, and has been a tavorite residence 

courageous, generous, ami kindly deeds, of the teiituits of Peter's chair since 

Their chief aim is to do all in tlua'r the time of Gregory XIII. It lias a 

[lower to consolidate the national unity; huge (■otirt-yard surrounded with a |ior- 

aiid even ill little things the new king is tico, a niMgnificent royal hall, the 

careful of the opinion of his various " Pauline Chapel," in which the cardi- 



EUROPE IN STORM AM) CALM. 



415 



iials used to assemble in couelave, ami 
where they were wont to vote for the elec- 
tion of the Popes. In this palace died Pius 
VII. ; and here he was made a [jrisoner 
by order of Najioleon I., when that 
energetic conqueror had had the papal 
doors smashed open by lilows from 
axes. 

Pins IX. escaped fn^m this palace in 
disguise iu 184 'J. Here was also the 
private chapel of the Pope, in which is 
one of the finest works of Guido. The 
Pauline chapel was deconsecrated by the 
Poi)e on the evening of the entry of the 
Italian army into Rome, and on the 
same night the priceless pictures and 
tapestries were carried away to the 
Vatican. 

There is a new Pope at the Vatican, 
but there is no new policy there. The 
able and aggressive ecclesiastic who 
succeeded to Pius IX. accepted the 
legacy of the dead prelate ; and Pa])al 
Rome is as unbending in its attitude as 
it was under Victor Ennnanuel. Leo 
XIII., as he chose to call himself, because 
he had a great veneration for Leo XII., 
would in anj' station of life ha\ e l)een a 
remarkable man. His originality and 
his firmness of will are unb(>und<'(l. 
AVhen he was Archbishop of Perugia 
lie came into collision with Victor 
Emmanuel, who was then lieginuing to 
extend the Liberal influence of the Savo}' 
Monarchy into Ital}\ A royal decree dis- 
persed the members of certain religious 
orders iu the diocese, whereupon the 
archbishop wrote a letter to the King, 
protesting in the most vigorous language 
against the repeated insults to the holy 
religion, and alluding to the miserable 
ciindition to wdiich the new policy was 
reducing the monkish fraternity. When 
Victor Emmanuel arrived at Perugia, in 
18G9, the Archbishop was invited, with 
the civil and military authorities, to 



present his homage to the King ; but he 
declined. 

The new Pope had to wait many years 
for a Cardinal's hat, which he had well 
won by his services to the Cliurch in 
Belgium, and other northern countries, 
for Cardinal Autonelli, who had such 
[lowerful influence over Pius IX., was 
hostile to this grave, studious, ascetic 
Archbishop Pecci. Gregory XVI., the 
[)redecessor of Pius IX., had been ready 
to give him the cardiualatc in 184(j ; Ijut 
when Pius IX. came in, he made the Arch- 
bishop, who was meantime installed in 
Perugia, wait many years. 

After Antonelli's death Cardinal Pecci 
rapidly came into prominence ; and iu 
the autunni of 1877, when the rumor of 
the death of Pius IX. was spread abroad 
iu Rome every morning, Pecci's name 
was constantly mentioned as a probable 
successor. He had been made a kind of 
vice-pope while the holy see was vacant 
during the illness of Pius IX., and every 
morning his enemies and friends expected 
to see him come down from his apart- 
ments to strike his mallet upon the fore- 
head of the dead Pontiff, and address to 
him the cousecratcd formula: "Dost 
tliou not sleep?" 

When on the 9th of February, 187.-<, 
Pius IX. died, there was little endeavor 
made to intrigue against the man who 
seemed so clearly destined for the succes- 
sion to the chair. The Cardiu.al was very 
modest, and seemed half inclined to re- 
fuse the great dignity; but when, after 
the numerous votes iu the College of 
Cardinals, after all the votes of polite- 
ness, as they are called, according to the 
Italian custom, had been made, around 
Cardinal Pecci's name the necessary 
votes for the election were grouped ; so 
the additional questious were asked liim, 
and he replied: '"I think myself un- 
worthy of the supreme magistracy, but 



41() EUROPE IX STdh'.U AX/) fALM 

as the Holy Collpgo seems ti) be agreed, fnnji one end to llii> dtlier. " The t'lieiid 
I must sulimit to tlie will of liod. In was auuiseil at this, and put him to the 
icmemhiauee of Leo XII.. for whom J test; wliereiipou the I'ope reeited pas- 
have aKva^s profvssed a great veiiera- sage after [)assage in a deep. melodi(.)iis 
tiou. 1 wish to be ealled Leo XllL" voice, evidently with great delight. In 
Thei! the first deaeon, appearing in the some of his eneyelieal letters there is 
exterior Jikji- of the Church of St. Peter, the stamp of Dante's style. When he 
uttered the solium W(M'ds. whieli an- was arehl)isliop of Perugia he wnjte 
nonneed to the Komans the election of a mueli poetry, now in Latin, nou in 
new Pope : — Italian. 

" ^iii nil lit ill riiliis iiiiiiiliii III lamiii II III . It the l'o[ie is to be considered as 

Piipiiiii Jiiihi-iiiiis Eiiiiiii'iitisti. iir-Ih'r- [irisoner to the wicked Italian gox'ern- 

eriiiiUK. Diiiiiiii. Ciinliii. Pn-i-i clcrfns mcnt it must lie allowed that he has a 

est ill ,S II III III II in. J'untijici-'ni, et I'lrijil sibi splendid piison. The great \'atican 

iioiiivii Li'O XIII." cluster of [lalaces and museums has 

Le<j XIIL is tall, and as lean as a monk more than thiitecn thousand rooms, 
of the old Tliebaid. Ills white r(.)be twenty vast courts, eight slate stairways, 
floats loosely about his almost ileshless and an iulinilc number of halls, galleries, 
limits. It is sometimes said of him that chapels, corridors, libraries, anil muse- 
he is the image of \'oltaire ; but, while urns. The .Sistine Chapel and the \';itican 
the exi)ressi<in of his fat'e is not unlike Lilii'ary, the Loggie of liajjljael, and the 
that of the great philosopher and sceptic, iiictuieani! scul|)ture gallery form cer- 
it has less of malice and of sarcastic tainly a nolde resilience fo|- a scholar and 
vigor, more of stern <letermination. a priest. 

tempered by the indefinable sweetness The present I'ope leads a laborious 

which seems inseparable from the priestly life, like ail !iis pie(lccessors. He rises 

expression, and is doubtless lioru of at six o'clock, ami after a hasty toilet 

purify of life and temperate manners, engages in i.le\-otions. At lialf-past 

Leo XIII. in prixate life is simple, affec- se\en he goes to his jiarticular chapel, 

liouate, amiable, witty ; his face is pale, wheri- he celebrates mass. On .Sunday a 

but his eves are deep, cleiir. and, small congregation is admitteil, and he 

despite his advanced age, s|iarklinu. He distriljutes the I'aicharist. He next at- 

is not an orator, like Pius IX., but he is tends a second mass, after which he re- 

a ch'X'er wi'iter ; in the presence of a tm-ns to liis private aiiartments. where 

crowd ol listeners he would be trouliled. he breakfasts alone, very ijuickly and 

Pius IX. was a leal orator, taking his modestly. 

inspiration from the tlirou;^. Whether The part of the Vatican which has 

he writes in Latin or in Italian, the new been specially de\-oteil to |iapal lesideuce 

Pope is thoroughly master of his pm. since the sixteenth ciaitury oxcrlooks Si , 

He is a st.atesman who has been well Peter's s(piare. In it there is a nioiiu- 

iiourishcd in controversial law. and who mental staircase, having tuo hundicd 

likes polemics. Hi' is fond of Dante, and ninety-nine steps in white marble, 

and delighted at any new disco\ery (jf which serves the lialls in the thi'ce stories, 

an aniient and rare I'llition of the great Here is the famous '-Swiss (iuard." 

Florendne. He said one day to a friend : which still wer.rs the motley garb adopt vd 

•'1 can recite the -Dixina C'ommedia' b\' it in the middle ages. 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



417 



On the first floor is tlie '• Hall of the 
Consistory,"' where the Pope consults 
the cardinals on the affairs of the eiiureh. 
At the end of this hall is the pontifical 
throne. Through a series of antechain- 
hers one reaches the private ofHcos of 
the Pope ; and here is the hall of the 
nolile guard, composed of eighty mem- 
bers of the nobility, com- 
manded Ijy a Roman prince. 
Their uniform is that of the 
garde du rorps of Louis 
XV III. Formerly this guard 
accompanied the Pope in all 
ceremonies ; Ijut now that he 
goes out l^nt little, the insti- 
tution is falling into decay. 
The " throne hall " is used for 
all official receptions. Beyond 
are the private apartments, 
the bedrooms the dining- 
rooms, and the lil)rary of the 
great head of the Church. 

There is little harmony, an(i 
not much exterior splendor, in 
this group of palaces and mu- 
seums, famous throughout 
the civilized world ; but so 
many traditions cluster about 
the Vatican, so many histor- 
ical souvenirs are evoked by 
it, that not even the most 
prosaic traveller sees it with- 
out a thrill. In the old 
palace attached to the Basilica 
of St. Peter, which is said to have dated 
from the time of Constantiue, Charle- 
magne resided when he came to Rome to 
be crowned by Leo III., and Pope Inno- 
cent III. entertained one of the kings 
of Aragon in the palace which succeeded 
to this i)rimitive one. For more than a 
thousand years the Popes lived in the 
Lateran Palace, to which good Catholics 
suspect the present Italian government 
of a wish to transfer them again. 



After the return of the Popes from 
their temporary home at Avignon, in 
the closing years of the fourteenth cen- 
tury, they adopted the Vatican as their 
permanent residence. Gregory XL 
liked the pontifical palace because of the 
neighborhood of the Castle of St. 
Angelo, which he thought afforded the 




ATTENDANTS AND OFFI- 
CIALS AT THE VATI- 

^' jtapal court greater se- 

curity than it enjoyed 
elsewhere. Each Pope 
seems to have done all 
that the resources of his 
treasury allowed to beautify and improve 
this head-quarters of the hierarchy of the 
Christian world. .Sixtus the IV. built 
the .Sistinc Chapel; Innocent VIII. the 
Belvedere ; the great Julius II. the cel- 
ebrated" Loggie," the terraces, and laid 
the foundations of the Vatican nuiseum. 
It was he who placed in this museum the 
Laocoou, the Apollo, and the Cleopatra. 
Under Raithael's direction Leo X. fin- 
ished the Loggie. Sixtus V. spoiled the 



418 



EURdrK IN STORM AXD CAL.W. 



unity of riv:iin:mti-\s jilrui ]i\ luiildiiii;- the 
\';itic:ui IJliniry across tlie architect's 
rectanulc. It was the same Pope wlio 
began the imposing (lahico on the east 
side of till' c(.>urt of the Loggie, wliich is 
now thi' ordinary residence of the Popes. 
ITrba.n VIII. ordered tiie construction of 
thoScahi Rcgia ; Clement XH'. and Pius 
VI. hnilt the line range of I'oonis t)ver the 




POPE T.EO XIII. IN HIS PRIVATE CABINET. 



museum named after tlieni ; Pius \\\. 
addeil tlie wing wliicli covers part of the 
ceh'lirated terrace ; Leo X. founded a 
pictui'c-gallei'y, which Gregory XVI. 
finislied ; and tliis hitter pontiff in- 
augurated tlie Ktruscun Museum. Pius 
IX. was never weary of contributing to 
tlie splendcii' of the Vatican. Under his 
reign tlie Loggie were enclosed in glass, 
thus saving Ivaiihael's frescoes from the 
ravages of weather; the picture-gal- 
leries were greatly iniiiroved, the grand 



state staircase was finished, and the re- 
ception-rooms were made superb with 
frescoes. 

Thus, for foui' centuries, the Popes 
have delighteil to leave behind them, as 
their esfiecial monuments, the practical 
execution of their ideas as to the enrich- 
ment of the sacred palace. It is said 
that Leo XIII. has conceived the idea 
of devoting all his spare 
leisure to the creation of 
a magnificent nionunieut 
comnieniorative of the 
extraordinary [ion tificate 
of Pius IX. The plan 
lias long been in process 
of elalioration, and the 
most distiTiguished sculp- 
tors in tlie kingdom have 
been consulted al)Out it. 
Each of the great acts 
of the reign of Pius IX. 
are, it is said, to be illus- 
trated by allegorical mar- 
ble groufis. 

The division of the 
l'o[)e's laborious day will 
be full of interest to .-dl. 
After his meagre lir.^t 
breakfast. — which heal- 
most invariabiv t .kes 
alone, although now and 
then, as a siieeial fnvor, 
wdiicli makes inlinite 
gossip in IvOine, he has one or two 
friends near him while he partakes of 
ills simple repast, — he goes to work 
as systematically as the most ener- 
getic man of business. At half-past 
nine he receives the Cardinal Sec- 
retaiy of State, then the Cardinals 
wh(.i are prefects (.if congregations, the 
Secretary of Latin Letters, the Sec- 
retary of the Briefs, and the Princes ; 
finally sui'h persons as are admitted 
to the honor uf a special interview. 



EURCirE IN STORM AND CALM. 



419 



Ou Mondays, and sometimes on 'riuirs- 
days, he gives iniijlie receptions, a 
eeremouial which is familiar to thou- 
sands of American and Knglisli travel- 
lers. Leo XIII. is not so fond of 
these receptions as was Pius IX., al- 
though the latter prelate sometimes 
found his patience almost exhausted 
!)}■ the infinite number of questions as 
well as the great number of compli- 
ment.s huiled upon him by 
the enthnsiastic visitors. 
Anything that causes the 
present Pope a loss of 
time fatigues ami annoys 
him. He is not fond 
of making addresses to 
troops of pilgrims or sym- 
pathetic Frenchmen, or 
penitent Austrians, who 
come and bow at his 
feet. Pius IX. was more 
adroit iu his manner of 
treating the multitude 
than the new Pope can 
ever hope to be. The 
former had the more 
tact; the latter has the 
greater majesty. 

A good story is told of 
Pius IX .showing how even the successor 
of Peter may sometimes find his dignity 
give way under the pressure of a rude curi- 
osity or an indiscreet admiration. One 
day when the Pope was quite weary with 
a long public reception, a lady who 
had a special letter of introduction 
knelt before the Pope, begging for his 
benediction, which he bestowed as 
usual. 

The lady entered into a long con- 
fession of her many troubles. The 
Pope, who was ready to dro)) with fa- 
tigue, tried to console her, and the 
more he consoled the more she talked, 
until he was compelled to say that he 



must withdraw. Upon this she began 
with greater volubility than ever. 
'• Holy Father." 

" Wiiat will you liave more, m_y 
daughter? " 

'• Jly husband has begged me to 
give you his iihotograph." 

" V'er^- well ; I accept it. Thank him 
on my part." 

"But. IIolv Father" — 




THE POPE 

visr 



RECEIVES A 
TOR. 



"What next?" 

" I would like to take back to my 
husband your Iloliness's [ihotograph." 

" That is quite right. I will give 
you one ; " which he proceeded to do. 

■■ And now. Holy Father, if yon 
would kindl\ wi'itc your autograph on 
the back of the photograph." 

" Very well," said the Pope ; " I will 
do that also." 

Then he was aliout to throw down 
the pen with which he had hastily ^^ rit- 
ten his priestly signature, when the 
lady, laying hold of his skirts, said, 
" Holy Father, there is one thing 
more." 



420 



EVROI'E IN STORM AND CALM. 



" Iiuleeil ! " saifl tlio Pope, with a 
shiver of indigiiatiuii, " wliat can it 
be?" 

" I must ask yon for tlie pen with 
which yon have written tlie autograpli." 

'' Very well, take the pen, the ink- 
stand, and, for Heaven's sake, go at 
once, my good woukid," cried tlie Pope, 
releasing his skirts and making his way 
to his private a})artinents. 

Li'ii XIII. sometimes invites visitors 
who please liirn into his private rooms, 
— a pi'oceeding which donbtless would 
have scandalized the other Po|)es. If 
a delegation of workmen comes to lay 
an address at his feet he shows them 
all about, takes them even into his 
bedroom, chatting on secidar and re- 
ligions matters with the greatest free- 
dom, and fi'eiiuently make^ many c(.>n- 
verts and friends for life among 
tlie lower classes in this way. He 
speaks French with a sti'oiig Italian 
accent, l)ut with skill and vigor of ex- 
pression. 

At half-past two the Pope dines 
alone and frugally ; then he takes a 
little nap, never more than a ([uarter 
of an hiiur in length; his doctors call 
this l.is '•.\rmistice," and insist upon 
this dailv leisiu'c. As tsoon as he goes 
out of his pii\ate room he recites the 
divine (idice, reads for a shoi't time in 
a. ri'ligious book, and then goes l)ack 
to his duties. At five o'clock he re- 
ceives the bishops, who always come 
to bring him the news, and to tell him 
of troubles vvliicb crop up in their 
dioceses; and the secretaries of the 
various congregations have an endless 
succession of reports to make. At this 
hour of the day the Pope represents 
a more wide-spread constituency than 
any other ruler in the world. There 
are Catholics everywhere, and the 
agents of the Church are dully sending 



to the head-(iuarters at Home repwrts 
of manners and customs, of .ngriculture, 
industry, connnerce, arts, science, let- 
ters, politics, and religions. 

A bright writer on clerical affairs calls 
the Vatican the most elevated of observ- 
atories, whence the Pope can note with 
precision the affairs of Honolulu as well 
as those of Paris or of St. Petersbm-g. 
Tlic Pope listens with attention and 
even with curiosity to every letter and 
wiitten or oral leport. In him the am- 
bition of the Church does not sleep. He 
is as i)r(jud of a spiritual victory at- 
tained in Dakota as of one which ha.s 
been uon in (Jermany. He fully appre- 
ciates the Catholic genius for evangeli- 
zation, .and believes that the strength of 
his Clnn'ch is in the lufirvellous discipline 
and organization which it is his duty to 
supervise. The popular Protestant idea 
of a Pope is a mild and genial elderly 
giMitleman, rcliued in intellect, and of 
exalted siiirituality, who passes his time 
in grand cei'emonials, amid clouds of 
incense and the genutleclion of elab- 
orately costumed prelates, and whose 
leisin-e is pliiilifiil euongli to enable him 
to eujoj' till' splendors of ancient and 
modern Rome, bv which he is sur- 
rounded. But the real Pope is, as 
we have seen, an active, responsible, 
energetic head, daily awakening to new 
duties, new crises, new situations, which 
demand innnediate thought. He has to 
discuss affairs in Europe, Africa, Ocean- 
ica, Asia, and America ; and daily, 
after his inferiors come in with their 
reports, and long after tliey are gone, 
he leans over his desk, which is 
heaped with docinnents and letliTS and 
writes, reads, annotates, and muses 
until half-past ten, when he is sunnnoned 
to a simple supper. Now and then the 
supper is cut short by an excess of work, 
for the Pope goes to bed with military 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



421 



])recision at eleven. Sometimps his 
chamberlain has foniid him, worn out 
with tiionght and toil, with his head 
hurled in his hands, asleep at his desk. 
It requires a robust physique and great 
strength of character to support the con- 
stant and somewhat monotonous round 
of daily duties to which a Pope gives his 
life wiien he takes the reins of authority 
into ills own liands. 

Since the invasion of Rome, as the 
Catholics call it, the Pope is not sup- 
posed to leave the Vatican. Pins IX. 
adhered sternly to his decision not to 
api)ear in any of the ceremonials once 
so familiar to the populace in the streets 
of Rome ; and the present Pope is his 
faithl'ul follower in this respect. Exer- 
cise, however, lie must have, and so he 
gets it, now by pacing one of the great 
corridors of the palace ; now he is taken 
down to the gardens in a sedan chair, 
through the beautiful loggie of Raphael, 
past the freseoes of the great " Sehool 
of Athens " and " The Dispute ; " or now 
he drives a little in the shady alleys of the 
garden or on the flanks of the neighbor- 
ing hill. WluM) he goes out he is rarely 
accompanied by any persons save those 
on duty that day, and at a little dis- 
tance a small platoon of the guard, 
composed of the Roman nol)ility, which 
does voluntary service as his escort. 
In these out-door promenades the Pope 
is never idle. lie either recites his 
bi-evi:iry, he opens and re.'id.s his de- 
spatches, which he has brought along 
with him ; or, if he has invite<l some 
prelate to accompany him. they talk 
business and religion. But he always. 
says one who is familiar with the inte- 
rior of the Vatican, .seems anxious to 
get back to his work. 

Leo XIII. i.s very independent in his 
choice of functionaries and friends. As 
soon as he was made Poj)e he sent for 



the master of ceremonies to i)roceed 
with the division of the list of employes 
at the Papal Court. The master of cere- 
monies read them off one by one, and 
the Pope was ready with a name to 
place opposite each title. He would 
hear of no objections to his choice, and 
he set aside as useless some of the old- 
fashioned offices, much to the dismay 
and discomfiture of prelates who had 
hoped to have obtained them. He has 
a horror for sinecures, and picks them 
out with infallible vision, expressing a 
keen delight in supi)ressing them. He 
would never make a cardinal, as Pius 
IX. is said to have done in the case of a 
certain French prelate, because " if I 
had not made a cardinal of him ho would 
have died of chagrin." The tradition of 
tiie Vaticau is that when a n<'w I'ope 
conies out from the conclave at which 
he has been elected, he places the cardi- 
nal's cap upon the head of the person 
who served as secretary of the assem- 
l>ly ; but Leo XIII. did nothing of the 
kind, much to the surprise of the S;icred 
College. It was a year l)efore the new 
Pope announced his first pn^motion in 
the list of cardinals. lie cannot lie re- 
Ijroached with having insisted upon the 
too Italian character of the Sacred Col- 
lege, for he has made a|)|)ointnK'nts in 
many hinds. 

The Roman families which claim no- 
bility are devoted to the \^itican ; and it 
is but natural that they should be so, as 
most of them owe their origin to papal 
protection. Thus we are told that the 
AHianis got their fortune through Clem- 
ent XL : the Aldobi-andinis, through 
Clement VIII. ; the Barberinis, through 
Urlian VIII. ; the Borgheses, through 
Paul \ . ; the Chigis, through Alexander 
VII. ; the Colonnas, through Martin V. ; 
the Odescalchis, through Innocent XL ; 
the Rospigliosis, through Clement IX. ; 



422 



Ei'RorE IX f^Toint Axn calm. 



ami so CHI '('/ iiifiiiitiiiii. Ill lidinaii 
soc'ietA' till' cardinals take tlic lirst place ; 
princes ami dukes come next, and gen- 
erally, says a good authority, in the 
order of their creation, with the excep- 
tion always of the chiefs of the Colouna 
andOrsiiii families, who are hereditary 
piinces, attendant upon the throne, and 
who take prece(lence of all their com- 
peers. 

In two \ears the Pope had chani;ed 




QUEEN OK ri'ALY. 

In's secretai-y of stale twice. lie iu- 
teiidcil. and slill intends, t.i allow no 
one to \:\\<v in his life tlic important 
place which Cardinal Aiitonelli had 
taken in that of Pius IX.. altliouj;li the 
latter was o-encrally accredited with 
decidinu piettv vigorously for himself 
oil great matlcis. I'ius IX. was not 
very tolciaiit on any remonslrancc ad- 
dressed him hv llu' College of Cardinals; 
liiit the new I'ope is open to convict ion, 
and listens to all with the greatest 



attention. He is inllexililc in his dc- 
nian<ls for disci|iliiie and hard work 
among his followers. It is said that one 
day a Frenchman, who had just lieen 
accorded au interview, said to the priest 
who had accoini)auied him, " How very 
utfalile the J'oiie is!" '• Yes," said the 
priest, with a bitter smile, •• atfahle to 
strangers." This ]iriest had lieeii ke|it 
up all night to study a ii'port uitli which 
he was in arrears. 

The notion that the Pope is over- 
whelmed witli coiitiilmtions of money 
and ti'casnre from all parts of the world, 
and that his coftVrs are oxeitlowing with 
Peter's Pence, is said to lie a mistaken 
one. He talks freiiuently of the pciiurv 
of his resources, and Konians who are 
in a position to judge say that he does 
iKjt exaggerate his cir(aiiiistaiices. He 
finds sums for liberal charities, and 
perhaps takes a little pleasiiic in iiiviug 
more generously fromhisown lean piuse 
than the King, who. as the representative 
of the nation, feels compelled to give. A 
committee of cardinals was cliai'ged by 
the Pope, after the lattei-'s accession to 
pcjwcr. carefully to administer the Peter's 
I'eiice, which was the most important 
source of revenue of the Hol\' Sec; but 
nowadays there are peipeliial com- 
plaints that it is not sutlicieut for the 
needs of the Vatican. Iliindrcds. and 
even thousands, of useless presents are 
made whei'c nioiU'V would be more 
acceptable. The gentlemen of the 
Konian uoliilitv who are on ser\ ice at 
the N'atican join with the Pope in some 
noble charities. One Roman prince 
gave, in the severe winter of 1s7!I-m), 
si'veuty-five thousaml meals to the poor 
of the capital. The Popt' himself, on 
New Year's day of that winter, gave 
l.'i.Olll) francs from his private purse to 
charity. 

Altlionoh he has refstablishcd verv 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CAL\t. 



\i:\ 



carefully all the etiquette (if the Papal 
Court, etiquette which had fallen some- 
what into decay since 1M70, he does not 
allow the cardinals to go out in gahi 
carriages. The processions are all kept 
carefully within the churches, and the 
files of chanting- brethren, carrying huge 
candles, which follow funeral processions, 
are almost the only relic of the copious 
and magnificent Catholic ceremonial, 
some phase of which was once visible 
hourly in Home. 

The Pope finds time in the midst of 
his aiiostolate, in the intervals of the 
careful study of St. Thomas Aquinas, 
for whom he ha.s a veritable passion, and 
the s|)read of whose doctrines he recom- 
mends to all the bishops, to occuiiy 
himself with modern progress. lie 
writes eo|)iously and freely for two or 
three Roman newspapers, which are I he 
ofHcial representatives of the Papal 
Court ; and there was at one time since 
his accession a grand project for found- 
ing a huge newspaper, the size of the 
" London Times," to be the ofticial jour- 
nal of the Vatican, and to cmlKjdy in its 
many columns everj' day the epitome of 
the Catholic world. It was pr(j[)osed 
that this novel journal should be printed 
in a dozen languages ; but the scheme 
was given up altogether as extensive and 
expensive. 

Not long ago the Pope founded an 
academy for the study of Roman law 
and philosophy, ecclesiastical law, and 
comparative civil legislation. The grand 
polyglot academy session, which was 
held at the Vatican in April, 1880, will 
not soon be forgotten. It brought to- 
gether forty-nine ditlerent languages, 
all of which were well spoken liy the 
representatives of the Catholic faith in 
every quarter of the world. The di|ilo- 
luats who are sent to the Pa|)al Court by 
countries which still recognize the tem- 



poral sovereignty of the Po[)e are said 
to be somewhat annoyed at the facility 
with which the august Pontiff sends his 
views to the public journals. He often 
adopts sudden [luhlicity as a way of 
getting out of a political situation which 
is disagreeable to him. 

The progratiime of the Vatican npiteJirs 
to be susceptible of but little change in 
one respect: there will lie no recon- 
ciliation with the (^uirinal : and this is 




KINO ()!'• ri'ALV. 

the reason given by the Catholic aulhori- 
ties : In the first place, alter his ck'ction, 
Leo XIII. took a solemn oath upon the 
Gospels, in the presence of the Sacred 
College, according to the constitution 
and the canons, that he would not alidi- 
cate the rights of the Holy See and the 
domain of St. Peter; and, furthermore, 
the present King of Italy does not 
possess the authority to restore the 
Pajial States. With this point of view 
established in the Catholic mind, it is 



424 EUROPE r.v fsroRu axd cat.m. 

eviileiit tlmt liltlo prosiress can lir iiiiulc. lies to vote ami work with the Hepulilifaiis 
Leo XIII. "s plan of action is suiiiUR'd up for tlio upsetting- ol' this monarchy. They 
in tile words : '• Neither concession nor hnil every revolution and disorder as a 
provocation." The Holy See considers step forward towards the einanri|iation 
the temporal [wvver as an inherent part of Kome ; yet they might have seen, by 
of the Constitution of the Church from events in France in 1871, that a social- 
the earliest dawn of Christianity. Its istic and radical revolution may 1h' [lut 
own historians say that the Popes became down without destroying a reiiul)lic. 
sovereigns without knowing how they They say that Italian unity has jjiotited 
became so ; that an invisible law raised none Init the middle or /<rvr/v/*'o/.v class ; 
lip the Roman See ; and that the chief that the country is going straight from 
of the Roman Universal Church is evolution to revolution : that the re- 
born a sovereign. They scoff at the sources of the kingdom are all absorbed 
" law of guarantees," which "established by taxation; that the constant agitation 
the otlicial relations Itetweeu the nrw in favor of the " unredeemed provinces," 
kingclom and the Holy .See." They say as the radical patriots call Saxciy. Nice, 
that it is a law imposed by the con- Corsica, Malta, Tunis, '{"yrol. and the 
(pu'ror upon the conquered, and that, Tessino, will lie a pf)werl'nl aid in tuing- 
although it accords the Pope sovereign ing about a revolution ; that the Italians, 
honors, and assigns him a civil list of instead of saying in the noble words of 
several millions of francs ( which neither Jlazzini : "(Jod anil People" (Dio c 
Ihe present Pope uoi' Pius IX. would yioyiry/o), now (int an accent over the c and 
accept ), it is perilous aiMl irreligious in say "Ood /.s- tlie |ieoplc" (/>/r< c ^joyio/o) 
its action. The retreat of Pius IX. to They speak of the licpnlilican nianifesta- 
the \'atican was thei'efore necessitated tions and festivities in I'ecent yeais at 
by the loss of his independence, and his Clenoa, liologna. Rimini, An<'ona. and 
successors must follow his exile until — Turin, and prophesy that it will not be 
ITntil what? The Catholic view of the long before King Ilumbeit \vill have to 
situation in Italy is, that, in process of convoke a constituent assembly, in which 
time, a radical an<l republican revolution the destiny of the Italian nation will lie 
will sweep away the House of Savoy, deciiled. 

and that then the [leople will proceed This view of the Intelligent and anibi- 

to excesses which will necessitate tions Catholics of Italy is worthy of 

intervention, a return to royalty, and careful note. Perhaps a portion of their 

the reestalilislnnent of all the Papal propliecy will be fultilled ; Imt it is not 

privileges. This conviction is so lixed probable that in our day the temporal 

in the minds of many Catholics of power will be restored to the chief of 

Italy Ihat llieynot only make no secret the Church at the Vatican, or wherever 

of it, but h.-ive boldlv niged the Catho- else he may choose his residence. 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



425 



CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE. 



The German Pai-ade ou Loagcliamps. — The Triumphal Entry Into Paris. — Shadows of Civil War. — 
Outbreak of " La Commune." — The (iroatest Insurrection of Modeiu Times — Its Causes and Its 
Hopes. — The Association of the Generals. — The First Fights. —The Manifestation of the " Friends 
of Order." 



TTTHILP: the French As.seinbly was 
V V agoniziug at Kordeaux over the 
odious articles of tlie treaty "f l)e!tce, 
King William of Prussia antl his suite 
were passing in review the Sixth and the 
Eleventh Prussian corps, and the remains 
of the Second Bavarian corijs, on the 
green sward at Longchamps. King Wil- 
liam had been o\er this ground twice 
before in his life, as a conqueror in 1814- 
l.j, and as a visitor in 18G7, wiieii sixty 
thousand of the Hower of the Frcn "h 
troops marched past him. 

A little less tiiaii thirty thousand (iei- 
inans partiei|iated in the review. The 
old monarch was stationed near the 
ruineil race-stand and seats on Long- 
champs, which had been entered by the 
Trocadero and Passy route, and by the 
long and brilliant Avenue de 1' Imjx'ra- 
trice. The King and the Crown Prince, 
however, returned to Versailles, making 
no attempt to enter Paris at tiie head of 
their troops in the style supposed to be 
traditionally fit for coiupicrors. The 
strict oljservance of Article III. of the 
conditions of jjcace was contiuued, so as 
to avoid all danger of collision between 
the Prussians and the Parisians. 'Ihe 
mass of the German army cared very 
little about tlie '• triiun|)hant entry." 
Paris was in universal mourning on this 
1st of IMareli ; a black day for Frenchmen 
to count from and to swear against. 
There were but few cannon in the streets. 
Proclani,itions had been posted in cer- 



tain quarters containing threats against 
the lives of those vvho sold anything to 
Germtms, or were seen speaking to them. 
Black flags antl long streamers of moinn- 
ing were everywhere displayed. The 
statues of Strasbourg, Metz, Lille, ;ind 
the sister cities in the gr:,nd Place de la 
Concorde, were veiled and maslced with 
crape, and here great barriers were 
erected at the streets into which the Con- 
vention did not allow the Germans to 
penetrate. The frerman troojis did not 
pass under the Triinnpiial Arch, which 
had Iieen .sin-rounded with a barrier of 
iron chains, .as if to intimate that no 
German could soil the sacred earth by 
his |)resence. The intirch calhd •■The 
Entry of Paris," which was phiyetl by 
the regimental bands, was first heard in 
the Champs Elys(5es in I81f, when tlie 
victorious Allies entered. 

Dismarck came in, almost uni>erceived, 
in a little caliche, tmd, muliied in a huge 
gray cloak, went to the barriers of the 
Pltice de la Concorde. 

One of the most pathetic e[)is<>des of 
the occupation of Paris was the invasion 
of the Hotel des Invalides. Doubtless 
there was a little malice on the ptirt of 
the Germans in stipulating for this priv- 
ilege. The haughty invader was glad to 
penetrate the old sanctuary of military 
glory around Napoleon's torn)), whi're 
some of his aged heroes, toothless, antl 
but poorly provided with legs and arms, 
were still linoeriug above yround. Swag- 



420 F.iKdi't-: IX sroini Axn cai.m. 

ii'iTing olHfois ill lil:U'k inid icl. with evacuatcil liy the (Ici'inans, sIkhiIiI ;it- 

tJR'ir white nlovcs and tiicii' gain swonls, tcin|)t to take these eaiiiicni, wliy might 

interrogated the old invaliils eoiieerning it not he suspeeted of designs upon the 

the Hags in llic i'lKi|iel, and |iiiih(.Ml the Keimhlie!' The logic was not very gooil, 

cai'vings aromid the great Kniperor's hnt the Coninmnists from the first pro- 

tonil) with their wea|ions. This was an elainied their snsiiicions that ISI. Thiers 

overwhelming measure of vengeance, and and his government meant to bring back 

so the old French heroes thonght. an empire or a monarchy. Early in 

No donbt thi'rc^ weie some excesses ^larch they issued a proclamation say- 

coniniittiMl (hiring tlie short oecuiiatiiui. nig: '■ The central c-ommittee of the Na- 

I'anl de St. N'ictor has said of the I'riis- tioiial (iiiard, nominated in an assembly 

sian. taking his inspiralion from the of delegates rejiresenting more than two 

portrait of Attila in the old (•hroii;<-h> : hundred battalions, announces as its mis- 

'• \\v is frank or eraftv, just or unjust, sion the constitution of a IJepubliean fed- 

teiu|ierate or ibssolute, humane or cruel. erati(ui of the National ( inard, organized 

according to his interests ;" and. it iiULiht so as to protect the government better 

be addeil. according to his prcjinliecs. than [i<riuaiieiil armies have done up to 

The (ierinan soldiers certainly did nincli the i>resciit lime, and to tlefend the men- 

mischief an<l damage in certain houses aced Ivepnblic; by all possible means." 
where tliev were ipiartered in Paris; but The collision came. The government 

it turned out afterwards that these houses niaile its atlack on the bluff of IMoiit- 

were ownecl liy political or literary per- martre, to take the cannon of which the 

sonages who had been especially dis- Nati<,iiial (iiiard was anxious to maintain 

agreeable to ( icrmany. possession. The posilious were sur- 

Tlie outbreak of the Communal Iiisur- rounde<l liy a battalion (jf cJiussenr-t-i)- 

rection caine swiftly after the depirtiire pied and another from the One Hundred 

of the (iermans. ( )ii the gn^af phdii at and Tu eiity-second regimen; of the line, 

the top of .Montmnrtre. ne.ar the <ild sig- taken by (Jencral Faidherbe's army. The 

nal tower of the aerial leleL;r:ipli. were streets near by were occnjiied by line 

parkeil a large number of cannon, which regiments, and there wi're mUrailleasL' 

the .XaiioiKil (inard had hanli'd up tliilher batterii's in all the labyiinth of sideways 

lor safe-keeping. All .an 1 them tliev and b\ -ways of dubious reputation which 

had liiiilt hariieades to protei.'t tliein, and co\cred ;\bint marlre's side. It is needless 

many of the cannon weic pointed towards lo recite the liistor\' of the coiitlict. which 

the centre of Paris. The National ( i iiard resulted in a defeat of the liners. 'I'he 

threatened vengeance if these weapons nioyement for carrying away the cannons 

were disturbed liy Clianzv, or any other was stopp.vl with a vigorous assault. ,\n 

of the (xenerals whose troops were now iunnense disoreani/.ed b(id\' ol' the Xa- 

arriving in Paris, fresh fi-om the lields tional (iiiard rushed down upon the liners, 

where they had met. and fraternized with them. Many of the 

Here was the easy [u-ctext for an open ri'eiilar troops were ileiiioralized because 

rebellion of the National (inard. If their goyernment was lost, and the revo- 

the (Jeneral riovernmeut, which had re- iiition was practically declared, 
turned from Hordeaux to \'ersailh'S, and (iemral X'iiioy was hissed at. and was 

appi-ared likely (u establish the capital obliged to retire hastily. The National 

of the country in the ohl city so recently Guard organized a meeting ; and while 



EUItdl'i: IX STORM AXD CALM. 



427 



they wore (lfliber:\tino-. all ininu'iis.' orowd 
<if men, women, and ohildreu l)l()c!%('d 
the jiassage of the cannon which the 
governmeut artillciyiucn were vauih" en- 
deavoring to move to a place of safety. 
While this was going on, the l)attalions 
of Belleville came puffiug and steaming 
into the fight, hot with a. rapid march. 
The Montmartre rebels retired, the newly 



The agitation spread quickly to I'>elleville 
and the Faubourg St. Antoine, and the 
Place de la Bastille was covereil with the 
rebel troops. 

The funeral procession of Victor Hugo's 
sou Charles was stotiped in th(' Rue St. 
Antoine by a revolutionary committee 
engaged on a barricade, wlio announced 
that it could go no farther. Towards 



j^^«4.r/*^t 





THE TOr OF MOXTMAIil'UK WriKRH THE COMMUNIST CANNON WERE 

INSTALLED. 



arrived toolc their [ilaces, and a struggle 
liegan ; oflicers were beaten ; any man 
who raised his sword as if to command 
was shot at. Many of the government 
soldiei's turned uii the butts of their 
muskets in token of adhesion to tlie 
Revohition. The shooting grew more 
frequent and violent ; nnuiy persons were 
wounded in the cafi's and houses. Several 
soldiers were slain ; finally the line troops 
nuitinied, and a whole s([uadron of iji'n- 
daniws was surrunn(h'<l and im|]ris(ined. 



3 o'clock placards were posted announc- 
ing tliat the riot was in possession of the 
jMontmartre, Belleville, and Faubourg 
St. Antoine quarters. In the lieart of 
the city one heard that a " court-m:irtial " 
was judging General Le Conite ; I lie old 

General Clement Thomas, e niander 

of the National Guard of the city, was 
a prisoner. An hour later came the story 
that they had been foullv assassinated 
without a chance of justifying themselves, 
liy unknown persons, who compelled the 



4-28 



El'UOl'E IX f^TORM AXJ) CAI.M 



soldiers of tlii' lini' to shout tlioni. Both 
(iL'iioral 'I'liomas and GeiuTal Le Coiiite 
were taken to a small house in the Rue 
des IJozifis at fouro'eloek that afternoon, 
and, witiiout the senihlnnce of a trial, 
■v\'eri> drasioed into a ijardeTi. tied together, 
and fired U|iiin. ( ieneral Le C'onite was 
killed at onee by a liall whi<'li strnck him 
behind tli(> ear ; General Tliomas was not 
wounded liy the tirst dischariie, and when 
the sieoiid tilled him with his deatii wound, 
he eried out •• Cowai'ds ! " and waited 
tran(]uilly for tlie linisiiiuij; stroke. 

At live o'cloelv on the aftei'uoon of this 
fated IStli of INIareii the insurgents were 
in full possession of tliu Hotel cle \'ille. 
The ministries of war and justiee in the 
PUiee Vendome and the regular govern- 
ment had but one resouree, that of retir- 
ing si)eedlly to Versailles, or of falling 
iuti the hands of captors who might have 
[iidvi'd severe judges. 'I'lie Hotel de 
A'ille was occupied liy three regiments of 
the line : bul the ( 'onuniuiists succeeded 
in indneing them to retire without fight- 
ing. Hundreds of thousands of jjeoplo 
came into the streets, and wandered aliout 
watching the movements of the C'om- 
innnists ; but none of them was willing 
to believe that the movement wis serious. 
At nine o'clock, the National (iuard of 
Belh'ville were in possession of the whole 
ecutial part of the city. Iiad sent to 
ihuuaud the Ollicial .louinal. .and were 
printing manifestoes (if what they had 
done and pi'oposiMl to do. They an- 
nount-ed thi.' raising of the ^tate of siege, 
the eomdcation of the peo|i|e of Paris 
for the t'ommunal elections, and guaian- 
teed the security of all eili/.ens. The\ 
planted the red Hag on the ISastille 
column, took possession of the [ii'incipal 
barracks; and excited foreigners were 
telegraphing in all directions that tlu' 
Eed Republic would be firmly estalilished 
in Paris on the following nuirning. 



The second important event in this 
greatest insurrection of modern times 
occurred on the 2.")d of March, when the 
•• Friends of Order." as they called them- 
selves, went in long procession down the 
Rue de la Paix to the Place \'endome, 
to reason with the rebels, who had there 
established their head-quarters. Many 
people considered this foolhardy attempt 
as a Honapartist trick, and refused for 
this purpose to associate themselves with 
it. The day was fine, the sunshine I'cst- 
ing upon the white fronts of the noble 
buildings in the Rue de la Paix, ai;d on 
the lu'ouze Pegasus uiispringing from the 
roof of the new o[)era. Thousands of 
ladies and gentlemen leid gathered in 
this square in front of the (irand Oiiera, 
and were looking curiously towards the 
Place Vcndoine, where there were four 
rows of shabby-looking sentinels, and 
where grinning cannon, pointed upon 
the gaping crowd of cockneys, eoulil be 
seen. 

The Parisian loves danger and lacks 
caution : and therefore the thousands 
who came out to gaze n|ion the foitilieil 
cam|i of the insurrectionists suigcd for- 
ward through the boulevards until they 
were well into the mouth of the street. 
IVIeantinie, the great mass n;eeting of 
the •• Friends fif Order," held nearby, had 
dispersed, and the masses, shouting 
•• Long li\e ordei' !"' moved down, swee[i- 
ing all before them. In a few moments 
the dense mass of men. women<and chil- 
dren, nearly all from the upper ranks of 
society, were surrounding the iusur<ients. 
who at once beat their drums. The 
greatest activity jirevailed in the Place 
Vendome. Messengers were seen gallop- 
ing off to sunnnon out new lialtalions, 
and new lines of guards sprang into sight 
from behind the bariicades at the rear 
of the place. 1 saw the tirst line of in- 
sui'gents lift their guns warningly, and 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



429 






so 
o 

O 

n 
> 



a 
c 

o 




430 



EUliOl'i: IN STORM AXD CALM. 



tliun rotiie :is it' frii;liteiUMl. While 
standing at tlir eoiner oi tlii' Kne ilcs 
Pi'tits t'lianips, wliicii gave a direct view 
npcin tlie scene, I was amazed to see a 
whole line of sentinels suddenly envel- 
oped in the crowd. The gentlemen waved 
their hats in the air ; ladies waving their 
parasols and handkerchiefs cried out, 
" Hurrah for order ! Lay down yoin' arms, 
and let us be friends!" At this moment 
there was a discharge of nuisketrv ; hut 
I saw that there was no confusion, and 
fancied that some of tlie frightened in- 
surgents had tired in the air. Suddenly 
a si'cond sharp rattling volley lan out, 
one or two cries of " Cowards and as^sas- 
sins 1 " were heard, ami a general [lanic 
ensued. A few bullets rattled on tiie 
wall at the corner where I stood. One 
wounded man was brought from the 
crowd into a side street, two rioters fol- 
lowing, audclaiminghim as theirprisoner, 
and that he had tired upon them. He 
was in the iniilorui of a Captain of .Mo- 
biles, and was evidently dying. His 
face was deaililv pale, and the foam was 
at his li|is. Little (puirrels inuuediately 
sprang np all aiDinid. Well-dressed 
gentlemen took away a nuisket from one 
of the iiisuigents. and menaced him widi 
the contents of it if he did not return 
into his own lines. 'The cries became 
louder. Pe<.>ple who were haslil\ [luttiug 
uj) the shutters in all the shops and 
hotels along our street, even to the cor- 
ner wdiere the Eelle\iilians stood, joined 
in the outcry. Five minutes before, our 
street had beiai tilled with tlying people ; 
ti\'e minutes after, it was silent as the 
gr.ive. The i'ed-white-;uuMilue tlag, 
the Hag of France, was bronglit towards 
the line, bayonets and sabres were agi- 
tated violently in the air. the flag was 
torn down, and another disi-hai'ge. this 
time louder anil more effi'i'tnal. occurred. 
Then the crowd tied, and the screams of 



women and the yells of iVightened men 
resoinided ev<'rvwhere. The blow had 
fallen, the lievolution was in earnest, 
and the people of the aristocratic classes 
were now thoroughly convinced of it. 

About twenty men remained lying 
upon the ground, and were at once 
sun-ounded by the insurgents, who ex- 
amined them. Amlnilance men came 
out from their ranks, an<l the dead were 
carried away on stretchers. Many 
people had received wounds in the 
arms and legs, but were able to get 
home. In ten minutes after the dead 
were removed the cannon were brought 
up to tlie entrance of the Place Ven- 
dome, and sentinels were pushed for- 
ward into the Rue de la Paix. The iu- 
dign.ation among the Friends of Older 
was so great that many returned along 
the liloodv |iavenients and shook their 
lists in the faces of the si>ldiers. Nnra- 
bei's of these peo[)le were arrested, and 
a commission of examination was at 
once instituted in one of tln' buildings 
in the Place Veudome. 

One man lay dead for two hoins in 
front of a chemist's on the Rue de la 
Paix. He had evidently been instantly 
killed, and was forgotten in the inPlee 
of picking lip, as the rebels were con- 
stantly expecting an attack from tlie 
N'ati(jnal (iiiard of the (piai'ter. An 
American from St. Louis was also 
killed liy shots from the rioters. The 
t'clebratecl banker Hottingner, while 
earing for a wcfiinded man, was hit 
in the chest. Cieiieral Sheridan was 
an eve-witness of the affair, and. ac- 
eoi'ding to his tesiimouy ami that of 
many others, it would seem that the 
insurgents certainly received consider- 
able pro\ocatioii to fire. ]Maiiy of ilie 
men of order had revoheis in their 
pockets, and that they were used iu 
the mi'-lve is certain, because some of 



EUROPE IN STORM A.VD CALM. 



4,31 



the Bellevillians were kilUMl, ami iiuiiiy 
were \vonuded. 

The Rue Neuve des Petits Chaniiis 
was occupied by a large force, and 
sentinels were placed before each door 
to guard against any surprise on the 
part of the infuriated battalion, which, 
having had one taste of blood, seemed 
discontented without more. The iu- 
surgeuts gave me a soldier to accom- 
pan}' me to the head of the Rue ile la 
Paix, and on our way we walked 
around a pool of fresh bloi^d. The 
sentinels farther on had already as- 
sumed the revolutionary style. '-Pas- 
sez, citoyen," said cacli one ; and I 
gained the invaded quarter in safety. 
All the insurgents with whom I talked 
seemed sorry that a collision had oc- 
curred, and some announced their opin- 
ion ihat it had injured the cause. 

On the following Friday morning I 
went with the American Consul and 
othei' Americans to the Place VendOme 
to claim the body of our countryman 
who had been killeil. We were readily 
admitted, and found the greatest calm 
pievailing in the Place ; and an immense 
number of insurgents was gathered 
there. We were ushered into the 
Credit Mobilier, transformed into a hos- 
l)ital, and there saw five dead bodies, 
two of which were pointed out by the 
insurrectionists as belonging to their 
movement. One was a fine, stalwart 
man. with flowing beard, but coaisely 
dressed in blue garments, with a blue 
sash around his waist. He was shot 
twice in the back of the head with 
revolver bullets, and we were told that 
it was the first victim in the collision. 
One man, exceedingly handsome, richly 
dressed, and young, had been shot 
also in the head : and on his counte- 
nance there was a ghastly expression 
of terror. The Connnandaiit of the 



Place sanctioned the removal of the 
body for which we came ; and as the 
little iirocession, with a flag at its head, 
went out, all the insurgents doffed their 
hats. 

There were fresh alarms daily, but no 
more fighting. For many days after the 
retirement of Admiral Saisset to Ver- 
sailles the people of the central quarter 
of Paris thought they were at the mercy of 
the Red Republicans, and that there was 
nothing to do but to compromise the 
situation. They dreaded an attack by 
the government from Versailles, wliere 
great masses of troops were assembling 
as fast as they could be rcturne<l from 
Germany ; and a friend remarked Xo me, 
a few days after the collision in the Rue 
de la Paix, that the advanri' cdlunins of 
(ieneral Ducrot's forces along the Sevres 
road would cause more fear and trem- 
bling in the capital than the advent of the 
Prussians did. We now ami then heard 
great booming of cannon in the I'lussiau 
lines, and the Con)munists claime<l that 
theseguus were fired in mockery of tliedis- 
sensions of the French, — an inter|ireta- 
tion which was of course absurd. As for 
the Prussians, they were well satisfied with 
the season of rest which had arrived ; and 
at St. Denis, at Enghien, at Montnio- 
lency, and at all the suburbs in the 
northern sections, they were most com- 
fortably installed. At night the bivouac 
fires of the outposts were plainly visil)le 
from the walls of Paris. Every railway 
on the main lines had a Prussian in- 
spector, who never thought of allowing 
a train to stai-t until its passengers had 
l)een carefully examined. 'J'he difference 
in the running-time between Paris and 
London was increased by one hour de- 
voted to the Prussians, at St. Denis. The 
Germans kept this Hue o|)eu during the 
whole insurrection, and there was never 
a time, not even excei)ting the seven 



4.S2 EUROPE IN STOh'.tr AXn CALM. 

ilays' fight, wlifii one coulil not fi'ocl_y selves, were ((uite free :uul easy in their 
luive h'ft tlic eniiital liad lie wished ti> eoininmiicatioTis with strangers, and 
do so. Tile Parisians, and especially iiiarjy of tlie siinjilc workmen, carrying 
tiiose possessing large fortunes. I)egan to guns, standing sentries in tlie I\ue ile la 
disappear. In less than a week after tire Paix and on the central lioulevards, dis- 
shooting in the Rne de la Paix lifteen closed what they thought were the plans 
thousand persons left. Returning from of the Comnmne to English and Anieri- 
the sea-coast through C'reil, one day tow- can people, and possibly even to Prus- 
ards tlie close of Marcli, I found at that sians, without the sligiitest reserve. The 
station al>out fifty tlionsand ladies and ofHcers, however, in time forbade con- 
gentlemen, all in a state of excitement versation : l)nt the men only olu'ved uiien 
which seemed to border on lunacy. The the ofllcers were in sight. 'Y\w vintiuJIi^ra^ 
only i)assenger on the train besides uiyself were not the least amusing of the odd 
was a CJneen's messenger, wiio got out features of tlie C'onnnunal military forces, 
at C'reil and took the branch line to Ver- They were usuallv women of middle age, 
sailles. The refugees from Paris set np a scarcely to l)e classed as liandsome, clad 
shout when tliey saw my head at the win- in brown tial)its, an<l wearing l)onnets 
dow of the railway carriage, anil several wliich were ;i l<iud of compromise between 
gentlemen warned me not to return to the a PInygian cap aud a Tam O'.Shanter. 
city, as there was liglitiug in every street, Tliey excited much sport during the first 
anil the Terror was shoi-fiy to l)e estali- days of the C'omnume, liel'ore the young 
lisiied. These people were .so thoroughly fashionables of the Jockey Club and the 
conxinced of the truth of wliat they said boulevards iiail become frightened, and 
th:it there was no reasoniiiii with tliem. 1 when they mercilessly ridiculed every 
leached the Noithern railway station with- public demonstration of the Comnmne. 
out adventure, ;iiiil walked down to my The Communal troojis generally car- 
apai-lmeiits in thelJue des Petits Champs ried little red flags stuck in flic muzzles 
without seeing any evidence whatever of their guns, when tliey were on the 
of the insurrection, exce|it the cannon march; and many battalions liad ban- 
griiiuiiig from the barricades ill the Place uers with iiiscriptious signifying that 
N'endome. Paris was for six weeks there- they were the real men of order, etc. 
after, w'itli the exception of an occasinnal These troops suffered from lack of food, 
cannonade and a pretty constant clatter and many of them did not sleej) iii-doors 
of musketi'y at a distance, more tramiuil for a week together; but they were all 
that it usiialh is in s|iring and early convinced tliat Paris would win in the 
summer. great struggle, and that the cities of the 
Presently the situation was clearly de- south would rally to her support. .So, in 
tilled. \'ersailles had determined to the bright sunshiny days, they managed 
besiege and take the rebels of the ca[)i- to subsist on bread and an occasional 
tal at no matter wliat cost of blood aud vegetable, and to get along without [lay. 
treasure. M. Thiers was in an angry The finances of the Commune were not 
mood, whieii was not at all softened by at all flourishing, although they were 
the decrees of the Commune against him administered, according to the testimony 
and the unroofing of his house in the of so good an authority as the London 
Place St. Georges. The new masters of Times, with the most rigid and absolute 
Paris, the citizens, as they called them- honesty, even to the disbursing of a 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



433 



ceutiinc. Jourde, the delegate for the ings at the Hotel de Ville were eharac- 
financial department, as the Commimal terized b}' considerable decision and 



witli the 



capacity for despatch of business. Assi, 
a workman of more than average ability, 
usually presided. He and one of the 

Generals wore the men who saved the 



phrase had it, was a man of genius for 
finance, and did his wori< with a swift- 
ness, and manifested an incorrupti- 
bility, in striiving contrast 
conduct of the otticials of thr 
Empire wlio had preceded 
him. But had the success of 
the Commune been prolonged 
it is probable that the Social- 
ists, who had crept into the 
party, would have found 
Jourde too good a man for 
their purpose. 

At the outset of the insur- 
rection the National Guard 
from the workiugmen's quar- 
ters were all very sensitive of 
criticism upon their conduct, 
and not one of them showed 
any disposition to profit by 
the power which had lieen 
placed in his hands. The otti- 
cers would not allow the men 
to enter even the court-yards 
of the houses ; and it was an- 
nounced by printe<l proclama- 
tions, and in the orders of the 
day given to the troops, that 
any one detected in the theft 
of the smallest article from 
house or street would be shot. 
One evening when I went to 
the Kiosk for my newspapers, 
the marchande was absent, 
and although the latest edi- 
tions of the papers were lying 

ready to the hand of the passers-by. I saiil Comnuuio fiom tlie dubious policy of at- 
to a soldier who was slouching lieside tiie tacking Versailles, — acoursowhicii uiiglit 
Kiosk, " You appear to be guarding tiie liave resulted in bringing on civil war 
newspapers." — "Ah," said the soldier, throughout France. 




CUilML'NIST TROOPS GOlXCf TO THE FRONT. 



" there is no occasion for alarm: tliore 
are no thieves here ; no one would touch 
the papers were they made of gold." 
The insurrectionarv committee meet- 



On the night l)efore Admiral Saisset 
left for Versailles. Paris was never more 
gay and lieautifiil. Tiiousands upon 
thousands of people thronged the stivets. 



434 



EUROPE IN STOKM AXD CALM. 



:iinl the givat avenues, flooded liy the 
jmre inoonhirht, eehoed to the huighter 
and the shouts of the troops, who seemed 
more as if they were on a pleasure ex- 
cursion than engaged in a military oeeu- 
pation. But in some of the streets held 
by the insurgents, one heard the eonstant 
cry, •' S'lr la chaitssee, citoi/eii" (To the 
middle of the street, citizen) ; and he 
who did not get off from the sidewalli 
was sometimes aided into the street by the 
butt of a gun. TheCommune feared that 
Admiral Saisset's forces might attempt to 
occupy the principal points in the central 
<liiarter ; so they iiad strong guanls at 
all the im|)()rtant liuildings. But when 
morning came, and they found that the 
government forces had retreated, tlie 
vigilance was relaxed. La Commune at 
once began to bluster and to boast. 

On the L'tJth of jNIarch elections were 
held, the Central Committee which had 
been the soul of the insin-rection desiring 
to have its powers confirmed. These 
elections were held on Sunday, and one 
hundred and forty thousand votes were 
cast for the Communal body, and about 
sixty thousand votes for the ojiposing 
faction. Among the elected were 
Floiirens, Blanqui, F(51ix Pyat, and such 
extremists. It was rather amusino- to 
observe, on this Sunday morning, the 
ostentation with which the Communists 
removed the cannon from the Place Ven- 
d6me in accordance with their proclama- 
tion, stating that no citizen should 
complain that he had voted at the can- 
non's mouth. The Central Committee 
got its [lowers fully conlirmed. and some 
of its more active members formed 
themselves into a suli-cominittee, in 
which the whole executive power of the 
Commune was sulisequentlv concen- 
trated. 

Meantime, at Versailles, M. Thiers 
was preaching from the tribime that 



]\I<iuarehy was forever lost In France, 
and was telling even the Monarchists 
that they might conspire in vain. It 
was not until peace with Germany had 
been voletl upon that M. Thiers made 
any definite declarations as to his con- 
version to Kepul)licauism. For the 
Communists, he was, to the latest 
moment of the great struggle, a Mon- 
archist. 'I'hey refused to believe in his 
professions of faith in the Republic, and 
it served their pLir|iose to picture him a.s 
conspiring to bring back the old monarch- 
ical machinery. His vigorous action 
soon brought together, in the villages so 
recently evacuated by the Prussian con- 
queror, some eighty or ninety thousand 
men. The bridge of boats at Sevres 
was cut by General Ducrot's order ; ar- 
tillery was planted on the hills far and 
near. With revolution in Paris, in Mar- 
seilles, and in Toulouse, with hundreds 
of thousands of energetic men in Paris 
led by desperate, unwavering leaders, 
M. Thiers had a gigantic task before 
him. Ills coia-age does not appear to 
have weakened for an instant, and his 
coolness was the admiration of Europe. 

The fusillade of the Place VendAme 
was a kind of coup d'E/'it. It was fol- 
lowed u[) on the S.Sth of March by the 
formal declaration of the Commune in 
front of the Hotel de Ville. The cere- 
mony was not specially interesting. The 
members of the Communal Council got 
together on a iilatform in front of the 
great Henri IV'. entrance to the magnifi- 
cent building, which was doomed to per- 
ish in the llames a few weeks later; and 
there was a disi)lay of busts of the 
Re[)ulilic erowne<l with Liberty-caps, and 
ornamented with led ribbons and flags. 
Salutes were firetl from batteries of ar- 
tillery along the Seine : manv speeches 
were made ; and there was infinite 
drinkiuy and shoutiu"'. The ilates and 



EVROFE IN STORM AND CALM. 



435 



phraseology of tlie old Revolution began 
to be employed. The Official Journal of 
the 28th of March published the follow- 
ing notice : "The citizens, members of the 
Comnuine of Paris, are called together 
to-day, Wednesday, the 8th gern)inul, 
at one o'clock exactly, 
at the HAtel de Ville." 
Every smallest and least 
importantnotiee was pre- 
ceded by the phrase : 
" Commune de Paris. — 
Rep u blique Frangaise. 
Liberty. Equality. Fra- 
ternity." 

The Central Commit- 
tee gave its i)Owers into 
the hands of La Com- 
mune, which was a mere 
matter of form, designed 
to shield the personality 
of different members. 
'• The proclamation," it 
said, •■ of the 'iGth of 
Marcli has sanctioned 
the victorious Revolu- 
tion." It then went on 
to abuse the Versaillais 
as presumable Monarch- 
ists, and stated that the 
first nets of tlie new 
power would be a deci- 
sion as to the lowering 
of rents and the renew- 
al of commercial pai)er. 
These were measures in- 
tended to conciliate the 
middle class, which had 
been sorely distressed by 
the long business stag- 
nation consequent on the siege. The 
Commune abolished conscription, and 
decreed that no military force other 
than the National Guard could be created 
or introduced into Paris. All valid citi- 
zens were to be at once incorporated 
in the National Guard. 



No sooner was tiiis published than the 
exodus began, and did not cease until 
nearly every Parisian of fortune who 
could get away had gone. Thi' Com- 
nunial authorities made a great show of 
l)reventing deiiartures from Paris, but 



r '■■■ - 






.-.f^ 


t 






^ 






^^•^ 














THIERS AND MACSfAHON MEETING AT IJ i.NCiC 11 AM I't 



thej' were powerless in the matter. The 
Conunune struck a blow at the landlords 
as soon as it was firmly installed in 
power, by decreeing that no rent should 
tie collected fn^m tenants for the terms 
between October, 1870, and April, 1871 ; 
and that all the sums that had been paid 



43i; 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



for rent by teuauts (luring those nine 
uiontiis slioulil lie credited to tliem on 
future terms. This took millions upon 
millions of francs out of the pockets of 
the house-owning class, and to this day 
the jiroprUtaires cannot hear the Com- 
mune spoken of without geitiug into a 
towering passion forthwith. 

The effort of Paris to attain her auton- 
omy awakened a good deal of sympathy 
in the minds of the more intelligent of 
the property-holding classes ; but this 
sympathy was not strong enough to in- 
duce the sympathizers to act openly with 
the Commune. Paris wanted, according 
to the Communists, to lay down an ulti- 
matum to the general government, de- 
manding a guarantee for the autonomy 
of the great capit;d and for its recon- 
(juered municipal authority. After the 
elections the barbers, tailors, shoe- 
makers, and bakers in the central quar- 
ters, who had all lieen a few daj's before 
fiery defeu<lers of the law-and-order 
party, and loud in their denunciatioi s of 
the assassins and the moli of convicts, 
became somewhat conservative, and 
showed a disposition to side with the 
powers that be. The Connnune had at 
one time almost succeeded in t-onvincing 
tlie majority of the Parisians that the 
National Assembly at Versailles was de- 
termined to rest(n'e monarchy, and that 
to Paris had l)een conlided the glorious 
mission of sustaining and definitely 
founding the Re[iublic. 

Meantime business was at a stand-still, 
and money was scarce ; few shops were 
opi II. The C<.innuune, from lieginning 
to end of its brief career, aped all the 
tricks of the [ireceding governments ; 
;uid s<i it had an illumination on the 
night that the Commune was declared. 
This was called the Ffic of tiie Cora- 
luiine. The pte was measire and of 



true Republican simplicity. — a few paper 
lanterns luing in the Place de la Concorde 
and in the Tuileries. The two trium- 
phal arches wore brilliant with gas-jets. 
At the Hotel de Ville a fine dis|ilay was 
made. The National Guard and their 
wives and daughters paraded the princi- 
pal streets, singing revolutionary songs ; 
and many of the men, desi)ite the strict 
discipline to which they were supposed 
to be subject, were too much devoted to 
Bacchus. Returning home at midnight 
from an insjiection of these illuminations. 
I was ai)proaching a sentinel at the 
corner of the Rue Mont Thabor, and lu' 
halted me when I was certainly one hun- 
dred paces from him. •■ Paasez an 
large!" screamed the guardian of the 
Re[iublic. in a \oice which showed signs 
of the influence of absinthe. How to 
[lass at any mow respectful distance 
from this exacting sentinel tlian tiie 
width of the street I knew not. I was 
allowed to ad\ance within ten paces, 
when, in a drunken rage, he cried. 
^^ ]^OifIr:Z-r(Hfs jiassri' ait larr/c?^* e\'i- 
dently tliinking that I meant to disarm 
him. '■ Certainly," I said ; '■ which side, 
sentinel?" — "^1 nitri' ijaucia'. alorn." 
(To your left, then.) But when I started 
to the left, he raised his musket, and. 
pointing it rather unsteadily at me, said. 
'•Will you keep at a distance?" — 
'•Shall I not pass on this side?" — 
" Sacrt' /mm de Dien ! Do you not know 
wliich is your left hand?" 

I begge<l his pardon for having vent- 
lued t(j judge for myself which was my 
left liand, and was finally permitted to 
pass alive on the side which I iireviously 
sujiposed to be my right. Drunken sen- 
tinels were numerous enough in those 
days, and were a source of annoyance, 
as. in their cui)s, they were exacting and 
suspicious. 



ELROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



437 



CHAPTER FORTY-SIX. 



Decrees of the Commune. — The First Important Battle. — Floiirens Loses His Life. — Notes ou Communal 
.lourualism. — The Burning of the Guillotine. — Great Funerals. —An Artillery Duel. — An A^tou- 
ishiuir Spect.acle. 



IN the early days of April some of the 
more moderate of the Commiiiii.sts, 
among them Vermorel and Rane, re- 
signed, believing that the movement had 
liecome too revolutionary and public to 
admit of further association with it. 
They did uot mean by their resignations 
to imply that they despaired of leading a 
mob, but that they recognized the move- 
ment as indefinite in its aims, uot hav- 
ing in view the foundation of any special 
government, either for Paris or France, 
but being merely a protest against i<ing- 
sliips, against the clerical reactionary 
party, and against wliat Mr. Carlyle 
called " clothes." 

In these first days of April too, the 
Commune puljlished its famous decree, 
liy which it impeached Thiers, Jules 
Favre, Picard, Dufaure, and others who 
had been prominent in the work of na- 
tional defence, because, as the proclama- 
tion declared, "the men of the govern- 
ment of Versailles had ordered and 
begun a civil war, had attacked Paris, 
slain or wounded National Guards, sol- 
diers of the line, women and children." 
They decreed the confiscation of the 
goods aud chattels of these jjcrsonages, 
and it was not long after that JNI. Thiers' 
house was visited ; his art treasures, 
which were many aud \x'ry costly, were 
carried oit' and deposited in the Louvre, 
aud his papers were tossed about by 
grnuy hands. The decree of the 2d 
of April also announced the separation 



of Church and State, the suppression of 
the Imdget of public worsliip, and the 
seizure by tlie nation as national [irop- 
erty, of all the houses and lands belong- 
ing to religious congregations. How the 
Commime of Paris managed to make its 
decrees national no one knew, and no 
one of the Communists endeavored to ex- 
plain. Most of the churches were closed, 
aud in many cases, seals of the Commnue 
were placed upon their doois. From 
time to time they were ussed for cluljs, 
aud oft'ensi\ e and blasphemous language 
was heard in the pulpits. The violent 
hatred of the great masses of the sup- 
porters of the Commune for the clergy 
had been manifest from the beginning 
of the Commune, and increased in in- 
tensity until it culminated in the nuis- 
s.icre of the Archliishop and his col- 
leagues. 

On the .Sd of April came the first im- 
portant battle in which the Communist 
troops were engaged in front at Paris. 
Flourens hei-e lost his life ; Duval, an 
energetic Communist, was taken pris- 
oner, and shot ; and the Communist 
papers were filled with details of the 
ferocious conductof the Versailles troops. 
The fact is, that the insurrectionists 
were treated, from first to last, with the 
greatest rigor ; and in the early battles 
of the insurrection, little quarter was 
given on either side. 

After the disestablishment of the 
Church by the Commune, the iusurrec- 



438 



EUROFE TN STORM AND CAL}f. 



tionists took over}' occasion to show tlioir 
contempt for religious names and relig- 
ious enii)loyments. One day an ahh^ 
applied to the C<^miminal offleeis for 
permission to visit a prisoner in the Con- 
ciergerie. "Who are you?" said the 
Jack in BoDts who was in authority. 
"I am a seivant of God," was the 
answer. He was given a pass con- 
ceived thus : '"Allow freely to pass Citi- 
zen , servant of a person called 

God." This i)artook of mountehankery, 
and was signilicant of wliat was to come. 
All the Catholic institutions were visited 
and minutely inspected, and the antiiori- 
ties sought every [)retext for tiieir snp- 
jiression. One superior of a well-known 
institution achieveil a veritalile triunii>h 
when visiteil by one hundred armed men. 
wiio persisted in searching his i)lace, say- 
ing that enemies of the Republic were 
concealed therein. He opened his doors 
freely, and took them tln'ough a long 
suite iif rooms, all of wliieli were filled 
with wounded insui'geuts ; and the WDuld- 
be ins|)ectors went away very nnicli 
ashamed of tlicmsehes. 

The worst kind of journalism began 
to flourish so soon as the Connnunc was 
fairly installeil in ollice, and lasted until 
the close of the insurrection. The in- 
famous and scurrilous ^-Pdrc Duchesne" 
was the mostdisgusting of these journals. 
It was a low. blackguard publication, 
like the anonymous jirints of Congreve's 
lime, and was, in many resjiects, au 
exact co[)V of its prototype of the old 
devolution. It was (illeil with oaths and 
exclamations which lioiilered closely on 
revolting vulgarity ; and the comments 
of this ••Pri-r Diii-hi'siic " were sujiposed 
to embodv the otlii-ial opinions of 
the Couunune. '• J'crt' DucJii-sue" talked 
of hanging, burning, drawing and 
quartering the hmu-'/i'iiix and the aristo- 
crats without (_onii)Unetion. The carica- 



tures in the comic [japers devoted to the 
Conniiune were often extremely irrever- 
ent. In one, .lules Favre was represented 
as Judas, and the quotation from St. 
Matthew concerning the faithless kiss of 
the lietrayer was applied to a big-headed 
Favre kissing an ugly-looking wench, 
in a red dress, su|iposed to represent 
the Republic. In another, Thiers was 
represented as an accomi)lishc<l acrobat, 
upholding on his broad shoulders all the 
asi)irauts to royalty aud the throne of 
France. 

Curious and impressive was the scene 
enacted on the horrible Place de la Ro- 
(juetto, where Troppmann's execution had 
occurred some time liefore. The Com- 
munists, in searching among the prisons, 
which they were very fond of in- 
specting, found pieces of seventeen 
guillotines, old and new, and therefore 
they sent f:)rtli hither and yon men to 
)'attle on drums and announce that the 
aforesaid guillotines would be publicly 
burned on the Place of the Condemned. 
''Come and see, citizens, thi' promise 
of La Commune that a reign of terror 
shall not be reestablished, at least with 
guillotines, foi' it is so easy to lie con- 
demned by them, once they are in good 
working order; within their fatal arms 
they are always seeking to enfold you. 
Let us annihilate the scarlet destroyers." 
And so blazing piles were heaped high, 
anil thousands of people danced in joy 
around the fires in which perished the 
blood-stained machine mider whose 
knife Orsini died. The women were the 
most enthusiastic partici|iants in this cer- 
eiuony of biu'uing the guillotines, and 
they danced, marched, and howled about 
the fiames for hoins, evidently taking as 
much delight in it as they did in lalxjring 
on (he ramparts, another of their favor- 
ite anuisemenls. fortifying against those 
whom they were i)leased to term the 



EVUOFE IN STORM AND CALM. 



439 



"Prussians of Versailles." A common 
spectacle on the fortifications was a row 
of National Guards seated gravely smok- 
ing their pipes while the women were 
digging at the turf and the sods and 
liiling tliem ui) on the ramparts. 

One day near the insurrectionist liar- 
ricades, on the Place V'endOme, I dis- 
covered an acquaintance of mine, aged 
si.\ years, industriously employed in 
rearing rival barricades with lots of pav- 
iug-stones, left where the 
street had been torn up. 
In the embrasure of these 
few stones he and his 
companions presently 
mounted a toy cannon, 
pointed at the defenders 
of La Commune. A sen- 
tinel looked curiously on ; 
bystanders smiled ; the 
child's hair blew about 
his forehead, fanned by 
the evening breeze, and 
his face took on a fero- 
cious asiiect as lie tugged 
at the heavy stones. 

The One Hundred and 
First Battalion of the in- 
surgents was quite fa- 
mous. It was composed of 
small, thin, and ignorant 
workmen from the sub- 
urban quarters, meanly and not quite uni- 
formly clad. Their weapons were of all 
shapes and sizes, and tosee them marching 
along one of the splendid boulevards one 
might have imagined that Jack Falstaff 
and ills army had come to town. But 
they fought like demons, never missing a 
chance in the trenches before Paris. The 
battalion conducted itself well. It was 
the first battalion in the Place Vendftme ; 
it captured two cnnuon and a iintniiUputte 
at Chatillon from the Versailles troops, 
and wherever it appeared thereafter 



among the Communists it was received 
with cheers. 

One morning the bill-boards of the 
Commune were placarded with the fol- 
lowing notice, dressed in deep mourning : 
' ' Citizens : — La Commune of Paris invites 
you to attend the burial of our l)rethreu 
assassinated by the enemies of the Re- 
public during the days of the 3d, 4th, 
and 5th of April. The meeting will 
be at the Hospital Beaujeau, at two 




DE.^TII OF FLOURENS. 

o'clock ; burial at the cemetery of P^re 
La Chaise." 

From curiositj' or sympathy, thou- 
sands attended the funeral, and three 
immense hearses, with sixteen dead Na- 
tional Guards in each, moved slowly up 
the streets to the far-off ceraeter_v that 
afternoon. 1 had seen the burial pag- 
eantry of a ^Marshal of the Empire, but 
it was not so impressive as this. Thou- 
sands of troops followed slowly with un- 
covered heads, and the armed escort, 
headed by muffled drums and a number 



440 



EUROPE IN STORM A.\D CALM. 



of tiumpetcrs playing mournful airs, 
met \vith marks of respectful syini)atliy 
everywhere. Each man wore an immor- 
telle, and tliis gave to the whole proces- 
sion the air of a vast partem' covered 
witli lilossoms. There were few noisy 
demonstrations. The occasional roar of 
the cannon reminded every one that there 
was no time for wasting tears or breath. 
As the head of the funeral procession 
readied the point opposite the C'iiau3S(''e 
d'Autin, where there weremany thousands 
of spectators massed togetlier, another 
funeral procession, composed of a siialihy 
hearse with a pine-wood coffin in it, fol- 
lowed by half adozen humble pcoi)le, came 
out from the Rue Louis le Grand, and 
crossed directly at right angles. Misery 
and splendor in burial ceremonial were 
never in more startling contrast than 
here, and a sob of sympathy seemed to 
burst from the spectators in profound 
unisiin. Tlie addresse.s at the cemetery 
were full of vindictive threats and allu- 
sions to the cowardly assassinations of 
tlie bi'others in arms. The deatli of 
Flomens, wliich had been a great blow 
to tlie Commune, was more than once 
alhided to in a manner whicii siiowed 
that vengeance was intended. Next day 
I rode to the review which the Commu- 
nists had announced to take [ilace on tlie 
Champ de Mars, and, in common with 
thousands of other si>eeiators, was com- 
fortably ensconcing myself on the sunny 
slope of the Trocadero, when my atten- 
tion was arrested by a tremendous can- 
nonading, which burst smldenly upon our 
hearing from the direction of Fort Issy. 
The thousands of spectators turned their 
eyes towards the fort, and it was evident 
to all that a great artiUei-y duel was be- 
ginning. The Versailles troops had es- 
tablished their batteries on a plateau 
between Meudon and Issy, and were 
tiriny; brisklv. But tlie foit, which was 



entirely unarmed when I had visited it a 
week and a half before, now seemed 
magnificently (irovided with cannon, and 
vomited fire and smoke continuously. 
Over Chatillon little puffs constantly 
arising showed that the insurgents had 
a flattery there also, and were making 
the most of the defensive works which 
the Prussians iiad left beliiiid tiiem. 
Gradually the whole horizon beyond was 
enveloped in the smoke from liatteries, 
and the thunders of the artillery were 
distinctly audilile for miles around. On 
the great plain below, that which, in 
bS67, received upon its vast expanse the 
delegates of all the nations, several thou- 
sand men were manoeuvring. Tlie sheen 
of tiieir arms, the occasional faint 
echoes of martial music, borne to us on 
the breeze, gave us all tlie spirit of a 
review, while we were in tlie presence of 
an active battle. Tlie whole space in 
front of the tcole Militaire was occupied 
by regiments of National Guards, who 
mauannred with much precision. A Virill- 
iant staff rode up and down eonimaiuling 
imperiously, but with our tield-glasses we 
could discern that they cast timid glances 
in the direction of Issy, where tlie battle 
every moment gained in vigor. Its tre- 
mendous fusillade was showing its wliite 
line of smoke under the batteries of Issy, 
and the Versailles troops and the wa- 
vering response on the insurgents' side 
indicated that the fort was now in <lan- 
ger. 

,Sud<lenly we heard the sharp voice of 
the insurgents' batteries in the neighbor- 
hood of the Avenue de la Grande Arm(;'e, 
and hastened towards the ramparts at 
that point, where a gate opened into the 
Porte iMaillot Here I was lirought to 
a sharp halt by a sentinel, who assured 
me that I could go no farther : and even 
the production of numerous Communistic 
iiasses was of only sullicieiit avail to 



EfROTE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



441 



procure me a threat of immeiliate arrest 
if I ventured to mount the raui|)arts. I 
turned awaj', and proceeded in tlie direc- 
tion of the Triumphal Arch. On getting 
near this monument, wlience I could 
have an unolistrncted view of the Neuilly 
gate and as far as Courbevoie, on the 
long, straight avenue of Neuilly, which 
runs without the slightest curve or break 



now endeavoring to retake. This liarri- 
cade was stoutly defended by the insur- 
gents, who were protected by batteries 
ou all sides. 

In and around tlie Triumphal Arch, and 
iialf-way down the avenue of the Grand 
Army, in the direction of the flgiiting, 
was clustered, perched, stuffed, packed, 
and jammed together, a crowd of perhaps 




THE RUE PERRONET AT NEUILLY. 



until the hill shuts out the view beyond, 
I saw that a battle was engaged, and 
shells were beginning to fall unpleasantly 
near. Many exploded in the air, and 
each shell was said to have one hundred 
bullets in it. At the top of the hill just 
mentioned is a large tower, and half-way 
between this tower and the gate of the 
Paris fortifications was a Luge barricade, 
which the Versailles troops had held the 
day before, had abandoned, and were 



thirty thousand [leople. iMost of these 
were citizens of Paris, and from tlie u|iper 
classes. They were in carriages and 
dog-carts, mounted on omnibuses, and 
on the lialconies and roofs of the sur- 
rounding houses. Men and women, 
elegantly dressed, joked and lauglied 
over the struggles of the fighting men on 
the hills and plains below. It was like 
a Grand Prix day in the Boisde Boulogne. 
It was impossible for a stranger to under- 



442 



EUROrE IX STORM A.VP CALM. 



staiul how tliose po()i)le <if society loiiked 
with such evident unconcern ;it wiiat 
seemed to lie the lieginuing' of ;i san<jui- 
uarv civil war. The men cheered and 
the women waved theii' liardkeix'hiefs 
whenever a shell Imrst, but for what 
reason they would have lieen puzzled to 
say. The foolishly frivolous and fasliion- 
altle class, which neither represented 
Paris nor France, was in full foife on 
this occasion ; and once or twice the 
Communists, stalking about in the crowd, 
showed an inclination to strip these fine 
birds of their feathers. Numbers of car- 
i-iages tilled with American ladies and 
gentlemen were grouped about the Tri- 
umphal Arch. Here and there people 
were so enthusiastic iu their i)raise of the 
Conuuunal tnjops as to call out adverse 
criticism from their aristocratic neighbors 
in the gathering. 

iSow and then a little panic was pro- 
duced liy the ambition of some shell, which 
overleai)ed the range of the jirevious 
ones, and which fell with a frightful 
crash, and not far away. Evei'v moment 
shells came up st<'a<lily in a little puff of 
white smoke, which was speedily illumi- 
nated by a Hash and then died away. 
Somelimes the line of liattle iu front of 
the gate, only a siiort half-mile from the 
Arch, would l)e seen to waver under the 
pressure of the iirt' of regular troo[)s ; 
then the whole avenue wonkl look like a 
fuiuace, with jets of flame escaping tVom 



imm< use clouds of smoke, for ten minutes 
at a time. Now and then one or two 
men would disappear under the crushing- 
explosion of a shell; then a tremendous 
nuisket-tire would break out from hedge 
and house and wall, directed at the ap- 
l)roaciiiiig ^'ersailles artillerv-men, and 
the croud regarded it as a glorious spec- 
tacle, and laughed, and ate lionbons, and 
went (piietly home to dinuei-. liut it was 
astonished to learn that, an hour after it 
had left, shells w^ere falling thickly on and 
around the Arch. 

The government troops had got the 
contested barricade again at considerable 
loss, and were now steadil}" approaching 
the gates. When I left shells were fall- 
ing l)y dozens in the rich and fashiona))le 
quarter, — the Versuillais not hesitating 
to bombard the capital, although they 
had called the Prussians Vandals because 
the}' had done the smne thing. ]\Ianv 
insurgents were coming liack from the 
tight, cross and bleeding, and elbowing 
citizens in no gentle spirit : fresh ai'til- 
lery trains driven by liners who had de- 
serted at the outbreak of the Commune, 
and the guns, maimed l>y soldiers iu 
all kinds of uniforms, rattled up through 
the Ciiamps Elysees. and went towards 
the gates. With the glass we could see 
that Neuilly had been badly demolished : 
liouses had been riddled with shell, and 
many peo|ile were killed in the street. 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



443 



CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN. 

Pictures of tlic Comnnme. — Gonoral ( liiscrct. — The Hostages. — A Visit to tlie Communal >[iiiistiy of 
Public Instruction. — The Armistice. — Toucliinjr Incidents of the FratriciLhil Struggle. 



DURING the whoK- .)l' tliv mouth of 
April a vigorous liiit iisi'loss figiit 
was kept up botweeu troops of the C'oni- 
nunie :iud those of the reguhvr ^overu- 
nieut at Versailk's. Tlie liattk^ on the 
road to Neuilly, descM-ihod in the hist 
chapter, was ch\inied liy tlie C'oniminial 
authorities as a victory, and tlie Com- 
mune issued a flaming despatch in which 
it said that " Bcrgeret himself" was at 
Neuilly. This " Bergeret himself" 
-.mused the Parisians who were not 
vyinpathetie with the Conmiune, and the 
poor fellow never heard tlie last of it, 
althougii he was soon replaced as the 
delegate for war by Cluscret, who inau- 
giu'ated his campaign by posting up a 
l)roclamation to the people of Paris, in 
whicli lie said that the Versailles troops 
were shooting tlie prisoners, killing the 
wounded, and firinsj u|)on ambiihuices. 
About this time the Parisians discovered 
that they were doomed to suffer a second 
iKunbardment, which seemed likel}- to 
;)rove much more serious than tiiat to 
which they had been subjected lij* tlie 
Prussians. The bombardment of tiie 
siege cost Paris but only one hundred 
and ninet}' lives ; but that of the Ver- 
sailles troops was far more deadly, and 
appears to iiave been of no use whatso- 
ever in hastening the surrender of the 
capital. 

In these early days of April we went 
into the bombarded quarter every day to 
see the siglits, and to bring back to the 
deserted boulevards the gossif) from the 



front. There was at that time no pillage ; 
tlie citizeu guards were neither l)rntal 
nor impolite. Women were treated witli 
genuine respect, and altlioiigli a Belgian 
correspondent liad telegraiilied to liis 
journal that the excitement had made 
every one ghastly and green with fear, 
and ready to gnaw his Hugers with re- 
morse, sucli was not the case. Am- 
bulances were almost tlie only vehicles 
soeu in the bombarded quarters. The 
red flag waved on the tops of all the 
buildings and most of the churches ; 
barricades were going up right and left 
in the }irincii)al streets. Citizen Pascal 
Grousset. destined to become famous in 
connection with the Commune later on. 
was the liea<l of the commission for the 
constrnetiou of barricades. Half-way 
ni! the Champs Elysees. the otticers of 
battalions guarding that (juarter had 
made a line of demarcation, l)eyoiid 
which only those citizens lionored with 
passes were allowed to go. 

A visit to this quarter which I made 
on the 9th of April, ma.y serve as typical 
to visits any day thereafter until the 
entry of the regular troops into Paris. 
All the side aveuues radiating from the 
Arc de Triomphe were filled with soldiers : 
guns were stacked in one street, and 
liners, who had deserted at tlie outbreak 
of the Commune, were tranquilly Imild- 
iug fires to boil their cofl'ee, paying little 
attention to the shells which came eveiy 
minute or two into their neighborhood. 
We were halted by an officer at the 



444 



EUROPE LV SrOR.V JXD C.IL.V. 



Art-li, anil tliis (liniiiintivo otlicial pro- 
ceeded to examine our papers with niiieh 
dignity, when a series of sharp liisses 
followed liy a deafening crash caused 
the little Frenchman hurriedly tocruni|)le 
up our passes, throw them into our 
carriage, and force our reluctant coach- 
man forward. The shell struck in the 
centre of the Avenue des Champs Ely sees, 
sending its deadly fragments in all direc- 
tions. Then came a tremendous series 
of detonations, and the air was filled 
with liuUets, and the dt-bris of what was 
called a mitrallh; l)ox. From all sides 
c.aine echoes, soundiuij,' like protests from 
the departing owners of the fine residences 
lining each side of the avenue. At the 
Ottoman Embassy we found numerous 
marks of shot and shell, and two people 
were killed at the very doors of the 
Embassy that morning. The younger 
soldiers were so excited that they jostled 
us right and left and made rather sharp 
comments on the curiositj'-seekers. The 
men on guard were of the Ijetter class ; 
some had been forced in ; others had 
volunteered, and were anxious to fight. 
In the Kue de Chaillot we saw 3Ir. 
Washburne's carriage driving rapidly 
away, the old gentleman quietly reading 
the morning paper as he went his round 
of daily duties, which in variety and 
piquancy have never been equalled iu 
the history of the American Legation 
\\\ Paris. 

When the great figiit at the Porte 
St. Martin Theatre was at its height, 
when houses on either side of the 
street were completely wrecked, and 
a storm of shot and shell had raged for 
more than two hours, I saw our Ameri- 
can minister quietly drive up to the 
barricade, and, stepiiing into the front 
lank of the regulai'S, take out his o|iera- 
giasses, survey as much of the situa- 
tion as was po.ssible through the smoke, 



anil then retire as coolly as if he were 
leaving his liox at the opera. 

In a few moments we -n-ere standing 
directly in front of tlie Arch in the 
Avenue de la Grande Armee ; and here 
a soldiei' remarked that the Royalists, 
as the Versailles troops wtae called, 
were hard at woik. Why they should 
have chosen tr> Ixmiliard the quarter iu- 
haliited almost exclusively liy wealthy 
Parisians and foreigners this soldier was 
at a loss to discover, and we quite 
ngreed with him that it would have 
been, from a Versailles point of view, 
more practical to shell Belleville and La 
Villette. When we came l)ack to the 
Rue de Presbourg, a lady showed us in 
the upiier chamber of a mansion the 
wreck of costly furniture, hric-('l-bmc, 
Sevres china, and tine paintings just 
caused Ijy a shell from a Versailles 
battery. Near by, a fine villa, occupied 
liy an American family, had been visited 
l.iy so many shells that all the treasures 
iu a Ijeauliful art caliinet were demol- 
ished. The day previous to our visit in 
the direction of the Porte Maillot, while 
a poor woman was giving her soldier- 
iuisband a dinner she had brought him, 
a shell killed him and carried away part 
of the woman's face. Almost at the 
same time a sentinel was killed by the 
discharge from a gun hung over the 
shoulder of an orderly galloping by, 
the gun being touched by a fragment 
of shell, which embedded itself in the 
orderly's back. 

The curiosity of the Parisians caused 
many casualties ; but as soon as a 
wounded man was seen a group gathered 
about him, and. while they were gazing at 
him, the siilinters from newly arriving 
shells made many victims among them. 
Out of two hundred wounded jieople 
taken to the hospital at the Palais de 
rindustrie, the attendant physicians said 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



445 



tlial lifci'dly ten per ceut. coiilil survivt'. 
Nearly all these mea were struck down 
by shells jusf ready to explode. The 
avenue leading to the Bois de Boulogne 
was empty and desolate enough. A 
few soldiers hung about the gate lead- 
ing into the wood, and a solitary sen- 
tinel on the raniiiarts was hugging his 
gun. 

At the American Legation there was 
uo sign of life. A half-drunken old 
man, drawing au apple-cart, as he passed 
the door of the Legation had ills patriot- 
ism awakened by the spectacle of ex- 
ploring strangers, and had just taken 
one of us by the collar for a Prussian, 
when he stumbled and fell ; and there 
was a terrific crash which nearly fright- 
ened him out of his senses. Picking 
himself up, he took his apple-cart and 
departed in haste for a safer neighbor- 
hood. It was a curious spectacle to see 
hundreds of ladies and gentlemen watch- 
ing the white smoke puffs of Valerieu, 
and to see them retire gradually as the 
gunners got their range, and as the shells 
came nearer and nearer. The children 
went ou calmly playing hop-scotch in 
the streets, and men and women sat 
in their doors waiting for eveuts, and 
gossiping about the wounded. No 
American lady who visited Paris during 
the Commnne thought her morning com- 
plete without she had been driven out 
under fire and had seen some incident 
of the 1)ombardment. The Communist 
officers were very fond of parading be- 
fore strangers, and usually made artful 
appeals to their sympathies. Donibrow- 
ski, and men of his type, made a good 
ai)pearanee, and their eloquence was 
sometimes cpiite convincing. 

One morning I was at the JMinistry of 
War, engaged in conversation with C4en- 
eral C'luseret's secretary, when a chief 
of battalion entered, and announced that 



his men were mutinous and no longei 
desired to march. " Disarm them, citi- 
zen !" was the answer. " But I cannot 
disarm them," he said. " They will lie 
about the streets dying with liunger in a 
few days if I do that. You know there 
is no work, and we cannot afford '" — 
Here he was sterul}' interrupted, and 
informed that the Commune had no 
duties towards any man who would not 
fight to protect it, and that if the recal- 
citrant needed any charity, after they 
were disarmed, tiiey might go to Ver- 
sailles to get it. The result was that 
the men did not carry out their intention 
to mutiny. Calhoun speaks somewhere 
of the cohesive force of plunder ; but 
here it was the cohesive force of a com- 
mon misery which kept these men in the 
Communal movement. 

At this time the Communal insurrec- 
tion was respected and dignified ; but it 
was destined soon to degenerate into the 
broadest license, and the wildest social- 
ism, and most vindictive carnage. The 
Conservative party, in its fright and in 
its anger, invented accounts of the exe- 
cution of priests and the sacking of con- 
vents and churches which had never 
taken place. The Sacristan of Notre 
Dame even wrote to the Paris papers 
that his golden and silver vessels re- 
mained in the same receptacle where 
they had lain for years, and denied the 
story that the Communists had inquired 
for them. 

The famous decree of the Commune as 
to hostages was published on the Gth of 
April, and was provoked, it i.s said, by 
the fact that the Versailles troops gave 
uo quarter, and that the hundreds of 
suspected persons wiio had been ar- 
rested and imprisoned in the gloomy 
garrison l;)uilding at Versailles were 
treated with great harshness. Article 
Fifth of the Connuunal decree declaied 



44(3 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



that any execution of a iirUonev of war, 
01' a person of the regular government of 
the Commune of Paris, should be in- 
stantly followed by those of a triple num- 
ber of hostages, who should be designated 
by lot. This was generally considered l.)v 
the [iroperty-holding classes as the inau- 
guration of a new reign of terror. The 
arrests of the venerable Archbishop of 
Paris, the Cnr^' of the Madeleine, and 
various other of the nunierons ecclesias- 
tics, and their imprisonment in the Con- 
ciergerie, constituted a fatal error, and 
the more intelligent of the Communists 
recognized from the first that it had 
placed them under the lian (.)f public 
opinion in more tjian three-(piarters of 
the cunmnnii'S in France. The Arcli- 
bishop wrote a letter explaining his 
position ; that he was held as a hostage, 
and saying tiiat, if the barbarities of 
which tile ComMuuiists accused the ^'er- 
saillais really existed, they were higldy 
I'epreiicnsibie. The Arclibishop added 
tiiat he wrote this sentence under no 
threat, but of his own free wil!, as a 
good Frencli citizen. 

A few days aftei' tile [irelate's arrest 
a friend said to me, •• I liave lieen this 
morninir to get my cun'' released. I lold 
tlie Conuuunists tliat they we:'e keeping 
in prison a Republican and a much older 
revolutionist than tliemselves. and that I 
myself was i>rosecuted for my liberal prin- 
ciples long l)efore many of tiie leaders in 
tliis movement were born. Tliey informed 
me that the cure was i<cpt merely as a 
hostage ; that they were (■ompelled to use 
severe measures to diminish the arro- 
gance of the Veisailles troo]is : and that 
tliere were so many priests connected 
witli (M)ns|)iracies for tlie reestalilishment 
of tlu' Kmiiire,or fora new monarchy, tliat 
tliev would doulitless be t'i)mpelled to ar- 
rest them all. They denied, liowevcr, 
that any priest had been maltreated." 



General Cluseret, in his post as dele- 
gate for war, was the virtual heail of 
the insurrection until his rigid devotion 
to discipline made him unpopular. 
One of his first announcements was tliat 
he did not intend to be disobeyed, lie 
signed one of his preliminary orders 
" Minister of War," on his own ac- 
count, and no one contradicted him, 
because he seemed competent to fulfil 
tlie duties of that position. Mis court- 
martials worked cpiickly, and had but 
little mercy. The General had lived 
poorly and fared liard for many years in 
|)ursuance of the cause of lilierty. A 
consummate energy and a certain dash 
and braverv were Lis chief qualities. 
Not very long before the Empire came 
to grief, Cluseret was visited in liis lodg- 
ings at Siiresues by some Imperial 
agents, who informed liiin that lie was 
tlieir prisoner. He denied this soft im- 
peaclinient, and announced to them that 
he was a naturalized American citizen. 
He insisted ujion being taken before Mr. 
Washburne, who accomiianied him to 
the Ministry of Foreign .Vll'airs, and 
tliere a species of convention was made 
by which Cluseret was allowed to re- 
main ten days on F"'rench soil. Before 
tliese had expired lie had olitained an- 
other ten days of grace ; and S(j he 
Continued to prolong his residence until 
he liad accomplished the revolutionary 
work for wliieli he had reentered the coun- 
try. From the first he was determined 
not to deceive tlie Parisians as to what 
they iiiight expect even if tliey achieved 
their aim of making Paris a free I'ity. 
He warned them against all Socialistic 
nonsense, and assured tlie soldiers that 
they would have to go back to be simple 
workmen as before. Aided by a some- 
what reniarkalile ciiief of staff, he re- 
ceived luindretls of visitors dail3', and 
despatche<l immense quantities of work. 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



447 



One morning, as 1 went to his ofHces, I 
was accosted by a captain, wlio said to 
me in English, " I am from Pawtucket, 
and have come home just now to help." 
Another inquired timidly what the Ameri- 
cans really thought of the cause of 
Paris, and scowled as I explained to 
him the drift of opinion beyond the sea 
as to the great Communal insurrection. 

The list of unsuccessful amiJUtations 
duiing these anxious days was enor- 
mous, considering the reputation for 
surgery that the French had theretofore 
maintained. The chief surgeon at the 
ambulance of the Palais de ITudustrie 
told nie that of one hundred and forty- 
five wounded lirought t" him in two 
days, all but five per cent, would die. 
The gre;it uumlier of ambulances, as the 
extemporized hospitals were called, 
which had existed during the Prussian 
siege, had been dissolved or scattered 
right or left ; and so the Commune under- 
took to form ambulance companies, each 
containing twenty doctors or health 
offlcei'S, sixty medical students, ten wag- 
ons, and one hundred and twenty litter- 
carriers. Each company was divided 
into six squadrons, two of which must 
at any time be found in the ward to 
which they belonged ; and all these 
were to be subject to the orders of a 
medical commission sitting at the H'5tel 
de Ville. The doctors received the pay 
of captains. The Connnunists accused 
the Versailles government of allowing 
its batteries to play upon the press am- 
bulance just inside the fortifications, a 
hospital in which five hundred seriously 
wounded men were lying. But each of 
the contesting forces claimed that the 
other did not respect the Geneva flag. 

The flotilla of gun-lioats on the Seine 
and the Trocadero batteries were the 
sensations of mid-April. The eight 
gun-boats, which had done such great 



service against the Piussians, now had a 
red flag floating above them, kept steam 
constantly up, and woe ready to go 
into any engagement where they could 
be useful. Their duty was to keep the 
Seine clear of anj' sudden invasion of 
Versailles troops. The batteries of the 
Trocadero had been throwing shell into 
Mont Valerien, a feat which few observ- 
ers thought they could accomplish from 
Trocadero, which in those days was a 
barren plateau with long flights of stone 
steps leading down to the Seine. The 
spectacle was remarkably tine. The 
whole horizon would be obscured by 
white smoke for a few moments, then 
the veil would arise, and the liattered 
hulks of forts Issy and Montrouge would 
loom up and disappear like phantoiHS in 
the battle mist. The smoke from the 
batteries at the Porte Maillot and at 
these forts hung like a [lall owv the 
city one evening, and the fusillade was 
so heavy and sustained that many [leo- 
ple rushed out of their houses expecting 
to And Versailles troops in the Place de 
la Concorde. 

On the morning of the '2.'3d of Ai>ril I 
went to the Ministry of War, and, after 
some waiting, saw General Cluseret, 
with whom I had an interesting conver- 
sation. The General was dressed in the 
simplest manner, wearing an old Ameri- 
can Alpine hat, and a plain suit of trav- 
elling clothes, rather the wo]-se for wear. 
The anteroom, as well as the granil inner 
hall where the officers of the Second 
Emi)ire had so lately disported them- 
selves, was filled with troopers of all 
shapes, sizes, and conditions. One cav- 
alry man, covered with mud from head 
to foot, leaned wearily on his sword and 
told the story of an attack ; another 
stroked his long yellow mustaches, and 
growled because his men could not 
get any bread to eat. A group of 



44.S 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



liners, one or two l)loo(l-st:vine(l nud 
half-famished, clamored for the General, 
and insisted <>n seeing him. Wiieu the 
lialiel was at its height, C'luseret stalked 
out of his otHce, jostled the soldiers right 
and left, and exclaimed that lie could 
not lie bothered with these silly tales ; 
and each complaiiier shrank away. He 
went to au inner room, where the council 
of war was at once called, and one could 
see him througli the open door, deciding 
and discussing measures anxiously, Init 
witii a force of will which s\ve[it every- 
thing before it. Yet he admitted tliat 
there was plenty of cause for disconr- 
agement, and that not eveo the most ex- 
traordinary animal magnetism could for 
anv length of time overcome and cow 
sii many thousands (if uuiuly s[iirits as 
were to be found in the ranks of tlie 
Communists. 

Those officers and troo[)ers who came 
and went in the war-(_>tliee seemed will- 
ing enough to die for the Commune, if 
it were necessary. Among them were 
many old men, hard-featured, with sixty 
winters' sn<:ius on their lieads ; and two 
or three of these venerable rebels told 
uie that they were voUuiteerj. 'Ihey 
were risking their heads for forty sons a 
day. said the buiirijeois ; but I believe 
tliat they wore honest in motive, and, 
luiil thev been properly chilled, would 
have done wonders. 

Over the gate of the Ministry of War 
fluttered the red Hag, with an inscription 
of the Conunune of Paris on its folds. 
.Inst within the piortico, where the siui- 
liiiht was merry on the gorgeous glass 
and gilding, a pretty nnitinirri' had 
taken off her shoes and stockings and 
was washing her feet after a long march. 
Every few minutes processions of small 
boys, from eleven to sixteen years of 
age, marched by, each flourishing a crim- 
.son (Iropcini. Tlie marines, wlio were de- 



serters from the Versailles army, were just 
going out to the front on this day. They 
were enthusiastic in their cries for the 
freedom of Paris. A little drummer- 
boy, eleven years old, marshalled them 
along, and a great crowd gathered to see 
them march past. Then came lumlier- 
traius and i-equisition-wagons, badly 
mounted orderlies galloping to and fro, 
and slouching Mobiles, with their guns 
slung on their shoulders, men sullen in 
aspect, and not soldierly in mien. 

Armed with a letter of introduction I 
went on this same day to visit the citizen 
Minister of Public Instruction at the 
Hotel de Ville, which edilice I found so 
surrounded with Ijarricades and sentinels 
that it seemed impossible to approach. 
At last, by tortuous ways, we got into the 
squai'e around which so many revoln- 
tiouary currents had eddied, and where 
Louis XL's hangmen had elevated their 
cross-tree and ladder so many times. 
At the entrance to the last barricade 
was a citizen more or less under the 
influence of drink, as Communist senti- 
nels were too often found. To this citi- 
zen 1 was compelled to read my letter 
of introduction twice, and to exhibit all 
the papers which 1 carried in my pock- 
ets, among them a telegram some two or 
three years old. The huge red seal, 
with the outlined woman supposed to 
represent the goddess of war sitting 
uiKin an outlined throne, with rays of 
glory about her head, linally satisfied 
this good man, and I passed up through 
a row of iiiifruiHeiiscs and pieces of 
twelve, as the French called them, into 
the gate of the great Hotel de Ville. 
Some of the cannon were curiously pro- 
tected by heavy iron shields, so arranged 
as to shelter the artillery-men in the field, 
whei'e there might otherwise be but little 
slielter. Two battalions came marching 
in behind me, a band of music playing 



ErifOI'E IX STORM AXD CALM. 



449 



at tlie head of each, and dctcniiinod 
looking offleer.s scolding and fuming at 
tlieii' soinewliat undisciplined men. Here 
and there a stray member of the Com- 
mune, distinguishable by his red searf, 
was |)romenading with his arms crossed 
behind his back and his head bent for- 
ward as if he were 
deciding upon the 
destinies of the 
eai)ital. Little 
boys and gawky 
youths stood at a 
res|)ectful dis- 



■^'mm 



prison of the Concieigerie, I linally 
found the Instruction Commission in a 
room at the bottom of a long corridor. 
P^ntering this room, I was greeted by a 
gentle, homeh'-clail hunchback, who an- 
nounced himself as the Citizen Magnet, 
and begged me to be seated. 

Citizen Magnet was knee-deep in 
papers of all kinds. He was evidently 
delighted with his promotion to high 
office, and talked fluently about demands 
for succor from various educational in- 
stitutions, and the thought that he had 
to give them. " Since the separation of 
Church and State, citizen," he said, '■ and 







tance watching with l)ated lireatii the 
movements of the great man. A throng 
of youths, aged from fifteen to eighteen, 
was hastening in and out of the gates. 
These boys had come to get authorized 
for various services under the Commune. 
Making my way up the grand staircase, 
and passing the private otlice of Citizen 
Assi, who had but recently emerged 
from his disciplinary confinement in the 



EPISODE OF THE COMMUNE. — GEN- 
ER.VL L.\ CECILIA REVIEWING HTS 
TROOPS. 

the secularization of the schools, yon 
can imagine that a vast affluence of 
communications has come to the com- 
mission. You can judge of that by the 
envelopes strewing the floor." There 
was something impressive, if also a little 
amusing, in the manner in which the old 
Communal functionary took for granted 
the permanent separation of the Church 
from the State, and the complete suc- 
cess of all the other revolutionary meas- 
ures. He seemed convinced that his 
reign would last for his lifetime, al- 



450 



EUROPE IX sroli.M AXD CALM. 



though he had only to go to the balcony 
at the front of the great edifice and to 
listen to the harsh cracking of the nuis- 
ketiy and the boom of the cannon to 
convince him that the battle was not yet 
over. This deformed and amial)le " min- 
ister " liad been heard of before in 
France. He had pnblished a map of 
the country, of which the tracts dis- 
tinguished by the ignorance of their 
inhabitants tigured in black, and those 
of relative intelligence were denoted by 
white. lie took great pleasure in show- 
ing me these maps, and expressing his 
indignation at the folly of preceding 
governments in allowing ignorance so 
long to disfigure fair France. He spoke 
ho[>efiilly and sternly of his task, was 
anxious for information from abroad, 
and said he hoped soon to begin to ex- 
change reports with the great educa- 
tional commissions of the leading foreign 
capitals. I could not bring him to any 
expression of opinion as to the merits 
of his niilitaiv colleagues. He [lut aside 
all my inquiries with dexten^ns and def- 
erential courtesy, and at last conducted 
me to the otlice of the Citizen Vaillant, 
who was charged with the iiighest du- 
ties connected with publi(_' instiuction. 

Citizen Vaillant was not to be found. 
A grand review was in progress in front 
of the ll.'itel dc \'ille. Two held bat- 
talions, some thi'ec thousand men, had 
been drawn up in line .since my entrance, 
and now- stretched across the Place de 
Greve. From the long hall fronting on 
this place, — hall in which the Executive 
Commission and the liureau of Infor- 
mation of the Commune had established 
their antechambers. — I could see the re- 
view in jirogress an<l hear the crash of 
the drinns. That which se(>med an echo 
in the distance was in I'eality the dull 
music of the Versailles batteries playing 
vigorously against the Porte Maillot. 



On the right, as I entered the hall, I saw 
the line fresco representing Lutetia seated 
on a throne, with her bow and spear and 
a gigantic shield, and with the world at 
her feet. How had this daughter of the 
morn and the child of smiles and sun- 
shine fallen in the last few eventful 
months ! 

The troops undergoing review looked 
fairly well. Bands not so full as those 
of the Empire, but patriotic and blatant, 
marched to the fniut of the grand 
entrance with a huge tanibuur-iuajor 
preceding them. When the customary 
routine was finished, the Colonel drew 
up, took off his hat, and shouted ••Vn:e 
hi Li(/in'!" — •'Hurrah for the Regular 
Army!" — and I then perceived that 
there were many line soldiers in the 
ranks. These were the men whom, after 
the seven days' fight, Cieneral De Gal- 
liffet so mercilessly slew. The review 
continuing, the same Colonel called 
around him the numerous Captains and 
electrilied them with a short speech. He 
finished with the loud cry of '"Forward 
to light, and die foiTilierty, for work, for 
home, for La Commiiiic ! " and then, 
shaking hands with each officer, he raised 
hisswoi'd. All the other swords flashed 
in the air, an oath was taken, and the 
columns of men went wild with cheering. 

I'resentlv appeared members of the 
Commune legislative body, which seemed 
to have for that day sus|)ended its 
session for the express i)uri)ose of aiding 
in the process of electrifying the troops. 
One venerable member, witii long, flowing 
hair, made a liery address, rushed into 
the ranks, shook corporals and rank and 
file by the hands, seemed likely to fall 
upon their necks and weep, iiad he not 
been pressed for time. The linrden of 
every suliject was sacrifice of self for 
the great objects of freedom and the 
legal autonomy of Paris. At last the 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



451 



battalions marched away from tho barri- 
cades, and towards the Champs Elys(['es 
and the Porte Maillot. The soldiers, 
defiant with their glittering swords 
pressed tight against their riglitshoiilders, 
seemed capable of courage and disci- 
pline. Among them were men of all 
sizes : one officer was six feet high, the 
next one four feet ; but the eyes of each 
were alight with the same fire. 

On the 25th of April two hundred 
and seventeen victims had been carried 
out of the avenue leading to the gate of 
Les Ternes, and every day brougiit fresh 
slaughter. An armistice had been ap- 
pointed, then postponed, because the 
Commune had not succeeded in deciding 
upon its future war-measures, and the 
Versailles government had not a fresh 
number of troops to put to the front. 
Hundreds of thousands of men and 
women had gone out to the gates pre- 
pared for a ijilgrimage of cuiiosity to 
Neuilly during the cessation of hostili- 
ties, and now, turned back, they were 
muttering their discontent, and inspecting 
tiie great groups of statuarj' on the 
side of the Arc de Triomphe towards 
Neuilly, where i^hells had made great 
indentations and scratches. In the mid- 
dle of the grand group representing a war- 
rior defending his fireside was the scar 
of a shell, which had struck deeply in 
and nearly severed the head of the re- 
cumbent child from its body. Down at 
the gate thousands of wagons crammed 
with the furniture which had escaped 
bombardment choked the entrance. Hag- 
gard women and half-starved children 
cariying boxes on their backs wandered 
aimlessly about. At last an armistice 
was suddenly decided upon, and we all 
went out as far as it was possible to go, 
anxious to get some idea of the progress 
being made by our Iwsiegers, and so to 
judge of the probable length of the 



siege. I went out by the Porte Bineau, 
and was soon in the wilderness of semi- 
ruined streets, through which I at last 
came into the town of Neuilly, whence 
I could look back to the Maillot gate, a:id 
see the flames slowlj' rising from a burn- 
ing house, out of the cellars of which 
had just come a number of age<l old 
w(jn)en who had been lying concealed 
so long that they coidd scarcely see in 
the daylight, and tumbled over the 
smallest objects, trembling at the least 
noise. 

At Neuilly the tales of misery and 
destruction were quite thrilling. At one 
house the mistress had been rendered 
insane by the horrors of the boniliard- 
ment, and was so violent that she was 
confined in the cellar for ten days, and 
no one dared to approach her exceiit 
occasionally to throw her food. In the 
adjoining house a woman had died on 
the fourth day of the fight, and it was 
not until the tenth that the little funeral 
procession could pick its way among the 
skirmishes to the cemetery. Between 
two houses we saw half-a-dozen artillery 
horses in the last stage of putrefaction ; 
and as we came back there passed us in 
a cab all that was mortal of a man who 
had died in a cellar for lack of food two 
or three days before. In a house on the 
Avenue du Roule a horrible spectacle 
presented itself. There had been a fierce 
combat there a few days belbre, and four 
National Guards lay dead in a confused 
heap, their hands tightly clinched, and 
their faces blackened. One had lost both 
legs, and another an arm. The court- 
yard of the house was so strewn with 
ruins of tlie ceilings that I could not 
find any mark of the entrance of a shell. 
A woman in the throng of visitors 
found acollarof pearls in a porch, where 
a dead man was lying with his musket 
still loaded and his eves turned towards 



452 



EUROPE L\ STORM AXD CALM. 



the window, wiieiice doubtless came the 
shut that kiUed him. 

The C'ouHiiunist leaders, in communi- 
eatiiig details of the tighting, said tiiat 
the troiips of the line did not figlit 
furiously, hut that the iiciiihirnics and 
the old Iui[)erial |)oliee of Paris, who 
were embodied in the Versailles army, 
went into tiieir deadly work with au in- 
terest whieli was not feigned, and usually 
gave no (jnarter. 

Arriving at the lines of our Ijesiegeis, 
I found tile regular uniforms of the 
Freneh army, but very little of tradi- 
tional Freneh courtesy or grace. Those 
of us will) approachi'd the lines narrowly 
eseajjed arrest and eoutinement. A bar- 
ricade half-way up the avenue was Hanked 
witii dozens of cannon, and the artillery- 
men were all at theii' post. Tuij women 
arrived at the line and tried t(j pass ; 
tljeir house, fiom which they had tied at 
the beginning of the tight, was only a 
sliort distance away. The sentinel re- 
fused jjassage. They discussed, and he 
expostulated ; whereupon an otlieer 
stepped forward, took the gun from the 
sentinel's hands, forced the women back 
at the ])oint of the bayonet, and said, 
" That is the way you must talk to 
them." Onee an officer ordered a crowd 
of Parisians to move farther away or 
tiiey would receive a fusillade. The 
howls of indignation at this statement 
were (piite frantic, and the soldiers 
of the line, aithongli amjily protected 
liy the guns of their own liattcries, looked 
uneasy. 

One touching episode occurred during 
this day at Neuilly. Among the fragrant 
blossoms of the lilac bushes were the 
humble roofs of the Institution of the 
Holy Cross and the Hosiiital of Our Lady 
of the Seven Sorrows. Here, for tifteen 
days, in the back cellars, weak and dying 
children had iieeu confined, while the 



shells rent open the upper stories. The 
good Sisters of Cha rity came out, now that 
this armistice peiMuitled, and, lilinking 
in the unaccustomed light, hastened to re- 
movethe invalids to a safer place. Idiotic 
and scrofulous infants, blind and in- 
firm dwarfs, palsied and half-frenzied 
wretches of uncertain age, were placed 
in the vast furniture vans from Paris, 
and jolted away to the capital. More 
than one l)eclouded intellect, dimmed 
by suffering, imagined some dire mis- 
fortune in this removal, and protested 
energetically against it. Just as the 
wagons were about to depart a sister 
came running breathlessly to announce 
that the aged director of the hospital 
would not leave his post. He was eighty- 
four years old. and faintly nun'uiured in 
his cracked tones that he would die in tlie 
house that he had founded. But the old 
man, in spite of his devotion to duty, 
was carried away. Many of the Sisters 
of Charity objected to entering the capi- 
tal, because they did not wish to coun- 
tenance the Communal movement, which 
had dared to otfend Holy Church. 

The batteries of the Versailles troops 
were only two hundred yards from those 
of the Conuuune, and here the One 
Hundred and Fifteenth aud Forty-fifth 
line regiments were stationed. The 
armistice was announced to finish at 
five o'clock, and it vvas half-i)ast four 
before we had closed our tour of inspec- 
tion, and we were obliged to spur our 
horses merrily to regain the gates. The 
long, low, dark-gray walls of Paris, sur- 
rounded by their deep ditches, and the 
high-standing gate-ways, witii tlieir diffi- 
cult aiiproaches, looked verj' impressive, 
anil seemed almost impregnable. On 
the way back we noticed a thoroughly 
Gallic scene, — a j'onug man in the uni- 
form of the National (ruard was playing 
^•Mtiiirir pijiir la Putriv " n|)on a piano. 



EUROPE IN STORM AAW CALM. 



453 



which the frightened owner had jnst 
moved into the street. Around the mu- 
sician stood a chorus of soldiers, singing 
with stentorian voices the lugubrious re- 
frain. Jnst then began a panic, the 
Versailles troops probably firing blank 



discharges from their batteries to frigliten 
away the crowds. The singers instantlj' 
dispersed, and the owner of the piano 
had it pacliedon the backs of some stout 
men, and so it passed through the Porte 
Maillot. 



4.")4 



EUROPE L\ STORM AND CALM. 



CHAPTEIl FORTY-KIO [TT. 



Dombrow^ki in the Srnldlc. — The Foreign C'htet's of the Coinniuno. — ( leneral L'hiscret. Ills AiTcst. — 
T)elesehize. — A I-^c?;p:iirin;;^ Ilevohitioiiist. — Rosseh — Bcrj^cret. — Tlic Dcehmiatory l*ci-io(l. — The 
Combat at the Southern Forts. — A Hot Corner under Shell Fire. — The Women of the Commune. 



WITH D.nubrow.ski iu the s;i(l<lU' 
unci iiive.-4tecl with the uuthority 
of coramauiler of the arinios of the 
roiniiuiiie of Paris, tlio forwanl i)iov<'- 
iiii'iit of the Vorsailh/s forces I>eeauie 
more and more dillieiilt. Domlirow.si^i 
was one of tlie pietures(ine fionres of 
llie great insurrection, and risked his 
life freely in the cause for which he 
imifessed supreme devotion. He was 
a vi'uno- Polish adviMitiU'ci'. who hail 
been ailmitlcd in 1.S4S to the Cailet 
Corps in St. Pi'terslnn-g, and had stuil- 
iod at the scliool of tlie Russian o-en- 
eral staff. He liad seen some service 
in the Caucasus, and had l)een deco- 
rated by the Russian oov,.]|,iiient^ for 
his services there. P>ut while he was 
in garrison at Warsaw he became in- 
volved in a couspiiacy v,-hich |iii'ce(led 
the insiu'icM'tion of l.si.;:;. He vvas 
suspected, denounced, arrestee], and 
imprisoned for .■! year, and lay in the 
citadel as a prisoner while the wave 
of iusnrr<'ction swept all around ilim. 
He was seuti-uced to ileath, but his 
sentence was conunutcd to exile co 
Siberia. Henceforward his story w^as 
as romantic as that of a hero of melo- 
drama. On Mie way to Siberia he 
escaped, returnecl lioldly to St. Peters- 
burg, where lie was i-oncealed for a 
time; tlien went to Switzerland, (Jer- 
mauy, and China, arriving in Paris in 
1865. He was next heard of in tlie 
Austro-Prussian war, espoused the 



cause of Panslavism. and broke faith 
with many of his old I'olish friends. 
In 1^70 he lay iu [irison for a long 
time in Paris, under the accusatiou of 
foi'ging Russian bank-notes, luit he was 
acquitted of this charge, which was 
proliably the work of his [lolitieal ene- 
mies. During the Prussian siege he 
did good work for the French, and 
after the capitulation he drifted to- 
wards the Commune, and llmdly became 
a aiemlier of the famous Central Com- 
mittee. From that dignity to the po.si- 
tion of niilitaiy coramauder of Paris 
it was but a step for a bold and am- 
bitious man like Domlirowski. He had 
his lieail-iiuartcrs in the Place Yen- 
dome, where he was always surrounded 
liy a )-atlier heterogeneous staff of 
young and enthusiastic men, many of 
whom I am convinced had absolutely 
no sympathy widi the socialistic wing 
of the Commune, but who were filled 
with the faith that Paris, by winning 
back her municipal liberties, would save 
the Republic, and would raise up hun- 
dreds of thousands of allies throughout 
the country. To blame those generous 
and ardent men who willingly laid down 
their lives for the sake of principles 
which they believed thoroughly hon- 
oralile and [latriotic, would be unwise 
and unfair. There was more than one 
\\ho knew how to li\e through those 
iiiiu' weeks of the siege like a soldier 
and a gentleman, never condescending 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



455 



to any of the excesses in which the 
grosser s[)irits of the Comminie indulged ; 
and those were the men who perished 
on the l)arricades, or in close action 
during the seven days' light, disdaining 
subterfuges and disguises by which they 
might have saved their lives. 

Dombrowski replaced Bergeret, who 
had been much ridiculed for his vanity 
and assumption, and who, ou the whole, 
was a clever and conscientious worker 
in the cause which he thought right. 
His fatal mistake was made in the dis- 
astrous expedition against Versailles, 
where he got his men under the fire of 
Fort Valerien. During the fourteen days 
in which he was General-in-chief, he 
probal)ly made more mistakes tliau any 
military commander of modern times ; 
but of his zeal and his capacity as an 
executive officer, although he was of no 
use as a General, there was little doubt. 
When General Cluseret sent him to 
prison because he had refused to obey 
there was a great roar among the fol 
loweVs of Bergeret ; and he himself wrote 
on the walls of his cell this pro|>hecy, 
founded ou his satiric insight into the 
nature of the half-educated and sus- 
picious master with whom the Communal 
chiefs were dealing: "Cluseret, I am 
waiting for yon her(^" He did not have 
long to wait, not more than a fortnight ; 
for the 22d of April saw him at liberty, 
and Cluseret was soon in his place. The 
disgrace of Cluseret was decided upon 
the moment that the extremists of the 
Commune discovered his disapproval of 
their illiberal and oppressive measures. 
He even said of his friends, "They 
may shoot me, but they cannot make me 
work against my conscience." At the 
time that Fort Issy was announced as 
likely to fall into the hands of the Ver- 
sailles troops. General Cluseret had 
already been undermined on the pretext 



that he had compromised tiie situation 
by issuing decrees, which, although good 
in themselves, could not be carried out, 
and which engendered complaints from 
the officers of nearly fifty battalions. 
One officer, with whom I was personally 
acquainted, carried to the Executive Com- 
mittee of the Commune documents from 
forty-five battalions, decrying the Clu- 
seret regime, and demanding that the 
exacting General be displaced. The 
Communal journals did not hesitate to 
accuse him of neglect and incai)acity ; 
but most of tlie otlieers contented them- 
selves with criticising him as too ambi- 
tious. 

There was a story curi'cnt in the capi- 
tal, shortly after his arrest, that when 
the Communists were about to abandon 
the nearly ruined fort of Issy, and all 
had left save the one man who was to 
have fired the fuse which would have 
sprung a mine, Cluseret, with two hun- 
dred men, reoccupied the ramparts, and 
insisted on holding the position. It is 
certain that he never had any intention 
of delivering up the fort, as he appreci- 
ated how disastrous such a course would 
have been. I asked several officers who 
were directly concerned in his removal 
if there was any accusation of dishonesty 
against him, and received emphatically 
negative answers. Among the members 
of the Commune, however, there were 
those who said that he had offered to 
give up Paris for the sum of 8,000,000 
francs. These gossiping gentlemen 
had nothing on which to found these 
scandals except the great contempt 
which Cluseret usually manifested for 
them, and which, perhaps, led them to 
fancy that he was an enemy who had 
managed to get a position in their uiiilst. 
He never sat with the members of the 
Commune at the H6tel de Ville. When 
the two members of the Communal 



456 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



Comniittee came to announce the dis- 
satisfaction with him. and to hint at liis 
dei)osition, lie answered quietly that lie 
had for some time expected it. 

Deleschize, whowasthe delegate for war 
of the ephemeral Commuue, was a man 
of finer mould and of larger mind than 
most of his colleagues. Journalist, puli- 
licist. and conspirator under the Em|)ire ; 
cons|iirator again after the declaration 
of the Hepnl)lic, in 1870 ; imprisoned for 
the attempted insurrection of the 1st of 
October,— he was already a notalile figure 
at the beginning of theCommunal period. 
Like Cluseret and Rossel, — the unfortu- 
nate yc)nng soldier who preceded him in 
the direction of the Commune's military 
affairs, — Deleschize had a profound con- 
tempt for the druuken helots who aired 
their socialistic theories on every possi- 
ble occasion. While he was in favor of 
extremes, in the conduct of the conflict, 
he was perpetually afraid, lest by ex- 
cesses the Commune should alienate 
from itself what little sympathy Europe 
still felt for it ; and it is reported th;it 
when he iieard of the execution of the 
Archbishoi) and the other hostnges, his 
face became quite livid, a great sob of 
emotion rose in his throat, and he sank 
down in his seat, saying, " Wh.at a w\Tr ! 
But we also will shfiw that we know how 
to die." He was as good as his word, 
and died with a composure and liravery 
worthy of an ancient stoic. 

The appointment of Rossel as the 
successor of Cluseret was a kind of con- 
cession to Cluseret's views ;is to rigid 
discipline. The new delegate for war 
was but twenty-seven years of age, and 
had graduated from the School of Appli- 
cation of Metz only three or four years 
previousl}', coming out of that school 
with the grade of lieutenant. Rossel, 
son of a French soldier of merit, and an 
English mother, who had brought him u|i 



in the Trotestaut religion, was a pure- 
minded, austere, and vigorous young ofH- 
cer, who would have been certain, had 
he not stepped aside into the tlioiny 
paths of insurrection, of wiiming high 
honors, possibly a marshal's staff, in the 
Fiencli service. He was a keen writer 
already, a brilliant strategist, and at- 
tracted to himself no little notice in 18((9, 
when the last volume of the correspond- 
ence of Napoleon I. was jirinted, by 
demonstrating in a clever ariicle, pnli- 
lislied in the Tevijis, that the liooks on 
strategy attributed to Napoleon were not 
and could not possibly lunc been written 
liy him. At Metz, during the siege, 
Rossel was the determined enemy of Ba- 
zaine, whom he believed a traitor: nud 
his hostility was so vigorous that lie w:is 
imprisoned in one of the forts. But he 
esca|)ed before the capitulation and, dis- 
guised :is n peas.nnl, traversed the Ger- 
man lines, and got to Belgium ; then, 
after a brief visit to his mother, in Lon- 
don, hastened to Tours to iilaee himself 
at llie dis|>osal of the Government of 
National Defense. Gambetta knew and 
apiireri:iled Bossel, who was an a|)OStle 
of the doctrine that to treat for peace 
will) the (Germans was national dishonor. 
He went .straight into the ranks of 
the Connnnne as soon as the insurrec- 
tion liroke out, and wrote a plain letter 
to the JNIinister of War in which he said 
that he placed himself without hesita- 
tion in the ranks of those who had not 
signed peace, and who did not count 
among them Generals culpalile of capitu- 
lation. He was Cluseret's chief of staff 
for some time, and presided at the court- 
martial where citizens who refused to 
do military duty for the Comnume were 
judged with great severity. Like the 
others before him he was destined to 
waste his energy and to spend his eour- 
aire against the incurable negligence. 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



457 



lack of discipline, and jealousies which 
honey-combed theinsiirrectionarv forces ; 
and after having vainly endeavored to 
get together twelve or fifteen thousand 
men to lift the siege wliicii tlie Versaiilais 
had laid to Fort Issy, he gave up his 
office, ironically demanding at the close 
of his resignation the honor of a cell at 
Mazas. lie was taken at his word, raid 
a committee of public safety sent a 
guard to arrest him. But he succeeded 
in escaping from the custody of the 
ferocious committee and enticed his guar- 
dian to accompany him; and it was not 
until the close of the seven days' figlit 
that he was found by the government 
troops and taken with the rest of the mol) 
to Versailles. No fairer and more prom- 
ising young life was sacrificed at the 
posts of execution on the bloody field 
of Satorv than that of Rossel. His 
broken career has a pathetic interest for 
all who admire even the first indications 
of military genius. Rossel fell into 
the trap which was fatal to so many 
noble and gifted men. Me believed that 
the Communal effort was practicable, 
that it was honest, and that there was 
really need for combating I he govern- 
ment which had installed itself at Ver- 
sailles, and which, as he and so many 
others thought, would reestablish a Mon- 
archy rather than declare a Repul)lic. 

Bergeret, Cluseret, Rossel, Deles- 
cltize, Dombi'owski and his Poles, La 
Cecilia, and a few showy officers, — 
these were the men who were expected 
by the incompetent and intolerant "Cen- 
tial Committee " of the Commune to or- 
ganize, with the rebellious National 
Guard, the permanent defense of Paris 
against a comiiact and angry array as- 
sembled at Veisailles under the com- 
mand of Marshal MacMahon, with such 
men as Ladmirault, De Cissey, La 
Cretclle, Vinoy, Donay, and Clinchaut. 



It is wonderful, when one looks back 
\\\)on the resistance of the Comnnnie, 
and the harum-scarum fashion in 
which it was conducted, despite the in- 
disputable taleut occasionally shown in 
it, that it should have endured so long 
as it did. Li the train of Dombrovvski 
was a group of four young men named 
Okolowicz, born in France, of Polish 
parents, and all energetic and capable 
officers. 

During the last half of April the 
Commune was in its declamatory period. 
It issued its famous declaration to the 
Fiench people, in which it claimed that 
the Commune had the right to form and 
determine the aspirations and the voice 
of the populations of Paris ; that at this 
time, as on so many previous occasions, 
Paris was toiling and suffering for the 
whole of France, and preparing, liy her 
combats and sacrifices, the intellectual, 
moral, ndn.inistrative, and economical 
regeneration of the nation. The Com- 
munists denied that Paris was seeking 
the destruction of French uuiiy, but that 
it wanted political unit\', the voluntary 
association of all, local initiative, the 
free and spontaneous cooi>eration of all 
individual energies with the common 
object of the well-being, liberty, and 
security of all. The Communal Revo- 
lution inaugurated a new era in politics ; 
was the end of the old official and cleri- 
cal world, of military supremacy and 
bureaucracy, of jobbing in monopolies 
and privileges, to which the proletariat 
owed its slavery and the country its mis- 
fortunes. " As for ourselves, citizens 
of Paris," the proclamation concluded, 
" we have a mission to ac<'omi)lish, a 
modern revolution, the greatest and most 
fruitful of all which have illuminated 



To this Versailles replied with a cry 
of scorn and indignation, and with the 



45.S 



EUROPE IX STOinr AM) CALM. 



stern nnnouncenn'iit tlint no parley ooiild 
be held with reliels and deserters. " Tlic 
movement \vhieii has broken forth in 
Paris." said tile Versailles proclamation, 
" has in it no coherent idea. It is born 
of a sterile liatred against social order. 
It has the fury of destrnction for the 
sake of desti-netion, a certain savage 
spirit, tlic gratification of a desire to 
live without restraint and without law. 
The word • Comnuine ' signifies noth- 
ing else. It is only the expression of 
ill-regulated instincts, refractory pas- 
sions, wiiicli fall upon the secular com- 
munity of France as upon an olistacle 
to their accom|)lishment." 

There is as much exaggeration in tlie 
statement of \'ersailles as in the state- 
ment of Paris. It is, perhaps, the exact 
truth to say that the Cummune arose out 
of a mutual misunderstanding. Tliat 
the men who originally rallied to the 
movement were actuated by base motives 
is untrue. The CVmimune began as an 
honoralile although a misguided protest 
against king.ship, and against the usurjia- 
tion of autliorityover the city liy the State. 
It gravitated si)eedily to the condition 
of a vast and dangerous ri<.it, nowhere 
directed or contrcilled liy a master hand. 
Then crept in the serpent of socialism, 
the demons of drunlvenness, lust, and 
revenge; and all the tine theories anil 
nolde aims of the original protestei-s, 
the exti-emists, who, like Delescluze 
and jSIilliere and Flourens, had been 
watching for more than a year for an 
occasion to taki' p<jwer into tlieir own 
hands, were swept away in the lilack 
smoke of the flames which linriieil the 
Tuilei-ies and the Hotel de Villi'. 

With tlie tirst days of May tlie comliat 
at the soutliern forts had l)een daily in- 
creasing in vigor. The diapason of the 
guns sometimes thrilled the whole city. 
With early May had come the waiiii. 



sweet south wind, more suggestive of 
Ilyi^res and Genoa than of northern 
Paris ; but on this wind each morning 
were boi'ue the echoes of the booming 
cannon. From Trocadero, or from the 
Point du Jour, on the circular railway, we 
could see fierce comltats engaged in be- 
tween the three forts standing out in 
l)i)ld relief, and the Versailles batteries 
so high above them that the gunners had 
little trouble in dropping their shells into 
the fortilications. 

Those of the National Guards who 
kept up their discii)line seemed inclined 
to sell their lives dearly. They had 
twice besieged Fort Is.sy and inflicted 
heavy losses on the Versailles troops. 
Everv step, every successive line of 
trenches, might lie said to have been 
traced in lilood. Hand-to-hand combats 
were frequent. They grew out of the 
reconnaissances which sergeants of coui- 
(lanies on either side were constantly 
making, and which often brought on a 
general action. Both armies had trenches 
in front of Issy, positions \vhi<h were 
very hazardous. Now and then the Fed- 
erals, as the Communists were always 
called, would sally forth, and at great 
loss attempt to dislodge the Versailles 
troops, amply coveied liy their batteries. 
On one occasion the National (iuards. 
unable to remain quiet under the terrible 
rain of shells from the batteries sur- 
rounding Issy, sallied out towards the 
rlitlteiin of the same name, and, assisted 
by a feel)le Are from the 1 tattered for- 
tress, chased, atthepointof the bayonet, 
the Thirty-fifth and Forty-second line 
regiments, but left the ground strewn 
witli their dead. But when the (ii-e from 
tlu' fort failed, the line regiments re- 
turned to the charge, and in the niNSe 
which ensued took three hundred of the 
National Guards prisoners, and killed 
most of them in the excitement of the 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



459 



prise. Amoug those tiiken manj- wci'p 
clad ill the uniform of the I'cguhir army, 
and those gentlemen passed out of life 
at the end of a Versailles gun-liarrel. 

On this same day the C'lamart rail- 
way station — an important position for 
the besiegers of Issy 
— was carried by as- 
sault by the Ver- 
saillais. This was 



making about throe inindred prisoners. 
A Versailles paper aliout this time an- 
nounced that it was probable that the 
garrison of the Fort Issy would be ac- 
corded no quarter when it fell into the 
hands of the regular troops. 

While this combat was in progress at 
Fort Issy, I was visiting the right wing 
of the insurgents' line of defense, where 

nie of the heaviest fighting took place 
for a fortnight after the taking of 
Asniferes by the Versaillais. A storm of 
shot and shell was hurled at them from 
Levallois, a little town only a short dis- 
tance from the walls of Paris. 
In Levallois the commamlant 
of this section had his head- 




TERKACE OF MEUDON OCCUrlED BV VERSAILLES TROOl'S. 



early in the morning, before sunrise, and 
was intended for a surprise ; but the 
commander found the insurrectionists as 
vigilant as himself. The Twenty-second 
batt.ilion of Chasseurs-d,-2jied, although 
subjected to great loss, drove out the 
National Guards, inflicting on them a 
loss of two hundred and sixty, and 



quarters ; and here, also, was the Gen- 
eral Okolowiez, one of the brothers 
mentioned elsewhere. At this head- 
(luarters I found an aide-de-camp of 
(ieneral Dombrowski, who had been 
detailed to command at this end of the 
line. He was a fair type of many of the 
defenders in the service of the Commune, 



ACA) EriWPE IN STOHM AND CALM. 

a liniulsomo, ntlilctie Polo, once nierclKUit liiniself to liis map, foiiml mit wiiei'i' said 

(if aitifieial riowers on Ukj boiiU'vard. Imt house was, and gave the iiuimers instriic- 

since tlie viots of 1870 inlerosteil in lions to burn it. 'Die Coinninnists had 

politics. lie had fled some years before been nsiuL!; petroleum bombs for some 

from Kus.sia, where he had been com- time, but had not found them very snc- 

pelled to sei've in the army, had fought cessful. They claimed that the Versailles 

eighteen mouths in the I'olish insurrec- batteries had, by means of these bombs, 

tion, and iiad si)ent two years in an set numerous houses near the Ternes 

Austrian jirison as a convict, with a ball gate of Paris on fire. But the most in- 

and chain attached lo one of his legs, telligeiit of the staff-ofHcers assured me 

He was a brave soldier and a rapid and that iu experimenting on a small house 

decisive thinker. The Commandant of across the river, he t)!)served that it was 

the place looked more like a stalwart only afier the nineteenth shell had been 

backwoodsman from JManitoba than Hive thrown that the coutlagration was 

a Frenchman. lie was six feet two. starteil. All tlie oHicers at this point 

wore superb florid mustaches and were badly mounted, and few were 

beard, and had ;i hearty, unaffected decently e(|ui|)ped. Their complete faith 

manner which was quite winning. The in then- liual success was quile pathetic, 

head-quarters was a small stone house. They all estimated the Versailles forces 

quite within the fire-line, so that shells as much smaller than their own. The 

came coustautlv screaming above it. or i-iiiiuiiiiinhnit ilc placp at this point told 

falling "ith ominous crash close beside me he tlKiught the safety of the C'oni- 

it. Here the Commandant had with him nunie dejicuded on the reorganization of 

his wife and child. — the wife a uolile- the N.-itioual (Hiard. 

looking woman, who satcalndy when the Among the most impri'ssive examples 

shriek of the shells was plainly heard, of devotion which I saw at Levallois 

and who. |icrhaps, had jierfect faiih in was that of a young peasant wonian of 

her husband's jesting assertion that the twenty-two or tw-enty-three. who had 

house was ironclad. Every few mo- been night and day attending to the 

ments the door of this house was swung wounded on the river line at imminent 

open liv some soldier or nnder-ollicer, risk of her own life As she came in to 

who came to report or conqilain. EveiT head-quarters all the oflicers lose :ind 

halt-hour a liattaliou arrived in front of greeted her with stately courtesy. She 

the house, coming cheerily up from its was faint with Imuger and exposure. 

l)ost at some other point on the line, the and. when she sat down lieside the Com- 

men singing the Marseillaise and other mandant"s wife, grew dizzy and tiu'ned 

revolutionary songs. (|nite pale. She was well caied for. 

The Connriandant invitdl me to break- and the conuuandant himself coukeil her 

fast, and just as we were trying for the breakfast. For two weeks, the oflicer 

fourth or fifth time to sit down to table, said, she had found time to eat oidy one 

tw'o gigantic artillery-men, grimy witli nu^al a day ; and it is only when she is 

powder and smoke, liurst into the room, starved out, said one, that she I'omes 

'• Commandant," said the grimier of the uii to head-quartei's. She gently dis- 

two, " we see men on the top of a house claimed all honor for her tidt'lity. ■• I 

just across the river, and they are spy- am not the only one willing to hel|i," 

iiii;- us out." The commandant betoolc she said. "There are fifty of us iu 



El'tiOrK IN STORM AND CALM. 



4(31 



all, and we dou't mind a little rough- cry raised hy tlie Commnnists that they 
ino- it." had been fired on liy the citizens in 

From this time forward the days were Paris. I heard one artillery-man say so 
full of alarms. On the Sunday evening to his officer, who at once gave orders to 
after my visit to Levallois the spectacle destroy any house whence a shot siioukl 
of the bombardment was grand beyond come. 

description. The fire way from the The Commune was not happy in its 
batteries at Point du Jour could lie external relations, which were of course 
seen, — a fire line flashing death and 
destruction at the southern forts and 
at the gate of the Ternes. The bombs 
fell like hail ; one conflagration lit up the 
whole section of Paris liehind the Tri- 
nniplial Arch, and so 
increased in intensity 
that the spectators 
at a distance fancied 
the regular troops 
had entered and were 
firing the deserted 
quarters. The Com- 
munist soldiers ran 
howling through the 
streets, anxious to 
report themsel v e s , 
almost despite or- 
ders, at the scene of 
the struggle. One 
brave I remember 
distinctly. He had 
partaken somewhat 
copiously of the juice 
of the graiie, and as 
he made his way 
through the dense 
crowds would stop 

from time to time to invoke an iraagi- mainly with the Prussians, and in whicii 
nary person, whom he fancied was ex- IM. Pascal Grousset, quondam journal- 
postulating against his departuie for the ist, played a piominent part. Each 
scene of battle. "But it is my duty to time a communication was made to the 
go," be would cry ; and at last lie Prussian commander by an individual 
tumbled quite helpless into a ditt'h by with a red scarf over his shoulder, the 
the curb, and, supinely heroic, listened individual was severely snubljed. The 
with drunken gravity to the cannonading. Connnune had a singular confidence in 
One formidable feature of this alarm the forbearance of the Germans, and 
ou Sunday night in question was tiie from the first prophesied that they 




COMMUNIST FUNKU.\L AT NIUHT. 



4(;2 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



would not attempt to assist the army at 
Versailles even were Tliiers driven to 
extremes. 

In those days it beearae evident that 
an attempt would be made at a great 
culminating catastrophe sliould the Com- 
mune lose its battles and either the 
troops of the government or of Germany 
attempt to enter tlie city. Ail the 
houses in tlie vicinity of the barricades 
of defense inside the capital had tlieir 
windows pasted over with tlie long slips of 
paper used tolieei> tlie glass from break- 
ing wlien a great exi)losion is expected. 
It was reported tliat certain sewers had 
powder trains lain in them, and the 
leaders of the Commune had sworn to 
lildw these sewers up rather than to 



yield their positions. As to surrender, 
they laughed such an idea to scorn. 
" What ! " said a Frencii officer, who was 
one of Dombrowski's stat!', when I asked 
him if surrender might not be the end. 
"Surrender? Never! 1 am sentenced 
to death twice. 1 can die only once, 
and I will sacrifice all the lives neces- 
sary to preserve my own and to make 
the movement succeed. This uniform," 
and he jiointed to the dress of a line 
officer, which he still wore, — " tliis uni- 
form condemns me to death, and I will 
not be caught, — and I will not run awa_y 
either." 

Saying this, he tossed off a glass of 
cham|)agne, in which lu' toasted the suc- 
cess of the Commune. 



EUliOl'E IN STORM AND CALM. 



463 



CHAPTER FORTY-NINE. 



The Commune Suppresses the Conservative Journals. — Insincere Professions of Liberalism. — Tlic Pore 
Duchesne. — The Unroofinfr of M. Tliiers's Ilonsc. — The Communistic Ideal of Society. — 
Invasion of the Convents. — Reminiscences of Auber the Composer. Ills r)oatIi. — The Fall of the 
VenihJme Column. — The Communists Rejoice over the Wreck of Imperial Splendor. — Jlcusiues 
a":ainst Social Vices. 



rpiIE world lost 
-L er;il nrofessii 



st eonfideucG in the lib- 
l)i'otessions of the Commune. 
As soon as the two mad metisures of 
suppressiou of all the conservative 
journals in Paris and the absolute nega- 
tion of the liberty of conseienco were 
enforced, the Communists undertook to 
invest with a certain justice even the 
most illiberal of their decrees, and in 
suppressing half-a-dozen leading news- 
papers towards the middle of April, it 
announced that this was done because it 
was impossible to tolerate in besieged 
Paris journals which openly- advocated 
civil VIM and which gave military infor- 
mation to the enemy, as well as propa- 
gated calumny against the defenders of 
the Republic. There is an amusing per- 
version of the truth in this statement, 
and a coolness in the remarks about 
civil war which has rarely been equalled 
in degree. That the Communists thought 
they were defenders of the Repulilic may 
be true, but that they were ignorant that 
they themselves had provoked the civil 
war which they appeared to deplore, 
cannot be credited. 

With the suspension of all the con- 
servtitive journals with the excei)tion of 
the Slide and the Verite, the sensational 
journals had full scope for their pe- 
culiar verbosity. Paris Free and the 
Commune were the two noteworthy 
[lapers which were most sought for by 
the adherents of the Commune. The 



former paper devoted a great part of its 
space to printing lists of the political 
spies who had been employed under the 
second Empire ; and it is not very flat- 
tering to the French character to note 
that great numbers of denunciations 
appeared in these ijapers, and were evi- 
dently forwarded to the editor in the 
hoi)e that under the excei)tional circum- 
stances acts of ]3rivate vengeance might 
be consummated. The printing of the 
alphabetical list of the spies was a line 
stroke of the vindictive Communists. 
Naturally, the chief of the political 
police under the Enniire had kept every 
letter of application for the degrading 
positions ; and these letters, now brought 
to light, condemned to obloquy many a 
man and woman who had before been 
counted respectable. The applicants 
were usually people in reduced circum- 
stances, ladies and gentlemen who had 
no resources and few hopes of any ; 
and in most cases persons whose ante- 
cedents were not entirely satisfactory. 
The joinnal called the Commune en- 
lightened us with the history of the 
Black Cabinet in the Post Oflice, where 
the Imperial spies used to keep them- 
selves informed by oiiening private cor- 
respondence of all communications be- 
tween important persons, when they 
thought it necessary. The Communal 
goverumentalsogotont, atgreat expense, 
all the correspondence of the government 



4()4 ' ECROl'E IX STORM AXD CALM. 

of till' •' Fourth of St'ptcmlicr,"' ;is it was M. liochcfdrt's [laper seeiiu'il to have 
callcil ; ami the weekly instalmeiUs, sold di'opped entirely out of notice. The dis- 
fiir a sou each, had an enormous eircnla- n'nstin;.i' little I'Piv Diicltcsiic, filled with 
tion. 'I'liis, with the |iulilieation of the filthy and nn((notable comments on the 
corres[iondence of the Imperial family, political situation, hatl a circnhition of 
i>ave those of the Communists who had ninety thousand copies daily. This jour- 
any leisure plenty of I'eailinj;'. The nal was entirely written by one man, who 
Estiifctti' was the title of a newsi)aper pocketed al)out;'),(iO()fiancsof clear profit 
which had an immense circulation among daily. None of the I'aiisian jt)Uiuals 
till' lower classes. It was a half-sheet, were allowed liy the Comnumists to pass 
retailed for a sou, with spaces between the fortifications ; persons carrying them 
its spicy paragraiihs tilled with readily w-ere arrested, and were likely to be thrust 
cxecute(l caricatures of the men of the into a filthy jail, where they might have, 
moment. The only comic journal which as in the old Revolution, been confounded 
flourished under the Commune was with the mass of the condemned and been 
the (rrclot, which visited upon lioth sent oft' to l)e shot. The odicial journal, 
contending parties its satiric criticism, which the Commune thought it necessary 
!n one of the numbers 'SI. Thiers, attired to have in imitation of previous govern- 
as an old lady, was furiously ajiostro- ments, contained nothing remarkable 
phiziug a tiny child labelled I'aris. save the Communal decrees, devoted to 
Mamau Tliiers : •• AVhat in the name of upsetting everything that existed, and a 
Heaven do you want?"' Little I'aris: most singular /('"///e^o/i, in which a North 
" I want the moon." And Little I'aris American Indian did a vast amount of 
was depicted as regai'ding the reflection scalping, and declaimed in the fashion 
of the moon in a pail of water. of the Revolutionary orators of the time 

This was looked on as a ^'ersailles of Dantou and Robespierre, 
view of the situation : and tlii' Commu- Communist papers each had their an- 
nists doul.itless notifie<l the editor of the eedote of Dombi'owski's liraverj'. One 
(inlnt that he would l>e under surveil- day. while making his way towards Iss\', 
lance. In another caricature in the same we were told, and being accompanied 
journal Citizen Courbet, the celebrated b\' only fourteen men, he suddenly heard 
painter, was represented as holding a the Qui vin> of a Versailles sentinel. 
/eri'c, at which all the lu'onze statues of His men turned pale with fright, and so 
Paris were in attendance, having come faltered that they were all taken pris- 
down from their respective pedestals to oners. lint Domlirowski l)oldly ad- 
beg him to save them. Courliet was also vanced, and sai<L ■• N'ersailles ; " and 
depicted as having already taken nn- when i-eipiired to give the countersign 
der his protection the N'eudome column, he rushed u|iou the sentinel, made him a 
Another comic journal of lesser im|ior- prisoner, dealing him a violent Ijlow over 
tauce depicted ^L Thiers as an owl sitting his head with his own gun, and brought 
(|nietlyou a. tree lal)elled ■• Restijrafion." tiini away before the little liaud of rhas- 
A flood of light from the rising sun of ttt'iirs. lying near at hautl, diseoveivd 
the Coranuuie was poured ufxin theov\rs that they might have cai>tured the leader 
face, and F|-anee. a rosy young woman, of the Connnuuists' mili'ary forces. The 
w;is looking at the bird and making scoi'u- truth was that Dombiijwski had been 
ful remarks. spared by shot and shell in places where 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



465 



it seemed that no liviii"- ni:\n could coii- 
tiiuie to exist. His soldiers imagined 
liini possessed of a cliarnied life. All 
the rolish oflieers depended nuieh upon 
the Freneli love of entrain for success. 
General Okolowicz never went into a 
dangerous place without ci'yiiig to his 
men, " Who loves me follows me ; " and 
wherever his voice was heard there were 
men to respond to his call. 

The unroofing of M. Thiers's mansion 
in the Place 8t. Georges, in obedience 
to the spiteful decree of the Commune, 
was one of the silliest episodes of the 
great insurrection. The slouching sol- 
diers who were engaged in it were half 
ashamed of the work, and one or two of 
them said so to those of us who went 
to wMtness the operation. The razing of 
t!ie house to the ground was never com- 
pleted ; and M. Thiers probably con- 
sidered himself am|)ly revenged upon 
liochefort, — a chance remark by whom 
in the Marseillaise was the origin of this 
Communal measure, — when he saw the 
poi)ular pamphleteer arrested at Meanx, 
dragged through the military prisons, 
and, after a hasty trial, sent off across 
the seas to the other end of the world. 

If it be true tliat the first impulse was 
given to the insurrection by the mys- 
terious International Society, it is not 
strange that one of tiie first blows struck 
by the triiunphant faction was at the 
estalilished Church. But, whatever in- 
telligence may have prevailed when the 
first measures were dictated, the suc- 
ceeding ones were characterized b^- noth- 
ing save a blind fury. Hundreds of 
thousands of the working people of the 
capital were, and still are, rebellious 
against the authority of the Church ; and 
it is no exaggeration to say that scores 
of thousands utterly repel the doctrines 
of Catholicism and profess a kind of 
materialism which they would be puzzled 



to define. They had a vague remem- 
brance of the persecution of the Church in 
tlie old Revolution, and the confiscation 
of the fat lands lielonging to abbeys and 
monasteries. They recognized, with 
the unerring instinct of the people, that 
the Church was one of the strongest 
pillars of monarchy ; and they directed 
against it all the energy of their hatred. 
They closed twenty-si.x of the principal 
chinx'hes of Pai'is within a fortnight, and 
put the seals of tiie Commune upon their 
doors. Some of these churches were 
reopened for the meetings of Commu- 
nistic clubs, as all popular assemblies 
were called. The priests who dared to 
jjrotest were imprisoned, and the spolia- 
tion of some of the religious edifices 
was boldly undertaken. The academi- 
cian Maxime Ducami), whose account of 
the Commune is not entirely to be relied 
n[)0u, because he reiiresents the most 
violent and prejudiced section of the 
bourgeoisie, or middle class, nevertheless 
has a fine faculty for putting his finger 
upon the weak points of the Commune, 
lie says, in his criticisms on the attempts 
against liberty of conscience in the in- 
surrection : '"Those men who neither 
knew how to write out a passpoit or a 
simple order, without asking for advice, 
needed no counsel when it came to at- 
tacking the Church. There they had 
notliing to do bat to overturn, and the3' 
excelled at this work. To close churches 
to worship, and to open them to the 
clubs, to despoil them, and to imprison 
priests, and to shoot them, — tliis was 
all very easy. It was a persecution 
which made its martyrs. It is impos- 
sible even to-day to imagine in the name 
of what liberty this was done, because 
among the Communists one could find 
trace of no philosophy whatsoever. They 
proclaimed themselves Materialists and 
Atheists, without understanding what 



4IjG EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 

those two terms meant. They had terialism. We may clraw this conchision 
neither doetriue nor tlieory. Like tamed from the fact that Koliespierre, mnch ad- 
parrots, tlie3' said over and over again mired as a director of llie guillotine by 
words the sense of whicli they knew noth- many memliei's of the Commune, was at 
injT about. Their incoherence was such the same time blamed and despised, be- 
Ihat tliey were in permanent contradie- cause he had, as they said, invented a 
tion to themselves, and did not know it. Supreme Being. The government would 
A moment ))efore hi.s death Theophile willingly, imitating Anacharsis Clootz, 
Ycn(^ wrote to his sister : ' Let it be well liave declared themselves the personal 
understood, — no religious ceremony. I enemies of Jesus Christ, whose reiiuta- 
die a i\Literialist, as I have lived.' Then tion Jules Valles had declared was cu- 
be added :' Place a crown of immortelles tirely overrated. Thus it is easy to see 
ui>iin the toml) of our mother.' Tiiey that every violent measure against the 
were all like this. They repudiated the elergy was adopted without tliscussion at 
belief. l)Ut they preserved the emblem of the IlOtel de ViUe." 
it. They called theuiselves partisans The Counnnuists carried their denial 
of I'lpialitv, lilierty, and fraternity. This of the liberty of eouscience so far liiat 
was their device. They inscribed it as tliey took pains to (irevent the chiliben 
the i)rotocol of their otlicial aets, on from attending church, and would not 
their tlags, on the walls. e\eu let the burial-service be read over 

'• They did not understand tiiat it was tlu' dead. One day in April the old 
bv Christianity alone tliat the peoples lie- ehurch iu the Rue St. Jacques was iu- 
came free and the masters of their own vaded by the Federals. Sentinels were 
destiny. To supi)ress future life, and the stationed at the ihjors ; the few kneeling 
belief in the rewaril promised to courage, worshipiiers were informed that they 
sacrifice, and virtue, is to bring man must arise and dei)arl, or it would be 
to a condition in whirh he takes no the worse for them. The priests in the 
heed for his soul, and seeks here below sacristy were visited by two of the dele- 
only iunnediate enjoyment. If we add gates of the Counuuiu.', wlio said they 
to this the theory ol' Darwin, of which li:id come to make a requisition. .lust 
the Counnuuists had relained only the at that time a funeral i)rocessiou aii'ived 
dangerous part, we arrive fatally at the and stop|ied iu front of the church. The 
struggle for existence, which is a (lerma- mourners and friends entered to attend 
nent insnrreetiou, and at the theory of the mass which had been ajipoiuted for 
selection, which leads straight to des- that hour. The sentiuels iuloi-med fhem 
potism. that they could not pass, and, as they 

"TheConnnune. perhaps without know- found this very strange, the comuiauding 

iuij; it, reallv wished to formulate its ideal ollieei' said, "All that is out of fashion 

of society aecordingto tliese princi[)les, — now. Clear out with yotn- deail man and 

a state of things which would have nnicli take him to the cenu'tery ! That is the 

resembled a retui'u to primitive bar- best thing you (■•■in ilo, — by far more de- 

l)arism. I>\' the ap|ilicatiou of sueh cent than to ha\e hiui sprinkled with a 

ideas we get back to the stone age. The lot of <lirty water by tlie priests." 

C<innuune perished too soi.m to unveil or 'J'lie invasion of the convents and the 

]irecise its philosophical system, wliieli search for com(iromisiug documents and 

would have been of a iinreh' animal ma- evidence of the crimes which the lower 



EVROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



4(37 



classes have alwajs believed were com- 
mitted in the mysterious reli<;ious edifices, 
attracted great attention from all who 
were in Paris during tlie insurrection. 
In the Pic])us, a celebrated religious in- 
stitution in the Faubourg St. Antoine, the 
Communal searchers announced one day 
that they had found something very 
horrifying. They came to one cell, 
which the terrified nun who was c(jm- 
pelled to serve them as guide refused to 
open ; so they forced an entrance, and 
there found in a narrow dungeon three 
nuns, who had been imprisoned for nine 
years. Neither of the three women had 
sense enough to understand that deliver- 
ance was at hand, but each seemed dimly 
to realize that something strange iuid 
happened. None of them could explain 
why they had been imprisoned. In tlie 
cellars of this convent tlie Communists 
dug up the earth, and announced that 
they there found many sUeletons and 
bones of children. This statement was 
naturally denied with much warmth by 
all the Catholic population ; whereupon 
the Commune announced that it would 
place the testimony of its delegates with- 
out doubt, and opened an inquest on the 
subject, which was swallowed up in the 
absorbing excitement of the greater 
events when the regular troops entered. 
In these dangerous and disturbed days 
of the early part of May one sometimes 
saw walking tranquilly on the boulevaril, 
as if there had been no interruption to 
his daily habits or the serenity of his 
intellectual life, the venerable composer 
Auber, the "youug old" man, as he was 
called by his compatriots, who persisted 
in giving him a reputation which jios- 
terity perhaps will refuse to accord him. 
Auber was of that race of Parisians 
which leads an active and vigorous life 
long after the allotted age of threescore 
and ten has been reached ; and in bis 



eighty-eighth and eighty-ninth year he 
was as fresh and a[)p:irently as untram- 
melled liy the ordinary infirmities of age 
as a man of sixty. lie was usually 
siuTounded by a bevv of charming yoimg 
women, who delighted in offering him 
[jublic profession of their admiration ; 
and he accepted these delicate feminine 
offices, the presentation of bouquets, and 
pretty compliments, with a grave and 
stately courtesy, which belonged to the 
elder school, and of which the new gen- 
eration has scarcely preserved a trace. 
He was a gieat favorite under the 
Empire, both with the government and 
the people ; and I remember to have 
seen him standing hand in hand with 
Rossini, on the occasion of a gre:it con- 
cert given at the Palais de I'lndustrie, 
receiving for more than twenty minutes 
a tremendous ovation. Wreaths, crowns, 
and flowers were showered about the 
two composers who had coutiibuted so 
much to the intellectual enjoyment of 
the world. Th.e hundreds of musicians 
applauded as enthusiastically as did the 
twenty-five thousand persons in the audi- 
ence. I question if there was ever a 
greater popular reception accorded to a 
musician. Auber had once been strik- 
ingly handsome. His face, which was 
very pale ; his deep-set eyes, which still 
retained a bit of their quondam sparkle ; 
his white hair, and his dignity of man- 
ner, — made a pleasant and a striking im- 
pression. Persons who saw him in the 
lobby of the Op(!:ra Comique, which is a 
kind of temple to his talent, for we can 
scarcely accord him genius, would turn 
and inquire who he was. The old man 
who had had such a long and pleasant ta- 
reer died after an illness of a d:iy or two, 
in his mansion in the Rue St. Georges, and 
scarcely any public notice was taken of 
his funeral, for most of his friends were 
absent, and the general public had other 



4(;.S EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 

tliiiin's lluui inusic and the )iienii>rii.'s of Conimuiio for the tnkiiig down of the 
its comiiosiT to engage thi'ii- attention. C'olunni than engineers asserted tliat its 
0\w of tlie illogical notions of tlie fall would shake the foundations of the 
C'omnnnie was that in the event of its most solid honses in the neighborhood ; 
success, it wiiuhl he able to promote and all the stupid shopkeepers for a mile 
general and lasting peace throughout arouud i)ai)ered their huge glass windows 
Europe ; and early iu its ephemeral reign with long strips of thick brown paper 
it decreed that the erection of the ^'en- to deaden the results of the concussion, 
dome Column had lieen an insult to Many people urged that only the statue 
sisler nations, and should lie atoned for of Napoleon in his C'a'sarie robes should 
by the destruction of this memorial of be removed. The Commune had, how- 
military glor^'. Speakers at meetings ever, made its contract with an able and 
during the siege had often hiuted at the ingenious engineer, who, for the sinii of 
destruction of the Column, saying that ;);i,00() francs, was to lay the monument 
the Frcr.ch nation had no interests save low before a certain day, agreeing to pay a 
those strictly allied with (leace, and, forfeit of l!0(l francs for each day's delay, 
theri fore, should not maintain a standing The Colunni, wliicii was erected in imita- 
menacc and memento of triumi)h. IMany tion of the Antonine Column, at Rome, 
a Frenchman who had no sympathy with was liegun iu 180C, one year after Na- 
tlie ideas of the Connnune had |)enued a poleon"s greatest cami)aign ; and the 
philippic against thegreatbronzecolumn. military adniiuistration placed twelve 
Augnste liarbier was not a great poet, hundred captured cannon at the disi)osi- 
but he was a very good one, and when he tion of the architects. This enormous 
wrote his indictment against the Idol, as weight of bronze, amounting to one 
he called the Column, he created a pro- million eight hundred thousand pounds, 
found impression. lie aw<.>ke an echo was cast into plates, carved in bas-reliefs 
which the ISonaparlist family would have representing the exploits of the Imperial 
much preferred to leave sleeping. Victor campaign. Each plate was three feet 
Hugo had also (anscd the gigantic eight inches high, aud was separated 
"Monument to nunder '" in verse none from the one above it by a band, on 
the less elocpient because filled witli which were iuscril)ed the names and 
malice and political venom. l!arbi<'r dates of the various engagements. The 
wrote a magniliccnl .-illegdi-y. in which lie pedestal, cstablishnl on the site of the 
described Na])i:leon as spurring the still more famous one on which stood 
French peoi)le to exhaustion, yet de- the bronze equestrian statue of Louis 
nianding that they should goon, anil for- Xl\'., was thirty fci't high, and the 
ever on. His descriiition of the entry of column itself rose to the height of one 
the Allies into Faris, in l.sl 1, and the hundred and eighteen feet. The eagles 
manner in which the Ficni-li people, upon the pedestal weie very artistically 
which had been mastered liy Napoleon 1.. carved, and each weighed five hundred 
had been compelled to liumlile itself pounds. The effigy of Bonaparte, placed 
before the rude n.ntheni men and the on high, came down twii-e in successive 
warriors of middle l-an-ope. excelled in generations; and now tiie third was to 
simiile eloiiuence and [latlios any of the fall. On tlu' side facing the Tuilories 
protests against tlie Second Empire. Gardens, and just under the dome on 
No sooner was the day set by the which the Ciesar-Emperor was mounted, 



EVKOVE /X STOllM AM) CALM. 



4(!;t 



was this iuscription, '-This niomiiiu'iit 
was raised in memoiT of the glurv of 
the Grand Empire." 

It was said that some of the old Inva- 
lides wept when the Column fell ; but 
they were at least the only persons who 
suffered any marked chagrin. For sev- 
eral days before the fall of the Column 
crowds thronged the Rue de la Paix and 
the adjacent streets, the workmen and 
workwomen being especially anxious to 
be present at the ceremonj'. Many quar- 
rels arose daih' in tiiese gatherings, and 
sometimes a party of irate Communists 
carried off to prison the men and women 
who liad dared to express themselves 
against tlie triumphant faction. On the 
10th of May the ofiieial journal an- 
nounced in a rnotlest paragraph that the 
demolition of the Column would take 
place at two P.M. A cordon of cav- 
alry, the Republican Guard, clad in red, 
white, and blue, despite the Communistic 
hate of the tricolor, was stationed on 
the Rue de la Paix, and presently the 
usual crowd was so increased that the 
masses were packed in with scarcely 
breathing- room. Every few minutes an 
orderly galloped throngli the narrow line 
which was left open, liearing news of 
fresh disaster or probal)le victoi'y to the 
head-quarters. 

In the Place Vcndome, and from the 
other side, battalions of troops going 
out to the fight beyond the fortifications 
were singing lusty songs. Workmen 
mounted on the balcony at the Column's 
top, wdience so many people, tired of 
life, had cast themselves down to die. 
manoeuvred the ropes which descended 
to a gigantic capstan, erected at a safe 
distance from the bed of brush and ma- 
nure ni)on which the glory of Napoleon 
was finally to repose. Towards two 
o'clock a certain Colonel Henry mounted 
to the top, and, clinging round the feet 



of Napoleon's figure, thrice waved the 
tricolor, the flag of France, and then 
tore it from its staff and threw it into 
the square. Very little responsive cheer- 
ing came from the crowds below, but a 
band was heard feebly playing the Jlar- 
seillaise. 

In the square, which, as we learned 
on that day, was henceforth to be called 
Place Internationale, a large number of 
the celebrities of Pan's lioiit/c were col- 
lected. Rochefort. accompanied by his 
daughter, his sister, and his secretarj', 
was one of the first to arrive, and was 
assigned a prominent window. Many 
of the radical mem))ers of tiie late Corpd 
Li'(iisla//f were in the throng, but re- 
received little notice from any one. 
Among the members of the Comuiuue 
were Arnault, Jacques Duraud, Portot, 
and Fortune, to whom was assigned the 
speech after the descent of the Column. 
Just as the workmen had begun at the 
capstan, two hours after the appointed 
time, and the cables attached to the sum- 
mit of the Column were beginning lo 
tighten, a rope snapi)ed, and one of the 
laborers dro[iped. half killed. lie was 
taken away, and others mounted at once 
to the summit to repair the liroken 
calile. The excitable crowd surged up 
and down, and many of the more violent 
anarchists talked of imprisoning the con- 
tractor, who seemed to have faiU-d in 
his scheme. 

But just then the men at the cai)stan 
began to work again ; the Column gave a 
slight shiver, and an immense scream, 
half terror, half delight, arose fii>m the 
people. Yet it was necessary to pro- 
cure another cable. Workmen were de- 
spatched to the Ministry of the Marine, 
and another hour of waiting was endured 
by the people, who were profoundly con- 
vinced that the crash would be terrible. 
At last a sharp whistle warned every 



470 



EUROPE L\ STORM AXD CALM. 



ono to watcli, ami just nsa lihirk-livank'd 
gcntleiiiau bi'liiiul mo ol)servod that ho 
had been a civil eiisriiioer for eighteun 
years, and that lie would stake his ropu- 
tation on tlie statL-niunt that the Column 
could never Iie i^ot down that way, there 
was a resonant ciack, and the great mass 
descended raiiidly tiiMingli the air. A 
dull, dead sound was 
heard as the weight 
crashed tiirough the 
pavement, and then 
an overwhelming 
cloud of dust arose 
and concealed 
everything. 

Hut the memorial 
of Imperial glory 




iiig up the ladders on to the statue and 
the erunibling ruins. The contractor 
had, after taking off one of the great 
l)lates of liroiize, made a deep incision 
in the stone work. The Column was 
then shored u)) liy two huge beams, one 
of which snai)[)ed like an asparagus 
shoot when the fall begau. The Column 
burst as it fell, and the statue was sepa- 
rated from the dome. A sailor juniijed 
u|)on it, and was about to crush the face 
of the bronze Napoleon with a stone, 
but was forbidden by an otiicer. Dozens 
of people rushed upon the Place, and 
carried off bits of the stone and of the 
shattered plating. 

Fortune's speech was neither long nor 
eloquent, nor was it listened to. The 



EPISODE OF t:ie commu.xe. — teik f.\llen c.es.vr. — the column vendAmk. 



was falliMi, and Conimunists embraced only noteworthy sentence in it was: 

Coniniunists in the ecstasy of their de- "This is ihr day of vengeance: this is 

light, and women ran hither and yon the defiaru'e hurled at the assassins of 

clapi)ing theii' hands. The Federal cav- \'ersailles ; this is the day when the peo- 

alrv was pushed b:iek bv the gigantic pie i-eclaim their rights," — allot which 

rush, and retired, grcjwling, and liranilish- was somewhat inilefinite. Diu'ing the 

ing sabi'es of which no one was afraid, whole afternoon the sullen booming of 

towards the barricades at the entrance of the cannon was heard; and many an- 

llie Place- The smoke and du^;t having nounced that the Prussians were tii-ing ,i 

cleared awav. we saw men mounted on sidute to the Conunune. in honor of its 

the pedestal, and l>raudishing red tings ilignitied conduct in taking down the 

of the Commune, and other men eliml)- war memorial. But this is onlv a 



EUROPE LV ^TORM AND CALM. 



471 



N° I 



UN SOU 




snmple of the absurd niiiioi's tluit lire- \n riotous dissipation. Wlicii tlic miard 
vailed. arrived on tlie nij>.iit in question, a large 

It was about tliis time that the Com- numlier of otlicers were found supping 
muue, which had declared most radical sumptuously with au equal number of 
measures against the vice of the 
great capital, and particidarly 
against the legal recognition of a 
certain vice, sent a strong detach- 
ment of soldiers to close the cele- 
brated Caf6 Americaiu. This brill- 
iant establishment, on one of the 
central boulevards, was, I believe, 
called American because the proprie- 
tor had long exercised the profession 
of a restaurateur in America. It 

was without doulit one of the most 
luxurious establishments in the 

world. The private ca»hinets were 

adorned with gold ; the panels were 

of satin, embroiilered in superb 

colors ; elegant pianos, sideboards 

loaded with crystal, and inlaid ta- 
bles, as well as the faultless cuisine 

and the excellent wines, had given 

the cafe an international reputa- 
tion. It was built towards the close 

of ISGT, when the Great Exhibition 

had shown the Paris tradesmen what 

a mint of money might be made out 

of strangers. The public supjier- 




RANDE COLORE 

DUCHENEI 



A propos des jean-foulres <ie mouchards tpii vout/ratf 

pousser Ics bans patriotes g la ijvcrrc o^UQl' 
Sa (jrande motion pour la sup^p&i^ 

fccture de police, y^^' 
Arte mn aposCrop^£^ 

gardes rtatiom^ 

citoijens. v 

Garde Ji voai j<%iT2& 



FAC-8IMTLE OF A TITLE- 
PA OK. 



fir' ffla-gpi-yoiHr. 



women, whose costlj' aj)- 
parel was their onh- claim 
to consideration. The 
rooms were rarely opened before mid night, officers were seized, tlu'own into vans, and 
and were only frequented by strangers, a sent to the front, where they were trans- 
few fashionable and dissipated Tarisiaufs, ferred to the trenches, and made to w(jrl< 
and the Mite of the dissolute women of withpickaxeandshovel. The women were 
Paris. Many of the cafes h.ad already packed off to prison and to hard hU)()r ; 
been visited by the Communists, and the the waiters in the caje were seized, and 
{jar(;ons, or waiters, taken to serve in the all who had no excuse were drafted, 
army. But the Caf6 Amoricain had u}) The next day a sentinel was placeil at 
to this time enjoyed a singidar immu- the entrance of the cafi. and no one 
nity. The otficers of tiie innumerable was allowed to enter. The shutters were 
Communist staffs, resjilendent with fancy finally put up, and the l)iilliant throng 
decorations, were accustomed to stroll of loungers on the terrace in front was 
into these places towards midnight when seen no more until the arrival of the 
they were off duty, and there to indulge regulars. 



472 



EUROPE IN STORM AM) CALM. 



CHAPTER FIFTY. 

Tlie XaiTow Escape from a IJcigrn of Tcn'or. — The Jlcn who Composed the Communal Council?. — The 
Bcuiuniii^ of the Eud. — The Eutrv of the Ilciriihii' Troojis. — The Tocsin. — The Niglit Alarm. 



TOWARD.S its close, tho Coinmnno 
ti'iidetl direetl_y to tlie cstnlilishineiit 
of a " w\\xn of toiror." It did not enter 
eoolh- iijiiin siicli a couvse. hut seems to 
have lieen driven to it, lioth by its own 
despoi-ate situation and by tlie madness 
of its supporters. From the 1st to the 
23d of Jlay, no day was without its 
revolutionary measures, some of them 
fantastic and ridiculous, others savagely 
practical and dangerous to the security 
of the upper and middle classes. A 
" committee of public safety," coiin»osed 
of resolute men like Aruand, !Mil- 
liere, Kauviei. and Felix Pyat, had the 
most extraordintiry jwwers delegated 
to it. Tlie C'oumiune began to feel the 
Inek of money, so the great railways had 
to p:iy up their iiack taxes ; and in one 
morning tlie representatives of the lead- 
ing coriMiiatioHs brought into the Com- 
munal otlk'es many hundreds of thousands 
of francs. On the 4tli of May, the 
Comminie abolislied all j)ohtical and 
]>rofessit)nal oaths as useless and cnm- 
l)rous formalities ; and on the same day 
it decreed the destruction of the " Ex- 
]iiatoiT Chapel." as the modest edifioe 
dedicated U) the memory of Louis XVI. 
is called. 

A few days later, the Coimnuuists lie- 
eame bolder. Citizen Fontaine was 
named as delegate to assume charge of 
the coulisciition of (he estates of the 
clnn-chcs and monasteries within the 
domain of the Conmuuie. Piesently, a 
chiinge was made Ili the meml>ership of 



the '• committee of public safety " : and 
it was then that Delesehize, Eudes, and 
Ciamliou were joined to tho dreaded or- 
ganization. It is easy to see what 
woukl have been their course from the 
lirst proclamation which they made, and 
which was dated the L'ltli of Florcal. 
year "T'.l ; or in the lioiiryvois calendar, 
May 14th, 1871. • This proclamation re- 
(|uircd that all citizens sliould carry (.-on- 
stantly about them cards establishing 
their identity, hy giving their names, 
professions, ages, d(.imiciles, numlx'rs of 
the legions, battalions, or companies, to 
which they liekmged ; and furthermore, 
their personal descri|jtion. AVith this 
strange law in full operation, no one 
woidd have been safe from arrest. 
Thousands of people could have been 
swept into great barracks and prisons, 
and packed together there as they were 
in tile old I\c\dhition, on the simiile ])re- 
text that their identity was not clearly 
estalilished. The '• committee of iniblic 
safety" alleged, as the reason for this law. 
that it was necessary to know who were 
friends and who were enemies. In 
other words, it created a class of sus- 
pects, and if it had once got them iuto 
prison, who knows but that it might have 
niadi' victims of them as it did of the 
hostagi'S ? 

Meantime, the civil officers of the Com- 
mune were scourged with tlie fear that 
the Versailles government would achieve 
by money what it had not, thus far, suc- 
ceeded in doing by force. They there- 



EUROPE I\ STORM AXD CALM. 



fore decreed that there should lie " civil 
commissioners. " representing the Com- 
mune to act in hiirmony with, in other 
words to watch over, the generals of the 
three armies of the Commune. These 
generals were Dombrowski, La Cecilia, 
and Wrobleski. At this time, the hand 
of Versailles was seen by the Commu- 
nists in every misfortune, however little 
effect it might have on their campaigns. 
When the great cartridge factory in the 
Rue Kapp was blown up, and one hun- 
dred persons were killed, this was 
instantly attributed by the Commune to 
the enemy at Versailles. 

Another decisive step towards the 
"Reign of Terror" was made on ]May 
17th, when the Citizen Raoul Rigault, 
procureiir dr la Coiminnie, presented 
with a great flourish of trum[)ets the 
following project. "The Commune of 
Paris, iu view of the immediate necessity 
thereof, decrees: Article 1. — A jury of 
accusation cau provisionally, in the case 
of persons accused of crimes or [)olitical 
offenses, pronounce penalties so soou as 
it has decided upon the cul|ialiility of 
tiie accused. Article 2. — Sentences 
shall be decided by the majority of the 
votes. Article 3. — Sentences shall be 
executed within twenty-four hours." 

R.aoul Rigault hastened to add that he 
would rather allow a culpable [lersou to 
escape than to have a single innocent 
one injured ; and by this single [ihrase 
he betrayed himself, for he knew that if 
this savage law were put iuto operation 
it would entangle in its meshes the inno- 
cent and the guilty alike. Many simi- 
lar projects were brought forward in the 
meetings of the Communists, and if the 
insurrection had lasted another month 
they would all have been in full opera- 
tion. 

Presently ucw changes were made iu 
the Committee of Public Safety, and. 



frequently reorganized, this body, on the 
20th of May, issued a warning to all 
individuals who might think of ofTering 
or accepting money as bribes, that they 
would bring themselves under the penal- 
ties for the crime of high treason, and 
would immediately be brought before 
court-martials. 

Ill these exciting days, when the fatal 
weakness of the Communist army was 
lieginning to disclose itself, the Com- 
munal legislative body still found time 
to devote a little attention to matters of 
education, and it issued an order sup- 
pressing all the sul)sidized theatres, in 
conformity, to use its own hniguage, 
" with the principles established by the 
first Republic, and enunciated by the 
law of ' Germinal in the year 11.'" But 
the crowning stroke of audacity was the 
decree which indicates, more clearly than 
anything else, the desperate measures 
upon which the Commune was almost 
resolved. It was published on the 20th 
of ^lay. and read as follows: •■The 
inhabitants of Paris are invited to return 
to their homes within forty-eight hours. 
After that time their stocks and bonds 
and the registries thereof will be burned." 
This emanated from the Central Com- 
mittee, and was signed by a man named 
Grelier. It was expected to bring back 
many thousands of persons who had 
taken refuge in Versailles. It was the 
vindictive menace of the non-property- 
holding class against the propcrty-hold- 
ei's. As a witty French frit'iid of mine 
put it, the Communists invited the pro[i- 
erty-holders to come home and lie 
beaten, and threatened that if tliey did 
not accept this invitation their houses ;ind 
their proofs of wealth would be liurneil. 
^' XoKS airjils refi/.i(^ ■mipiix qui' rchi" 
said the hoitnjpoh ; and they remained in 
Versailles aud the other subiirbau towns 
where they had taken refuge. 



474 



EUROPE IX Sl'nUM AM) CAI.M. 



(icncrnl C'liisoiet's tri;il liefotx' the 
Ciiiiiiiiunc xv.-is the last exciting iucidnit 
previous lo the entiy of tlie reguhir 
tro(i[is. Chiseret eoiidueted his own 
defense with great coolness and modera- 
tion, responded to the most idiotic and 
trcacheidus insinuations with frankness 
and eoiu'age, and when he was acquitted, 
aflei' one or two of the more violent 
nicmliers had clainieil his head, with 
I'eroeitv worlliy of their prototypes of 
tiie old revolution ho made the assem- 
liltd members a little speech, in which 
lie said tiiat they had seen tit to arrest 
him and liad now seen fit to discharge 
him. lie Ixii'e them no malice, and was 
willing to serve them again if he could. 

It is amusing to reflect that the most 
important cliarge brought against Gen- 
eral Cluseret by liis incompetent and 
ignorant associates in oflice was that he 
had boasted that his position was worth 
a million. " Cluseret," said the apes in 
uuifdim wIhi denounced him, "is going 
lo tuiu traitor and sell us for a million." 
As the (ieneral himself told the C'oni- 
nninists, — and as there seems little reason 
to doubt, — the whole story arose over the 
remark of an American who called upon 
him lor a [)ass with wiiich to leave 
Paris, and who jocoselv said to Cluseret 
on taking leave of him, "You were 
not worth nuich money a little time ago, 
lint vour place is W'orth a million now." 
This Clusei-et repeated, and was forth- 
with denounced l\y some liusybody. 

The members of this company of dar- 
ing adventurers, who thus for more than 
six weeks maintained the greatest in- 
surrection of UKidern times, kept u]i a 
verv vigorous defense against an angry, 
and, on the' whole, W'ell-e(iuipiied army 
of legular troops, overturned nearly 
everv important and fnndanientnl prin- 
ciple of society, suppressed religion, 
scornfully kicked at morals, denied the 



existence of a Supreme Being, and were 
rapidly organizing a grand scheme of ven- 
geance upon the whole property-holding 
class. This company contained in its 
I'anks, contrary to what might be sup- 
posed from its i-evolutionary actions, 
few men of distinguished ability, and 
few who had ever been heard of outside 
the walls of Paris before. Blanqui, the 
sublime old revolutionist, whose whole 
life seems to have been a blind protest 
against the evils of monarchy, and who 
was no sooner let out of prison than he 
undertook some cons[)iracy which speed- 
ilv brought him liack to durance vile, 
— lilanqui had no chance to sit in the 
Coiinnun.'d nssembly. After actively en- 
gaging ill Iwo or three abortive revolu- 
tions, which preceded the great final 
outbreak of the Commune, he had gone 
into the southern deiiartments to prepiare 
the faithful in those sections for the 
coming change at Paris, and was ar- 
rested and placed in a fortress. Blan- 
([ui was a man of suiierior talent; but 
at the time of his connection with the 
Conunuiie he had been so long in piison 
that he had lost nearly all knowledge of 
modern jirogress, as well as his confi- 
dence in the professions of moderate 
Uciinblicans in France. When he was 
linally liberated from prison, seven or 
eight years after he had been sentenced 
to "iierpetual detention" for his partici- 
pation ill the Commune, he was better 
acquainted with the courses of the stars 
and tlie phi>nomena of the heavens than 
with e\'erv-day politics ; and lie survived 
his liberation but a short time. There 
is something patlu'tic in the history of 
this old man, nearly thirty years in 
prison liecans? of his undying hatred of 
illiberalisin, as well as because of his 
valiant atlempts to overturn the govern- 
ments which displeased him. In the 
closing vears of his life, while he was 



EUROl'K IX STORM AXD CALM. 



47.3 



still a prisoner at Clervaiix, it is said 
that be slept all day and stood wakefid 
all night at his window, studying the 
skv, to which he had been compelled to 
turn his thoughts because the lower 
world was closed to him. 

The origins and callings of most of 
the members of the Commune were quite 
humble. Amouroux was a hatter ; An- 
drieu, an accountant ; Arnaud, a manu- 
facturer; Arnold, an architect; Assi 
and Adrial, mechanics ; Bergeret was a 
commercial traveller ; Beslay, who was 
a member of the Finance Committee, was 
described as "retired from business;" 
Billioray was an Italian painter. There 
were workers in morocco, in bross, in 
bronze ; bookbinders, shoemakers, stone- 
cutters, dyers, liank clerks, millers, 
chemists, jewellers, house-painters, 
cliairmakers, turners, photographers, 
scul|)tors in wood, commission ngents, 
doctors, wine-touts, carpenters, lawyers, 
horse-doctors, corset-makers, teachers, 
civil engineers, and furniture-makers, in 
this motley gathering of men who lioped 
to sway the destinies of Paris, and liy 
their conduct to influence the politics of 
Euro|)e. Finally, there were in the 
Connnunal Council no less tiian nine 
journalists, of whom two or three were 
vigorous writers, and appeared [iro- 
foundly convinced of the justice of the 
insane movement in which they were in- 
volved. Delescluze, Courmet, Vermorel, 
Vall^s (afterwards the editor of a Radical 
])aper in Paris), Vesinier, all had good 
local reputations. Cluseret, Gustave 
Courliet, the well-known and eccentric 
painter, and Gustave Flourens, were, 
perhaps, the only Communists whose 
reputation had extended beyond the 
limits of their own country. The ma- 
jority of these men esea))ed alive out of 
the great whirlwind of the last of Maj', 
1871. Those who were brou<>ht to bav 



died i)hilosoiihically, like Delescluze, or, 
with a certain bravado, like Alillifere and 
Raoul Rigault. They had boldly staked 
their existence upon the success of their 
experiment, and probably the more in- 
telligent of them were sorry to survive 
its failure. 

The end came with startling sudden- 
ness. At one o'clock on the morning of 
Monday, the 23d of Maj-, I was turn- 
ing homeward from the central boule- 
vards, after a long conversation with a 
marl )le- worker of Belleville, who had 
given me an animated account of a 
skirmish at the gates of the town from 
which he had just returned, when, at 
the corner of the Rue Caumartin, I met 
three friends, and we took our way 
together in the magnificent moonlight 
to the npi)er story of a huge mansion in 
the Boulevard Malesherbes. The friend, 
who was the lessee of this apartment, 
invited us to remain there overnight, 
putting at our disposition the rooms 
which had recently been deserted by his 
lamily, and mentioned his conviction 
that important events were close at 
hand. 

Even as he spoke there came a faint 
sound borne on the midnight breeze as of 
music in the distance, or like the clang of 
village bells. Presently it came again, 
and at last swelled into a great harmony 
which was at once superb and exciting. 
One of the party — an Anglo- Parisian — 
sprang out on to the balcony, listened 
for a moment, then rushed back into the 
room and cried. " It is the tocsin ! " 

It was, indeed, the tocsin ; and, should 
I live for a century longer, I should 
hope never to hear again so grand and 
so imposing an alarum. This night of 
Slay was, save for the occasional crack- 
ing of far-off musketry, so tranquil, so 
full of perfume of flowers and of the 
fresh, green leaves, so abounding in the 



47(i El'ROl-l-: I\ STORM AM) CAI.M. 

lusty life uf the opciiino- siiniiiH'i', that it was no (li)ul)t of it; tlie reanlar array 

api)ealed to revery rather tliaii aroused had entered, and tiie great final battle 

to action. Until the first notes tVoui was at hand. 

tlu' uiellow liells the central district of By-and-by the noise of the tocsin 

Paris was as (juiet as a village. As we faded away into the I'ush of the night 

had walked home we had seen here and lu-eeze ; and when we were weary of the 

tliere a lielated soldier dragging his sore heavy rumble of cannon going to the 

feet wearily along, or a gossiping grou|i front, and caissons jolting Ijy, we stole 

of servant-girls; but nothing to call to to bed. and fi-om sheer fatigue slept 

mind the danger and the excitement of until dawn. In the morning, when ! 

war. Ten minutes after the brazen awoke, aftei- a dream of a ganlen filled 

clangor of the huge bells in the tower of v.ith fruits and Howers, the first thing 

Noti-e Dame had been borne to our which I heai'd was a fresh voice singing : 
startled ears, soldiers, cannon, drums, 

trumi)els, and bugles seemed to have '* Bon Frain;ais iluit vivre ]iinir elle, 

siirung out of the solid earth. Jleu ^^ I^'""' '^'l'"^' ''"" I"i"ui.-nis ,lnit mcurir." 
were shouting to each other from the 

roofs of houses; lights and watch-fires The sempiternal ijdiiiiii. Xhv Chirrorhc 
sprung u|i on ]\Ioulmartre ; little bodies of the baiiicades, was ali'eady on han<l, 
of National (niards hastened to group — as ready for a combat as tVir a song, 
themselves into liattalions ; and the wild As soon as my comiianions were astir 
notes of the liUgles echoed from every we started to leave the house, but were 
quarter. luet by the rniirii'nji' with the statement 
We sat long on the balcony, high that no one <'ould \entui(.' into the street, 
above the trees, listeuing to the grand that a battle was imminent, and that 
anthem of alarm which resounded Iroui we had liarricades on all sides of us. 
l;elle\ille down to Xotre Dame, froUi We heard crii'S of fright beneath oui- 
tit. JSulpice around to St. Germain des windows, and these were amply ex- 
Pri^s. Then, far away, too, where, as we plained by the sibilation of the shells, 
afterwarils leai-ueil. the enemy had just which now began to pass over the roof 
entered, some liells pealed theii' chimes ; in all directions. From the front win- 
others gave solemnly the three regular (lows of our lofty apartment we could 
clangs, which, when heard amid the see the dust caused liy the crash of the 
furious beating of the di'um. produce<l a falling projectiles ; and a contlagratioii 
most remarkable eHect. Amnmnilion- on the Kne de Kivdi was already send- 
wagons raltlcM.l away right and left ; ing up colunuis of dense lilaek smoke, 
and on the (.■oi-ner of the IJue Rovah', in the Tlacn' de la Concorde we could 
near thi' noble Coiinthian front of the (li-^tiiielly hear the noise of artillery : and 
Mad ■leiue. a great body of soldiers was all along the Boulevard IMaleshei'bes we 
collected, and we heard pi'esently the saw the defenders of the C'onunune, the 
monotonous clalter of their footsteps, soldiers in uniform, and the lioys and 
Presently, mingled with the clangor of girls from the workman's quarter taking 
the bells, and the roll of the drums, up the [laving-stones and piling them into 
and the rumble of the flatteries, we barricades, cutting down sycamores and 
heard the hissing and the biu'stiug of dragging them hither and yon for the 
shells, now near, now far away. There fabrication of (7(('r((((.c f/^'/VAsv. Presently 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



All 



we were joined by two or tliree Ameri- 
cans, who had been compelled to lend a 
hand at the barricades before they could 
pass, and who had only escaped arrest 
by statiiig that they had acquaintances 
in this our house, near the door of which 
they li:i(l lieen seized. A sergeant, witii 
haif-a-dozeu men, was marking out a 
semicircular line of defense at the 
mouth of the Rue Pasquier, and watch- 
ful ti'uards brought into the line of labor- 
ers all men who chanced tw enter the 
street. We saw many wiio refused to 
woriv smartly rapped over the lieads with 
the butts of guns ; and in some cases, 
when a man had escaped, men ran after 
him and dragged him back. The doors 
and windows on the lower floors of all 
shops and houses were rapidly closed, 
and at nine o'clock the Boulevard Males- 
herbes, which at seven had displayed 



all its wonted activity, was as silent as 
a country graveyard. We could look 
directly down upon the barricade, de- 
fended by two small six - pounders, 
handled with great skill by half-a-dozeu 
men dressed as soldiers. From the ac- 
tion of these men we judged that they 
were confronting a force by which they 
were likely soon to be attacked, and we 
watched their movements with breathless 
anxiety. As it happened this barricade 
was one of the keys of the situation. 
The attack upon it from the church of 
St. Augustin was one of the most ob- 
stinate and vigorous nuide liy the regulars 
duiing the street fighting; and by our 
accidental visit to this apartment we 
had secured a caiiital view of one of llic 
most important episodes of the insurrec- 
tion. 



478 



EUROPE ly STORM AND CALM. 



CHAPTER PIFTY-ONE. 

Strcpt-Fi^'-htinj,' a« a Rcicnoc. — ■ The naiTinades. — A Ruse ile Gufrre. — Looking Down on a Battle-. — Tin 
Eiiruin;? of llic line Rovaie. — The Doi'cnee of Moutmarti-e. — General Domhrowski's Death. 



IX a slidit tinio the C'ommimists in 
■•our lnuTicadc," as vro now called 
it, rect'ivcd orders from some antlioritv 
furllicr liack in the centre of the town. 
The marines manceuvred their little 
guns, lired awav in the direction of the 
St. Angustin Church, which we could 
not see, although wi' could get a glimpse 
of part of the broad avenue leading 
directly to it. There was much excite- 
ment after tins [)reliminary shot, and in 
a few minutes it was answered by the 
boom of ;i cannon, and solid shot came 
crashing against the great paving-stones, 
upsetting the little guns and raising such 
a dust and smoke that we could see 
nothing for two or three minutes. When 
we looked, one man was down. The 
marines luul taken off their hats and 
were shouting, ■' T7*'e hi Coiniiuiiic." 
and fortv or lifty National Ouards were 
cowering behind the barricade which luid 
been hastily rcptiired. Crash came an- 
otlier solid shot agtiin. The stones flew, 
and two men were carried off. At this 
jiUK-tiire, siiarp-sliooters were thrown 
(lilt ill front iif our liarricaile, and a cry 
arose ill llie street that the regulars were 
about to charge'. Tlie house in which 
we were Was what is known in Paris as 
;ni iliif. Standing at the angle of two 
.streets, it connnanded a view in tliree 
direi-tions. From the front windows we 
could look directly down upon tlie bar- 
rictide just described, on the right upon 
tlie lioulevard JIalesherlies ; and on the 
left into two or three streets, which we 



now perceived were filled witii Commu- 
nists, well fortified beiiind barricades. 
A great noise of firing now came from 
the Champs Elysc'-es, and wo heard a 
l)ugle sounding the attack. By and by 
the sharp-shooters retired iu confusion 
behind their barricade, and looking down 
upon the liarricade, we saw that they 
had left four dead men behind them. 

At this moment the circular barricade 
at the corner of the Rue Pasquier was de- 
serted by its defenders, who had gone to 
reinforce the greater one, extending di- 
rectlv ticross the Boulevard Malesherlies. 
The rushing sound of the solid shot com- 
ing from the church of St. Augustin was 
now incessant. The Versaillais had got 
the battery at work, anil were preparing 
to make an attack, after having made a- 
break in the barricades. 

Towards four o'clock the storm of 
shot and shell became so deadly and 
overwlu-lming th.at our rooms were hardly 
safer than the open sti'eet. The Commu- 
nists hr.d taken possession of all the bal- 
conies behind tile line of their defense, 
and sent shot frequently into thi^ win- 
dows of the houses outside their lines, 
because of their suspicion that the 
reguhir troops had occupied some of 
tlujse houses. About half past four we 
witnessed prolitibly the most singular 
incident of tlie whole insurrection. One 
of our company wlio was watching at a 
front window cried out. — '• The Liners ! 
The Liners ! " We all I'an to see, and 
there surely enough was a Versaillais 



EUROPE LV STORM AXD CALM. 



479 



advanoing towards tlic barricade timidly, 
wUile the insurgents were loudly ulieering 
him in token of welcome. One of the 
Communists held his musket reversed in 
the air, and shook it invitingly. But 
suddenly the regulars appeared from all 
C(jrners, came running across the street 
from the direction of tlie Rue Boissy 
d'Anglais,and stood huddled together as 
if waiting some general movement. One 
held up his hand to his comrades at the 
chuich as if urging them not to fire, and 
then cautiously eutered the barricade. 
He was received with great joy, embraced, 
and called endearing names. Others 
were inclined to follow him, when all at 
once a suspicion seemed to thrill the 
Communist lines, — this might be a ruse 
de guerre, a stratagem ; and twenty in- 
surgents leaped upon the piled-up stones, 
and pointed their guns straight into the 
faces of the regulars, who were now 
pressing forward, and were so taken 
by surprise that they crouched behind, 
looking pitifully up, as if they expected 
the fatal shots. Just at this juncture a 
Versaillais officer appeared at the cor- 
ner of the Rue Pasqnicr, where a number 
of his men stood undecided, lie angrily 
called them back, and, throwing away 
the giui which he had been carrying, 
drew his sword. Twenty or thirty liners 
ran swiftly, and succeeded in reaching 
the court-yard of a neighboring house, 
the dfior of which they forced open. A 
Conununist ofiicer shot a liner as he 
ran ; the man dropped dead in his tracks ; 
and then a frightful hand-to-hand 'inHee 
ensued. The exiilanation of this singu- 
lar proceeding was obvious. Tlie I'egu- 
1.1 r> had intended t(.) take the barricade 
liy stratagem. The insurgents had hoped 
to incite them to desert and jijin their 
forces ; and when each party found 
its hopes were vain the fight was in- 
evitable. 



Through the rising smoke we could 
dimly discern the figure of a woman, 
tall, angular, ferocious, brandishing a 
gun, and bringing it down with resound- 
ing thwacks upon the heads of those 
assailants who braved the terrible fire. 
She had evidently just arrived in the 
barricade. Every ten mintites, which 
seemed hours, there was a great clamor 
of bullets and cannon. When it ceased 
the Versaillais had all disappeared, the 
insurgents were once more crouched 
behind the barricades, and many of the 
wounded were crying out touching 
appeals for the suspension of hostilities 
until they could be helped away. A 
Versaillais ran out of a door in the 
Rue Pasquier, and tried to drag in tiie 
dead man shot by the Connnunist ofiicer. 
A bullet whizzed close to his ear. lie 
dropped the dead man, who festered in 
the siui for hours thereafter. An insur- 
gent lay dead at the right corner of our 
house on the boulevard. An old gray- 
haired liner reclined directly opposite 
our house in a door-way, looking as if 
he had sat down, and fallen asleep. 
Half a dozen of the red-breeched soldiery 
were heaped together in front of the 
barricade ; and behind the stones the 
wounded were numerous, and their am- 
bidance men were hard at work. No 
sooner had the Versaillais retreated 
than their batteries l>egan firing solid 
shot and shell again. From five o'clock 
until dark the musketry and shelling were 
unrelenting. The insurgents retaliated 
by subjecting the Rue Pasquier and the 
right side of the Boulevard Malcsherlies 
to a veritable bombardment. The walls 
and floors of all the adjacent lupuses 
treml)led, and bullets whistled once more 
through our apartments, breaking mir- 
rors and cutting curtains. A gentleman 
from St. Louis, who had frequently been 
cautioned by members of oui' party 



4.S() EUROPE IX STOIiM AXD CALM. 

befause lie insisted on loolving with a tlie Vlace de la Concorde. This was 

large lield-glass out of a window unpio- suceeeded hy a f"^^;ilhlde, nmcli more 

teeted by shutters, learned a lesson terrible and tar stronger than any yet 

which taught hiui inuih. He had licard in onr street. Now the rush 

retreated to an arm-chair in the niidiUe of bullets became quite terrifying. The 

of the room, and there continued his tliunder of shells, the blowing of bugles, 

observations with his glass, when he and tiie cracking of rhasse^jots were 

suddenly arose, and went iutothe tlining- steadily intensified until half-jjast four 

room to get a glass of water. AVlicn he in the afternoon, when a detachment of 

rclnrneil lie was shown two Imlletdiolcs Vcrsaillais sud<Ienly appeared ill the 

through the back of the chair, and the corners of the streets leading from the 

marks on the marble mantel-piece just Chanii)s E;iysees. As they saw the 

behind. Had he not lieeii tiiii'sty at that t'omnninist barricades they liesitated. 

particular moment the two Imllets would An olhcer was pricking them on with his 

have perforated his breast. swoid when a sli(.)t from the barricade 

As darkness came on, both parties struck him in the knee. He fell to the 

fired at Hashes, and now and tlieii sent sidewalk, still brandishing his sword, 

shells over the houses. The coiici('r;ii> The men rushed [last him, and poured a 

came to supplicate us not to have can- s1kii'[) voili'y into the now demoralized 

dies or gas lighted. We retired, for insurgents. They saw that they W(.)uld 

com]iarative safety, to the back rooms be taken in the rear if they remained a 

of llie lower tloiU's, and su[iped as best moment longer, so they tied preciiiitatel^', 

we could <-iff bread, rice, and a little lighting as they went; and the tricolor 

wine, which the landlord, who li\'ed in was seen waving from all the houses 

the house, offered us. American house- near us. 

wives must be told that in the apart- The liners at once proceedccl to ex- 

ineiit system of the Parisian domiciles amine the knapsacks left behind liy the 

the i)antry is an unknown instil ution, Communists, and it was a quaint sight 

and a blockade of twenty-four hours to see them greedily, and yet suspi- 

leaves the dwellers in I'aris houses des- ciously, eating the l)rcad found in them, 

titute of food. Towards nine o'clock In a few iiK.imeuts the house o|iposite us 

the smoke cloud did rise a little, but all was filled with soldiers, so we apjieared 

night tile angry sloiin of lead raged at on the balconv and hung out an Anieri- 

intervals, and early dawn brought the can Hag. A dozen guns were pointed at 

noise of a great attack in the Champs it, but an officer intervened, and exiila- 

Elysees, and the wild roar of one directly nations, which seemed for the moment 

behind our liousi'. The Vcrsaillais were satisfactory, were made. Oiir iiewly- 

iiow all anniud us. From time to time come Vcrsaillais arranged the barricade 

the barricade on our front was deserted, so as to turn their backs to us. .Vboiif 

the Nationals, as the Communists now fifty men were \n\t behiml it, and they 

called themselves, rushing to assist in lay (piietly on their ai'iiis waiting orders, 

the network of defence in the various Bullets now struck the Madeleine's noble 

streets, (oidot de INIauroi, Ferine des walls every moment, and little pieces 

]\Iatliurin.s. and De S^ze. On this were chipped from the c<ilnmns. 
Tui'sday noon a tremendous cannon- A great conflagration burst out in 

adiug announced the decisive attack on the Rue IJovale, and a dense column of 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



481 



smoke near the Place de la Concorde in- 
clined MS to l)elievo tliat tlie pnblic liiiild- 
iiigs near at liand liad been fired. Tlie 
insurgents were niaiiing a strong fight in 
tlie Kiu' de Kivoli, anil their batteries on 
tile liimievards were playing directly on 
tlie honses which the Versaillais had 
occupied at the junction of our street 
witii tiie boulevard. We could now vent- 
ure on lo our balconies with compara- 
tive safety, although the soldiers thought 
it wise to shield tlieniselves with mat- 
tresses. 'J'lie spectacle aroinid was l)e- 
yond description. Almost every house 
save our own was vomiting fire and 
smoke from twenty windows. Great 
streams of sparks and cinders were 
flyir.g over the Rue Koyale ; shells were 
descending tliei-e and iu tlie I'lace tie la 
Concorde ; batteries were rattling under 
our windows on the sidewalks, and iu 
the middle of tlie street, ammunition- 
wagons on every side of us made the 
alighting of shells in our vicinity' doubly 
dangerous. The iron hail-storm now 
seemed to turn and continue, in a meas- 
ure, up the boulevards, but presently 
changed, and we could see that the Ver- 
saillais had occupied the Place de la 
Madeleine, and learned that the insur- 
gents were slowlj' retreating down the 
arcades of the Rue de Rivoli. The sur- 
render of the barricade Malesherbes, 
which was the way to all the approaches 
to the Madeleine, and to the whole net- 
work of barricades between lis and the 
Grand Opera, had been an important 
move for the invading regulars. 

As soon as our barricade was carried 
the slaughter in the streets was dread- 
ful The soldiers, although quite solier 
and very well discii)lined, had probaldy 
been instructed to give but little quarter. 
Whenever there was the slightest resist- 
ance when they arrived they shot the 
men as soon as made prisoners. We 



saw six insurgent.s shot iu the Rue Go- 
dot de Mauroi a moment after they were 
taken. Houses were searched, and any 
man found with his hands slightly black- 
ened with powder was instantly shot. 
The soldiers backed him up against the 
wall, threw a couiile of men into line ; 
two reports were heard, and the dead 
man's coat was stripped oH' ami thrown 
over his head. These men were left 
lying where they fell until "Wednesday 
afternoon. 

The Malesherbes barricade, first at- 
tacked at ten o'clock on Monday morning, 
was taken at five on Tuesday afteriu)on. 
It held ontexactly thirty-one hours, during 
which time the insurgents in the central 
part of the town managed to execute de- 
feiiscai which otherwise tliey could never 
have managed. Had iMoiitmartre not 
been taken at such an eaily epoch in the 
fight the Versaillais would have had 
far greater losses before reaching the 
central boulevards, This barricade was 
defended by about two hundred men, 
most of whom were very brave. The 
majority of them were killed or taken 
prisoners before reaching the boulevards. 
All the way down the Boulevard Hauss- 
mann soldiers met with the most deter- 
mined resistance. " One man, whom we 
cornered," said an Eleventh-artillery- 
man to me, "ran into a court-yard, and 
we agreed to spare him if he gave up his 
gun ; but he closed his hands so tightiv 
about it that we had to pry his fingers 
off one by one. Then we shot him." 
An old man of sixty, as the same artil- 
lery-man was standing at the head of 
the ISoulevard FLaussmanu, was shot in 
sight of his son of fourteen, who threw 
himself on the body, and begged to be 
killed also. '• It was pitiful to see," 
said the rough Lyons boy, turning quite 
pale. •' We have left fifty dead men 
above here," he added ; " but we shall 



482 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



be revenged do-sru helow;" imd he 
pointed to the Jladeleine. 

Although we went into tlie streets 
that Tnesilay evening we did not go 
farther than tlie barricade, as tiie siis- 
liicious of tile Versailles trooi)S were very 
strong, and they saw an escaping Com- 
munist in every civilian. We saw a 
uumljer of arrested persons taken to the 
Hue Boissy d' Anglais, where they were 
judged and innnediatel}' shut. We re- 
mained in-doors that night, and at early 
dawn went out to find that the insurgents 
had been compelled to withdraw from all 
their positions in the neighborhood, and 
from all the central boulevards below the 
Rue Drouot ; also that they had tired the 
l)ublie buildings in their line of retreat 
towards the Hotel de Ville. Entering 
the Rue Royale we found heaps of dead 
men, and saw many of the houses on the 
right-hand side slowly burning. Fire- 
men were inducing every passer-by to 
help, and we had to stand in line and 
pass linekets of water, in the primitive 
Parisian fashion of e.xtingnishing fires, 
before we could establish our right to 
pass on. The insurgents, we were told, 
had applied petroleum to burn the quar- 
ter when they found they could no longer 
hold it. Here, also, we heard the story 
that flftj' insurgents had lieen bayoneted 
in llie Madeleine; but this was untrue. 
Several men were killed at the church, 
but none inside the sacred walls. 

The formidable character of the works 
at Montmartre and the immense ninii- 
lior of gur.s aecumnlatcd there by the 
insurgents had made every one in the 
central quarters of Paris anxious, as the 
Connnunists had sworn to bombard that 
section whenever the Versailles troops 
occupied it as far as the Grand Opera. 
But General Clinchant's troops, who 
had occupied the Pare Monceau during 
the night and morning of the entry, suf- 



fered but little from the projectiles thrown 
from the great hill.; and early Tuesday 
morning the divisions of General Lad- 
miiault's troops, taking possession of 
all the gates from the Porte Maillot 
to St. Ouen, had attacked Montmartre 
in the rear, while the Duplessis division 
went up from the Gare St. Lazare through 
the Rue d'Amsterdam. General Clin- 
chant then sent reinforcements to all 
the exterior boulevards ; also to the Rue 
lilanehe. The barricades on the Boule- 
vard des BatignoUes, and the streets 
entering it, were carried without much 
resistance ; and at half-past nine the 
Versaillais entered precipitately on the 
Place Clichy, which had been hastily 
abandoned liy the Communists. 

Montmartre then liegan tiring directly 
into Clichy. and wrecked numerous 
houses in the vicinity. "Women and 
men fired from windows upon the regu- 
lais, and were at once taken out, placed 
against walls, and shot. The Mcmt- 
niartre cannon were finally silenced at 
ten o'clock. The regulars flattered 
themselves that they had dismounted 
the insurgent guns ; but the truth was, 
that there was no more amnuniition on 
the mountain. The Federals did not 
expect to be so quickly surrounded, and 
ammunition wagons blocked half-a-dozen 
out-of-the-way sti'eets. Finding their 
endeavors to scale the heights and bring 
fresh supplies to the batteries useless, 
the drivers were shot from their horses. 
Four new barricades were then thrown 
up on the Place Clichy, but only one 
made a detei'Uiined defense, and cost 
the regular army a large number of 
men. The liveliest resistance was made 
in the Place Blanche, where a few Fed- 
erals held out for two hours against a 
large force. One of the barricades was 
taken by stratagem on the |)art of the 
Versaillais, who entered houses directly 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



4S3 



above the insurgents, and from the 
windows shot down scores. On the 
Place Pigale numerous iiiitndUi'uses 
sent destruction against the attacking 
forces, but liy noon the Federals were 
driven quite to the south flaniv of the 
hill. Just as they were preparing for a 
new stand there the red breeches ap- 
peared on the hill-top and wildly pro- 
claimed victory. These men belonged 
to a division of llie Ladmirault Corps, 
which liad swept awa}' tlie batteries near 
St. Ouen and toolv one hundred and five 
cannon on tiie road. Arriving at tlie 
plateau on the hill-top, they found it 
deserted. The mass of the Federals 
had escaped by the streets leading to- 
wards La Chapelle. The panic in the 
retreat was frightful. The streets were 
strewn for half a mile with knapsacks, 
guns which the Communists had broken 
in their fury, with cartridges, and even 
with uniforms, which many men in their 
fright had torn off and thrown away. 
Some cowards attempted to take refuge 
in a house, but found the doors closed 
against them, and were shot down like 
dogs. The stampede was only rallied 
at La Chapelle, where barricades were 
hastily erected. The regulars occupied 
all the houses, searched the rooms, and 
whenever they found a man apparently 
fresh from the fight he was shot without 
mercy. The house of a blacksmith, in 
the Rue de Navariu, stood a severe siege, 
but finally all the defenders were taken 
and killed. At five in the evening the 
fight was still in progress on the Boule- 
vard Rochechouart ; but before night- 
fall all the Montmartre section was in 
the power of the regular armj-. 

The defense of this noted hill seems 
to have been confided to General Clu- 
seret, but he had not been heard of at 
the close of the action. The story of 
General Dombrowski's death is simple 



and almost touching. The insurgent 
General was at La Mrtette wlien the 
news came that a great attack in that 
vicinity had succeeded. An orderly 
hastily brought him word Hint tiie Ver- 
saillais would [irobably soon surround 
the house in which he had his head- 
quarters. He at once burned his papers 
and ran out of the building to the rail- 
way station of the Ceinture, and finally 
gained the Place VendOme, where, it 
will be remembered, was the central 
head-quarters. From that point he went 
to Batignolles, and on Tuesdav was in 
the tliick of the fight on Jlontmartre. 
While riding along the Boulevard Or- 
nano, accompanied by a large number 
of his staff officers, about noon, he was 
struck in the abdomen by a musket bul- 
let and fell to the ground. Four men 
bore the dj'iug General, who bit the cloth 
of the stretcher in his agony, to the 
Hospital Lariboisii^re, where he died 
shortly afterwards. His last words were, 
according to one version, "You see how 
one dies when he has been betrayed." 
Another account, and probably a more 
trustworthy one, given by the hospital 
aids, says that, sliortly before death, he 
cried out : " And those men accused me 
of betraying them;" then he babbled 
of his wife and child, and so passed 
away. His aides-de-camp carried off 
his body in a common wagon, after hav- 
ing theatrically sworn before the death- 
bed that they would avenge him. 

Dombrowski's melancholy exclamation 
about treason was prompted by the 
rumor which had at one time gained 
ground in the Communist circles, that he 
had been bribed by the regulars, and 
that if he had not been corrupt the troops 
could not have entered. There is no 
foundation for this slander. Dom- 
browski, although misguided, was brave 
and honest. He had perhaps thought 



4«4 



KUROl'E jy STDUM AX/) CALM. 



of nmkiiij;' lii.s w:i.y throimh some imint of 
the Prussian lines, and escaping when 
the l)attle in Paris became ho|)eless ; lint 
this does not seem clearly' i)roved. Tiiere 
was a story that he with his " seven 
hnndied horsemen " had intended to 
Siallop to ISelginm, cntting their way 
through any small villages which miglit 
otfer resistance. Rnt any one who had 
seen iiis seven hundred horsemen would 
know that this was absurd. Dorn- 
browski's staff w'as mounted on omnibus 
horses, old roadsters svlio had already 
done their best service, and presenled 
a most ridiculous appearance. In the 
whole of the C'onnnune army there were 
not thi'eescMire men who knew how to 
lidr. 

Early Wednesday inoi-ning, just as the 
first glim|)ses of dawn were visible, the 
firing in and around the Rue Royale and 
on the boulevards died (|uite away. The 
far-off cainion shots eonxim-ed us that 
the insurgents had retii'cd towards the 
Louvre, and were tight ing I heir way to 
the Bastille. We had relnrn^'d to sleep at 
tile house in tin- ISoulexard .Malesherbes ; 
and at dawn, on Wetlnesday morning, 
we wore once more in the Kue Koyale. 
One side of this tine street was now 
almost entirelj' burnt away, and the re- 
maining walls tottered and gave forth a 
pri-nliar odor, as if dead bodies were 
burning within. Many of the unfortu- 
nate inluibitants were doubtless roasted 
alive in their cellars. Near the junction 
of the boulevard with the Rue Royale 
lav the body of an old man, a t'ora- 
nnniist, with a horrii)le wound in the 
head. Some passers-by had i-rmoved the 
covering from his face, and the ojien 
eyes were quite frightful to look upon. 
Farther on was the corpse of a liner, 
young and handsome. 

At an angle of the Rue Royale was 
still another victim, beaten half out of 



shape. Down at the great double bai- 
ricade. at the entrance to the Place de la 
Concorde, great crowds were collected, 
pi'cring over at the vestiges of the light. 
In the Place, the caryatides supporting 
the fountain basins were scarred with 
bullets, and the great statue of Lille had 
fallen from its pedestal. The beautiful 
equestrian statues at the entrance of the 
Champs Elysees had miraculously es- 
ca|)ed. UndoubtetUy the barricades at 
the corner of the Kne Royale and the 
Place de la Concorde had bei'ii but poorly 
defended. A soldier of the line ran close 
by one of them on Tuesday afternoon, 
and tore down the two red flags flutter- 
ing above it befoie the astonished 
insurgents could flre a shot. As he re- 
turned, a discharge of nuisketry burst 
from the barrica.de, and the courageous 
liner fell flat. A shout arose. '■ He Is 
(had ! He is dead ! " cried the insurgents. 
He had only fallen to escape the shots, 
and scampered back to his own lines 
unharmed. 

It having been long before determined 
among the insurgents that, if they could 
not obtain the municipal fianchise of 
Paris, they should make a systematized 
attempt to burn all the [lublic monun)ents 
and palaces, as well as the ministries 
and iirincipal houses, it is not surprising 
th.at the Rue Royale was so readily fired. 
During the days of Monday and Tues- 
day, in various houses in the Boulevard 
Malesherbes, in the Rue de Rivoli, and 
Rue de la Pai.K even, little square boxes 
were placed l)eliind the doors, or in other 
()bseure corners in the court-yards. These 
boxes, when examined, were found to 
contain petroleiun, so arranged that it 
could be fired at a moment's notice. x\ 
gentleman whose word I cannot <lout)t, 
one of the editors of Jjc T<'iii/>s, told me 
that the insurgents used every pretext 
to conceal from the inhabitants the fact 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



4S5 



that tliev were firint; tlic liouses. Had 
not tlie ifgiilai- troops lieen very near at 
hand, when his house was invaded by 
tlie Conuniinists, he was certain tlie 
latter would have succeeded in destroy- 
ing it. Men wlio belonged to wliut was 
organized as the incendiary l)attaliou 
disguised themselves as firemen, aud fed 
the flanies instead of helping to ex- 
tinguish them. This sounds almost in- 
credible, but there is very gooil evidence 
of its ti nth. Men came from all quarters 
carrying bottles of petroleum and in- 
flammable matches in their pockets, and 
one's life was not worth a rush anywhere 
in I he street, as it needed only the de- 
nunciation of the first bonn/pois to have 
any pei'son shot down by the infuriated 
soldiery. As we turned to leave the 
Rue Royale we saw a regiment of liners 
passing on to the fight at the Louvre, 
on the double-quick. The officers were 
swearing at and striking the wounded 
men, who, overloaded and stained with 
blood and covered witli dust, had little 
elasticity in tlieir steps. 

Great jets of fire were streamiiii; up 
in the direction of the Rue St. Honore, 
and lieyond the Tnileries. and the Imrn- 
ing Ministry of Finances sent up flames. 
Now and then, from the latter building, 
a siiower of sparks and lialf-burnt papers 
came drifting above us, and the air was 
liot and sulphurous. People's faces were 
blanched with a new fear, for conflagra- 



tions are so unusual at Paris that most 
citizens are frightened even at an or- 
dinary' one. This gigantic series of fires, 
this wholesale destruction of property 
by the vindictive Communists, actually 
turned the heads of many peoi)le. The 
excess of sudden insanity, conse(|nent 
on the horrors of tlie seven days' light, 
was so numerous as to excite universal 
attention among medical men. 

Wednesday night will always be re- 
membered by those who witnessed its hor- 
rors as the •• night of fires." Returning 
that evening to our old quarters on the 
Boulevard Malesherbes we remarked 
among the inhabitants along the route a 
feverish agitation. Kvei'y one susjiected 
every one else of alteuipting to fire the 
house in which he lived, and the cnn- 
cicrf/cs were liusy on tlie roofs with hose 
watering the walls, or below arranging 
wet mortar against the cellar windows, 
or placing barrels of water and hea|)s of 
sand ill the court-j'ards. As we [lassed 
through the Rue Scribe we saw^ groups 
of soldiers marching men and women 
wild were to lie shot, a gun. it was said, 
ha\ing been fired from the house in 
which they had been taken. It was after 
dark when we arrived at the scene of the 
late JIalesherbes fight. The streets were 
crowded with soldiery, and hardly half 
an hour passed without the rattle of 
musketry, indicating an execution at the 
military post in the Rue Boissy d'Anglais. 



48(5 EURUl'E l.\ STOIIM AXl) CALM. 



CHArTER FIFTY-TWO. 

TliC Ni;;ht of Files. — Tliu Pctmleine^. — The E\(i-iiti(iii <il' Wonion. — Paris in Flames. 

FIJOM the iiii|n'i' windows ciC (nir the >'uni>;vcl ami alYrigiited throngs, had 
housr we conld sfc tlie irriat lircs so unsctlk'd oui' nerves that the siuldeu 
in the l!uc St. Ilonoie and the Uue de a|)|iearan(.'e of eight gendarmes iu tlie 
Kivoli. wheic shi>iis and iioiises weie garret, whence we were viewing the 
eonst.-intlv lired 1)\ the daiing incendiary scene, almost unmanned us. In iiarsh 
hrigade. Shells from the liultes Chan- tones thev demanded why two of our 
mont, where the nticated (_'olinnunists com|iany had mounted to the roof, and 
had now ei'iH'ted their liarricades, came hade them come down at once. They 
reijularlv. six e\'ery live minutes (we descended lirecipitately, and we exi)laino<l 
<-ounted them rcpcatcdh ) , to .■eld their ourselv<'s. The geiidanue.s having as- 
terrois to the lapidlv increasing tlnrnes. sincd themselves of our nationahty, re- 
The hurninu Tuileries still sent uji their tir<'d, grunililing, and we refrained from 
liuhts, fantastic as a aurora horealis, on further ad\-entures in |iiu'suit of knowl- 
the horizon, and tlie distant chuiior of edge. Nothing was left lint to crawl to 
fiisillaile came borne on the wicked wind the front windows and watch the retlec- 
which seemed to delight in siireadiiig tion of the tlames on the sullen sky. and 
the llanies. ( )llicers |ia.ssed beneath our to hear the lunibling of the distant 
windows, constantly enjoining the inhalii- Imttlc. All night we lay wakeful, listen- 
taiits to watch their iiouscs with ihi' iiig to the ca'ies of fright or of stern 
greatest vigilance ; we were not allowed conmiaiid. Towards one o'clock, a cry 
to have any lights, and had little iuclina- arose, a cry of ft'ar and anguish of a 
tion to i-un the i-isk of a domiciliary visit, woman in her last agony. It fairly 
which minht have resulted in our forced chilled our blood. AVe could not refrain 
<lei(arture foi- llii' militaiy iiost, wdiere to from nniniiig to the windciws and listen- 
be suspected was to be executed. iiig. It was a woman taken in the act 
About nine o'clock we were called to of firing the street, and we heard her led 
the gairet to witness an immense new away, protesting with liitter screams, 
burst c)f llnine. which weweietold was •• You can explain to the commandant," 
I, a N'illette oil lire, the troops lia\ iiig said a, voice. The woman was hurried 
lost no time in liiiiig it. after having to the Ww I'asipiier. I'resently there 
sunnnoiied the iiismgents from the bar- was a shot ; then all was still for a few 
licailcs to surrender. The Hotel de nioments. 

\'ille. which was now biiining, adiled the The citizens who had not symjiathized 

vast ulow of its coiillagration to the with the insurrection began to a]i|)car 

spectacle. The accumulation of horrors on the streets on Wednesday. Pale 

for the past few days, tlu' promenades faces peeped out here and there; shop- 

amonn the heaps of dead and dying, the keepers took down from their dusty 

danger incurred bv merely walking in shutters the proclamations which the 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



487 



Commune hnd pastod upon them ; the 
tricolor was exhibited from every window 
witliin tlie line of the regular troops ; 
squads of cavalry patrolled the streets, 
and the " men of order," who had care- 
fully hidden themselves since their dis- 
comfiture in the Rue de la Paix, on the 
day of their manifestation, were out in full 
force, and beat La Geuerale furiousl3'. 
All of the government people wore tri- 
color badges on their left arms. Guns 
were stacked on the pavements, and tlie 
shopkeepers and rentiers of the Rue de 
la Paix, instead of the marble-workers 
and masons of Belleville, now commanded 
us to paaaer au large. It was curious 
to notice the thirst for blood which 
these fine fellows, who might have 
stopped the insurrection at its outset, 
but who had refraineil from just the 
effort necessary to check it, now mani- 
fested when the regulars had done the worlv . 
The Place VendOnie was occupied by 
the regulars on Wednesday morning. 
Tiie inhabitants of the quarter screamed 
with delight as every new prisoner was 
brought in. ^[en came with their arms 
pinioned behind their liacks, and. as 
they entered the square, and passed 
out of sight of the ferocious, gaping 
crowd, a detonation would be heard, 
and all would be over. The same 
soldiers who had done the execution 
took their way back to their post of duty 
amid the acclamations of the people. 
The otlicers on the court-martials had an 
inductive method of getting at the trutii. 
They were mild in their speecli, and 
would say, "Come, now, friend, you 
mightas well confess." The man, tempted 
by the kindly voice, would own up, after 
UKiuy equivocations, that he had done 
little or nothing. "Yes, but you did 
take part in the insurrection?" and 
when he answered "Yes," his doom was 
at once proncjuneed. 



The kindling of the fires seems to have 
given the property-holders a terrible 
tliirst for blood. If any one ventured to 
say, " That man ought not to be shot: 
he looks like a weak, misguided creat- 
ure," the unhapfiy uuiu who thus |ileaded 
for clemency would lie howled at and 
threatened with arrest if he said any- 
thing further. Faces in these days 
shone with a sort of lurid light. The 
little petty grocer and the great mer- 
chant of lace, the shopkeeper and the 
banker, seemed to think their express 
duty was now tn hoot, kick, strike, and, 
if necessary, kill defenseless prisoners. 
Old wonieu, venerable at least by their 
gray hairs, were called degrading names 
as tlie soldiers jHislied them onto |irison, 
which few left alive. In dozens of cases 
these women were simply looking after 
their husbands or sons, yet they were 
arrested on suspicion of endeavoring to 
lire the ijuarters. Many of the women 
were found with their ajirous filled with 
explosive matches, and the. pet role iine was 
a veritable personage, although her ex- 
ploits were grossly exaggerated. Dead 
men were allowed to rot uncared for, and 
vulgar passers-by pulled the coverlets 
from their faces and made unfeeling 
remarks. Our hearts seemed to revolt. 
Sometimes we could not believe our 
senses, and went about trembling with 
horror. A man coming out of a house 
at the corner of the Rue Pasquier, on 
Wednesday afternoon, was denounced 
as a Communist. He was clean, well- 
dressed, and tranquil. 'l"en ortwelveartil- 
lery officers drew tlieir swords and were 
aljont to cut him down, when it was 
decided to take him to the post in the 
o[iposite street. The crowd grumbled at 
this, and one old man was so angry be- 
cause the soldiers did not shoot the sup- 
l)osed culprit that he tried himself to 
kill him with his stout oaken stick. 



488 



EUROl'E IN STOKM AND CALM. 



Around the church of La Ti'initi'! the 
figlit w;is csinH'ially innrdtMous. (irent 
havoi' w:is uiaik' amoiiji' the iK'autifiil 
statues autl fountains in the cliureii 
square. The trees were ahiiost bare and 
leafless, the fires stripping everytliing. 
Our vice-consul, 3Ir. Aleott, saw from 
iiis windows much of the combat, and 
describes it as apiiallino-. A priest was 
saved by tlie regulars from the hands of 
the insurgents, and tlie (loor old man 
was so overjoyed tluit lie kissed tlie 
whole battalion. 

The barricade on the Place de rO|)era 
was comiiosed of barrels, water-carts, 
and lieaiis of earth and paving-stones. 
It was so arranged as to command tlie 
Boulevard des C'apueiues, the Rues 
Auber and Ilalevy. This, as well as 
the barricade which closed communica- 
tion between the C'liaussee d'Antin and 
the l)oulevard. w;is valiantly delended 
bv the ()iic I liiiidi'ccl :iii<l Seventeeiitli 
Communist battalion. Its guns in some 
measure protected all tlie network of 
liarric.'iilc's between the grand boulevards 
and till' key liarrier on the Boulevard 
Walesherbes, and hindered the progress 
of the regular troo[is aljout twenty-four 
hours. The light at this Opera barri- 
cade was very severe, anil two otHcers 
of the C'oiiiiiumist battalidii. not wishing 
to leave tlieii' guns in the hands of the 
regulars, drew them off themselves, one 
by one, amid a shower of bullets. All 
the Federals were liiiidly forced to retire. 
and then llie inhabitants came out an<l 
welcomed in the icgul.-iis, who descende<l 
by the IJiie ihi llelder. One liner 
mounted to the top of the m-igiiiliceiit 
edifice of the ()pera. tore down the red 
Hag, and, brandishing the tricolor, placed 
it tinally in tlic hand of the gcid Apollo, 
who holds up to the sunlight a golden 
lyre. 

Promenading tiie streets now became 



extremely dangerons. Strangers were 
treated like I'arisians. The National 
(iuai'ds of Older were fretting and fum- 
ing, ;is if anxious for a pretext to kill 
something, and it was unsafe to reason 
with them. One man assured nie that 
live thousand insurgents had been shot 
since the troops entered. I mildly ex- 
pressed doubts. I le called out at once, 
anil tried to collect a crowd about nie, 
but 1 left him post-haste. Towards 
evening the shells fell very rapidly in 
the Place de I'Opera, and a woman who 
was going to the Place Vendonie. as a 
prisonei', was struck down liy a shell from 
the Buttes Chaumont battery. Wounded 
horses added their screams to the cries 
of the wounded men. The front of the 
building in which the ^V'ashillgtoll Club 
was located was half torn away. In the 
glare of the Haiiirs from the jMinistry of 
Finances, as night raine on. one could see 
men andwomi'ii. tied together, and bleed- 
ing from nnmerous wounds, marched 
along, urged foru aid by kicks and blows 
from mnsket-bntts into the Plac,' \'en- 
donie, where they were immediately shot. 
A number of Fieiich and .American 
pei'sons told nir the following incident, 
which I defy any one to read without a 
certain emotion. On Thursday a very 
beautiful vouiig girl, taken in the act of 
scattering intlaniniable matches against 
the houses, was marched down the line 
de la Paix to the Place Vendonie to 
execution. fSlie seemed quite innocent, 
and answered quite quietly when asked 
whiit she was doing, and what she had in 
her apron. " Only some kindlings to light 
mv lire with." Her bi>auty. her elastic 
and courageous step, as she marched to 
execution, did not enlist the women in 
her favor. The woiiieii were much niorr 
terrible in their wrath than the men ; but. 
as she turned and fai'cd the crowd with 
tlashiiii; eve. and as iier long, black hair 



EUROl'E IN t^rORM AND CALM. 



48« 



w 

■T! 

sa 

00 

o 
!^; 



w 
►^ 
c 
fa 




490 



El'UdJ'K IX STORM AXD C.M.M. 



kept waving in the lireczo, nmnvii strong 
iniin shed tears. ^Vn implacalile war of 
thi' poor against the rieh, earrieil now 
to tlie extremity of despair, made the 
young girl rnan-h as prondls- to tlic jilaee 
of execution as if lier cause iiad licen 
won, and Paris were free. 

Tlie military school on the Champ de 
Mars was a favorite (ilace for execu- 
tions. Few prisoners wlio went in there 
came out alive. As fast as the men and 
women entered the doomed precinct, the 
tram|) of a firing platoon and the dis- 
charge of a number of muskets could 
be heard. The bodies were heaped up 
so that new-conu'rs had to cliiiil) over 
them in order to stand at the fatal wall. 
The dead were dragged afterwards to the 
t'hamii de Jlars into trenches. The 
millions of visitors to the great Exhibi- 
tion of 187.S little tliought. as they 
walked on tlie beautiful giceu gi-ass of 
the gardens of the C liami) denials, of 
slaughtered Communists buried below. 
I'roliably some one who had i'ea<l AN'alt 
Whitman's eccentric verses might have 
thought, above the unrecognizable graves, 
of those strauac lines: — 



" Tcnilrrly will 1 use you, curliusj; jjrass. 

It uiay \m you trauspire fr<uu the breasts of 

youHg men ; 
It may be if I liaJ known tbem I would liave 

loved them ; 
It may be you are from oM people and from 

w(nnen, and front offspring taken too soon 

from tlieir mothers' laps. 
They are alive and well somewhere. 
The smallest sprout shows there is really no 

death." 



The history of tlie buining of Paris 
has liceii told, both by the Comnmuisls, 
wholind. in tlieir adroit fashion, a hundred 
apologies lor their action, and by the 
UKjderate Rc[)ulilicaus, some of wliiiin, 
like M. Maxirne Diicnmp, are ;i tiitie 



immoderate in their condemnation. Had 
the regular troo|)S acted with more 
proini)tness, after tlieir arrival, a great 
iinmber of the principal liuildings on the 
left bank of the Seine might have been 
saved from the flames, lint the hesita- 
tion of the reguhir troops is not to lie 
wondered at. The spectacle which con- 
fronted them was enough to appall the 
stoutest hearts. The great clouds of 
smoke from the smouldering II6tel de 
^'!lle and the Tuileries made a sombre 
background to a melancholy picture. At 
:dl the street corners dead instu'geuts lay 
thickly, sometimes piled in little heaps. 
Asking the explanation of this, I was 
told that these were men who had escaped 
into the houses, and wdieu found were 
taken into the street and immediately 
executed. No questions even were asked 
them when they were found w ith weapons 
in their lianils or with powder stains on 
their tingers. The Imllet sang its shrill 
song, and they fell <lead. 

It is W(.irthy of reiiiarlc that in tlie ijuar- 
tci' of Paris extending from the lIAtel 
de \'illc to the Pastille, no hostility to the 
Communists was expressed by non-com- 
batants ; elsewhere the comiilcte ferocity 
of the citizens tpiite surjiassetl anything 
manifested by the soldiers. In the Rue 
du Temple and in the Rue Victix dn 
Temple, dead men of both the Com- 
munal and rcgiihir tirmies were lying 
about a^ plentiful as broken lionghs in a 
forest Ihroligh which a great wind had 
passed. 

( )ii this Wednesday evening a friend 
who walked through the Rue de Rivoli 
announced that he saw women washing 
off the sidewalk in places where the 
blood luid collecteii in little stagnant 
p(jols. They sopped mi the blood with 
wet rags, and, wringing it out into [lails, 
carried it away into the houses. Possibly 
some enterprising speculator proposed 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



491 



to sell or to exliiliit the blooil of the 
victims of the ]\I:iy revolution. 

Around the Palais Koyal, and espe- 
cially in front of the Coniedie Frangaise, 
the scene was heart-rending. Soldiers 
were digging ti'enches in the middle of 
the street, and throwing in the dead in- 
surgents. In front of the barricade in 
the Rue IMontpensier as many as twenty 
were buried. Amateur grave-diggers, 
boys and men, tumbled back the dirt 
and stamped it <towu without a trace of 
emotion on their faces. Nearly at the 
same time some soldiers were skinning 
a horse slain by a shell, and were distribu- 
ting tlie meat to poor people who begged 
for it. ]Mauy members of the working- 
class suffered the pangs of hunger for 
several days during the fight, as the food 
in certain quarters was entirely carried 
off to serve the soldiers who were 
making their way into the heart of the 
insurrection. 

The Jlinistry of Finance, the noble 
colonnades of which occupied an im- 
mense front on the Rue de Rivoli, was 
fired inside on Tuesday night by a 
delegation appointed expressl3- for the 
purpose. The archives in the fifth 
story served as kindling, and in a few 
hours the whole street line was in a blaze. 
Hut when the insurgents had evacuated 
the building, and had been compelled to 
fall liaek from the Place de la Concorde, 
a wine-merchaut on the corner attempted 
to organize a service to save what re- 
mained of the edifice. He was shot at, 
and petroleum shells were thrown to in- 
crease the flames. Towards midnight a 
strong, wild wind came up, fanning the 
flames and discouraging hopes of saving 
anything. A few hours later an at- 
tempt was made by a few determined 
men to save the most imjjortant papers 
concerning the finances of Paris, and 
the great ledger of the city was brought 



out at the risk of their lives by five em- 
ployes. As there are a large number of 
volumes of this precious book, and these 
were stored in an upper room, a chain of 
soldiers was placed on ladders, and the 
tomes containing the whole statement of 
the city's indebtedness were passed from 
hand to hand, until they reached the 
ground. At last the fire became so hot 
that the proceedings were cut short, and 
a large number of the books were thrown 
helter - skelter into the street, whence 
they were picked up by the inhal>itants 
of the quarter and packed in carriages. 

On the Faul)ourg St. Honor(^, one of 
of the most crowded of Parisian thorough- 
fares, the destruction was very great. 
Lnmense warehouses, establishments de- 
voted to articles of luxury and taste, 
flew skywards in clouds of smoke and jets 
of flame. At the entrance of the street 
nearest the Rue de Rivoli the slaughter 
was tremendous. Piled at the Rivoli 
end of the Rue du Luxembourg, on 
Wednesday morning, were one hundred 
and twenty-five dead bodies, brought 
there from various points. Curious 
throngs were constantly gathered at this 
|)lace, and many arrests were made 
among the spectators for expressing their 
opinions too strongly. Near the corner 
of the Faubourg St. Honors and the 
Rue Royale a wine-mcrclmnt was con- 
fined in his cellar, with his wife and little 
girl, driven thither by the intense heat 
of the houses burning around about 
them. The fusillade from the barricades 
in the Rue St. Honor^^ and from the 
Madeleine was so severe that he hardly 
dared venture through what was at best 
crumbling and red-hot ruins, to save his 
wife and child in the open air. At last 
he decided, urged by the screams of the 
child, who was almost literally roasted, 
and, clasping her in his arms, he rushed 
out through the fallinsr walls and under 



4!I2 FJROVE IN STOHM AXD CALM. 

a stdi'iii <if liiilh'th. to ;i |i:issniz:i' licld liy of tlic lieroi's (if tliP Cominminl |inrty. 
a sin.'ill (letaoluiifiit uf gdvcMnmcnt t'scdrtcd l)y a i|iiintt'tto nf woincii. went 
troops. As he elainored at tlie <;ati' for from [lalace to palace sowinji destnietion 
entrance, three men pointed tlieii' <iiins npon their track. The honses of I'icli 
at hiui. '• Kill UK'," lie cried, " liut save refugees were invaded; sei'vanls who 
my child!" Tlic corporal. comprehendin<i' nn<)ertook to save the pictures, the rit'h 
the situation, rnslied forward an<l took fniiiilure, and the silver plate of their 
tlie child in his arms; and the wine- maslci's, were shot down. The ■■ gene- 
merchant, returning into the ruins, sue- rals '" and " colou<'ls," excite<l with 
ceedcd in rescuing his wife also. A few drink, and half mad with tlie sense of 
minutes afterwards the house fell in, and coming danger, issued most extravagant 
the ci liar in which those people had been decrees. It is even said that Megy 
I'oastiiig u as filled with live coals. signed his decrees with the number 

The damage in one house in the Rue which had been stamped upon his prison 
Hoyale was estimated at 700, (100 francs, uniform, as if thus casting defiance in 
The general stafl' of I he insurgents had a the face of the society which had con- 
grand banquet at a restaurant in this denuieil him temiiorarily to lose his 
street on the night of tlie entry of the citizenship, and to be reduced to the level 
regular troops, and they drank confusion of a mere numeral. Long wagon-trains, 
to INI. Thiers in no less than three hundred filled with barrels of pi'troleum. were 
bottles of chanijiagne. In one of the ranged in regular order in the cfnirt-yanls 
houses on the corner of the line Koyale of the buildings marked Cor burning; 
and the Faubouig-, those who had hidden and, as the Communists retreated slowly 
ill the cellars on the Monday when the up the left liank of the Seine, fiyiug from 
light liegan, to avoid service in the in- barricade to barricade before the ap- 
surgiMits' ranks, were all suffocated, proaching vengeance of the honrgcoisip. 
The owner of one of the huge sho[)S they applied the torch with as much 
liurned on the Rue Royale was found earnestness and joy as if they had been 
raving ill the street on the ruins of his sacking an enemy's citadel. The beauti- 
fortunc. His loss had (jnite turned his ful pictures of Fhindrin and Eugene De- 
brain. It was said that one of the lacroix were deluged with mineral oil. 
fashionable clubs in this street only cs- Barrels of this oil were poured down 
capeil linrning through the sagacity of staircases ami through corridoi's, and 
some servants, who gave the soldier hundreds <if thousands of nianuscri|its 
charged with the firing so much wine that belonging to the archives, audited ac- 
hf ipiitc forgot his diitv. rouuls, memoirs of iinportaul llnaiicial 

There is no d<inlit that the Communists transactions, were trampled into tlie oozy 
intended to make a com|ilete wreck of mass into whicli the Comnmnists, in 
the Faubourg St. Germain. Maxime I)u- their drunken fury, lin-cl their revolvers 
camp has left oil record a verv concise and and threw live co;ils and matches. iM. 
careful narrative of the ruin of the Palace .fnles \'all>'s, who. after taking a pronii- 
of the Legion of Honor, the Couik il of uent part in the Commune, escaped. 
State, the Cour des Comptes ; and it is piiblished, shortly before the entry of 
startling to note with what coolness the regular troops, in his journal, called 
(ieneral Eudes and INIegy, the ferocious, the ^•('ri (hi Penph'." the following state- 
half-educated workman who became one ment : '-All measures have been taken 



EUROrE IN STORM AND CALM. 



4!);5 



to prevent the entry into Paris of any 
iniinical soldier. Tiie ramparts may l)e 
battered down, but no soldiers will get 
into Paris. If M. Thiers is a chemist 
lie will qnite comprehend us. Let the 
army of Versailles recollect that Paris is 
decided to undertake everything rather 
than surrender." The employment of 



to find Paris a kind of second Rome, 
with ruins on every hand. In fact, the 
Cour des Comptes is almost the only 
remnant of the C'omnuinist fury left as 
it was in that dreadful week. It is 
presently to be converted into a museum 
of industrial art. During the Connimne 
it. was occupied by the delegate of the 




CHILDREN OF TIIE COMMUNIST PRISONERS KATINIi SOUP WITH THE VERSAILLES SOLDIERS. 



dynamite had been suggested to tlie Com- 
mune ; but that powerful political agent 
had not yet attained the celebrity which 
it now possesses, and the incendiaries 
and anarchists of the epoch were obliged 
to resort to i)etroleuin and to the torch. 
It was Tuesday evening when the 
palace of the Council of State and the 
Cour des Comptes was Hred. The 
Cour des Comptes has long been a 
place of pilgrimage for the trans- Atlan- 
tic tourists who go abroad expecting 



Council of State, who, only a few days 
before the entry of the regular troops, 
was sent to Marseilles on a revolution- 
ary mission, where he was arrested by 
agents from Versailles. It was thought 
by the regulars that the Council of State 
palace was Ijurned liy the lil'ty -seventh, 
sixty-seventh, and one hundred and 
thirty-fifth battalions of insurgents, who 
had occupied it ; and therefore wher- 
ever these gentry weie found during the 
fight they received no quarter. 



494 



EUROTE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



A \vi 1111:111 who wont l.iy the name of 
j\I:i(l:iiiic Kudos, tlie fomale eompaiiiou 
of till' C'oiniiiunist general, gave nuiiu'V- 
otis festivals at the Legion of Honor 
palace, wliidi was her comrade's head- 
quarters, ihiriiig the brief reign of the 
insurrection, and some of these fesli\nls 
are said tci have been orgies quite be- 
yond the power of description. Jladaiiie 
Elides was wont to descend iiit(j the 
conrt-yard t(j shake hands with all the 
soldiirs on guard, taking pains to an- 
nounce that they might converse with 
her freely, and might never salute. " I 
am a daughter of the people," she said. 
The Paris jduruals related that slie and 
other w-oiuen connected with the Com- 
mune had pillaged the wardrobe of the 
beautiful and fashionable Marquise de 
Oalliffet, and that they used to appear 
in her dresses ; but this is probalily 
untrue. 

Around the palace above mentioned, 
the Rue de Lille was horiibly devas- 
tated by sliot, shell, and tire. In the 
Fauliourg St. Germain one of the noted 
clubs was nearly wrecked by the Ver- 
saillais batteries, [ilaying from Tro- 
cadcro. ( )ne very singular illustration 
of the damage that can be caused by a 
single bullet occurred in a mansion next 
the Agricultur;d club. A bullet pierced 
a reservoii- in the fifth story wliicli con- 
tained ten thousand litres of water. The 
upper story of the house was inun- 
dated, and thousands of francs' worth 
of furniture injured before the owners 
below knew of the small deluge. The 
coullagratiim in the Ivue dii Bac, on the 
left bank of the Seine, was one of the 
most disastrous caused by the desjiair 
and malice of the insurgents. It is said 
that (uMieral Eudes and Megy them- 
selves fired tlu' iirst houses in this 
([iKirti'i-, wishing to inaugurate tliis great 
and formidable attack on [iroperty, and 



tf> have their names handed down in 
history as prime movers in these 
filial tragedies. Whole houses were 
destroyed, gulleys ran up and down 
across the street, and dead bodies lay 
in the doorways and at corners, de- 
caying in the hot sun. Hereabouts, the 
<irdiiiary method of liring houses was 
liy [louring petroleum from the w'indows 
on the sidewalks, and then hurling down 
burning masses (jf rags or matches 
into the cellars. The Luxembourg 
palace owed its safety to the prelimi- 
nary exiilosion of the powder-magazine, 
established thereby. This frightened 
away a large number of men who were 
sent to lire the ancient home of the 
Medieis. The noble and beautiful Sainte 
C'Ii:i|ielle, wlu're old Boileau lies en- 
tombed, miraculously escaped wreck in 
the midst of the ruin of the Palais de 
Justice. The noted prison of the Cou- 
cicrgerie, so famous in the old Revolu- 
tion, was badly damaged, but the regu- 
lars came too quickly into this neigh- 
Ijorhood to allow the complete ac- 
coiii|ilishnient of the Communists' evil 
designs. 

On this fatal day, the 24th of May, 
at the close of which the good Arch- 
bishop and his comrades in misfortune 
were destined to be murdered, the 
oflicial journal of the Conmuiiie piili- 
lished an extract from another radical 
journal, warning the insurrectionists 
agaiiit any violence to the ju'lesthood, 
sa\ iug that its only result would be fiftv 
years more of clericalism. But the men 
who iiiitiiit have listene(l to reason, had 
the regular troops still been without the 
fortifications, thought, now that disaster 
and probable death were at their gates, 
of nothing but revenge. j\I. Thiers 
came into T'aris on this AVeduesday, and 
I'emained an hour, and it is even said 
that he or Marshal ]\IacMahon, who had 



EUROT'E IN STORM AXD CALM. 



495 






o 

w 



o 
K 

3 

o 
o 

g; 
e 



H 

H 



E3 
Q 

o 



o 



o 

21 




49(; 



Ernup!-: ix sronjf a\/) calm. 



been inl'nris siiiiT tin' in'i'vioiis Sunibiv, 
ought to have taken more vigorous inca.s- 
ures to have ri'sciu'il tlio ArrhMshop 
from the imiiiiiicnt peril in whic-li lie was 
plaeeil. When the news of the exeeu- 
tion of the hostages was uniiouneeil in 
llie fashionalile cjuarters along the 
grand houlevanls, and in the Kue de la 
Paix. the exeitenient was very great. 
Men went about tlie street cursing the 
insnri-eetion in loud and bitter toni's, 
and whenever a, jirisonor was brought in 
on his way to the Plaee Vcndonie, they 
would rush out and strike him with their 
eanes. iMr. Waslilmine, our Ameriean 
minister, took' constant and careful 
measures in the .\rchbislio|>'s behalf 
during the whole of this tei'rilile week, 
luitil the fat-;d Wednesday night, lb' 
himself has given a most interesting ac- 
count of his visits to the distinguished 
[irelate, and of the fortitude and sweet- 
ness of temper displayed liy him in such 
circumstances of deadly peril. A little 
energy, wliich had been lacking in France 
since the creation of the Second Kmpire, 
might have saved the worthy Art'hbisho|i 
from the liorrors of a brutal death. The 
most remarkable version of the execn- 
tion of the Arelibishol) and his compan- 
ions was given on the authority of a JMr. 
Girard, who succeeded in escaping from 
the prison where tlie prelate had been 
confined. lie said, " Monsigneui- Darboy 
occupied cell number twenty-one of the 
fourth division (this was at the cele- 
brated pi'ison of Mazas), while I was 
conlincd in munber twenty-six. The 
ArchI>isho|i had been allowed a talile 
and a chair. — furniture of which the oth^r 
cells were destitute. On the L'-lth of 
May. at half-past seven in the evening, 
the director of the ])risou, a certain Le- 
francais, who had lieen six years a gal- 
ley slave, came into the [jrison with fifty 
men, and oceui)ied the gallery where the 



princi|ial prisoners were stationed. A 
short time after this an otiicer advanced 
t(.) the Archbishop's cell, and in a low 
voice called him by name. 

•■ The prelate answered, ' Present.' 

"The oflicer then jiassed to the cell of 
the Presidi'Ut Pxinjcan : next called the 
Abbe Allard, member of the Inteni.a- 
tional Society for Aiding the Wounded ; a 
number of other priests; the Ablie De- 
guerry, <■»/•(' nf the Matleleine. Ko 
sooner had each jirisoner answered to bis 
name than he was led through the gallery 
and down the staircase, and conducted to 
the Surveillance, on the other side, where 
insurgent guards insulted the i)risoners 
and called them names which I cannot 
repeat. 

" They were then taken into the court- 
yard near the iulirmaiy. The Arch- 
bishop advanced towards the platoon of 
execution, which he clearly saw at a 
little distance from him, and, speaking 
very quietly, aihlre.ssed a U'W words of 
[lardon. Two men at once ran up to 
him, and before their connades, kneeled, 
imploi'ing his blessing. The other in- 
surgents then fell upon them and pushed 
them back, insulting them. The com- 
mandant in the yard swore a frightful 
oath. ' iNIen,' he said, ' you are here to 
slioot t^iese })eople. anil not to listen to 
and howl with them ■ ' The insurgents 
then obeyed tlii' orders to load their guns. 

■• The Abl)e .Mhird was placed against 
the wall lirst and fell dead. Monseigu- 
enr Darlioy then calmly took his place, 
and fell, almost without a groan. The 
six prisoneis were thus sh<it, only the 
Abbe Deguerry showing a moment's 
feebleness, which nnrst be attributed to 
the state of his health. 

•' The bodies were at once conveyed in 
a railway van to the cemetery of Vbra 
Ta Chaise, where they were placeil in 
what is called the ' common ditch ; ' and 



EUROPE l.\ STORM AXD CALM. 



497 



the in:iTia;led corpses were left uncovered. 
The platoon of execution was taken 
from the One Hun<lred and Eighty-first 
and Two Hundred and .Sixth lialtalions 
of the National Guards, which acconnts 
for the ferocity shown by the liners 
against the men of these battalions when 
later on they were lirought in as i>ris- 
oners." 

Not less brutal and infinitely more 
affecting is the recital of the massacre 
of the Dominican brothers at tiie jjrison 
in the Avenue d'ltalie. The story is 
told by the only one of the brethren 
who escaped. These twelve apostles 
of patient, unrequited labor — men 
of excellent intelligence and education 
— had been arrested at a school in 
Paris. The nuns employed as teachers 
in this scliool were sent to the prison for 
conunon women, and the brethren to the 
fort of Bicetre, where they were lodged 
in the casemate. They were then 
brought into Paris ; and while being taken 
through the Gobelins quarter they were 
several times threatened witli death by 
the populace, but were finally lirought to 
tiie above-mentioned prison. About 
two o'clock on Thursday, as they were 
praying together, an officer entered and 
said grossly, " Siu'pliccs, forward ! y(ju 
are to be conducted to the barricades." 
They followed mutely, and found at the 
bar'ricade such au intense fire that the 
inhabitants abandoned it, taking back 
thrir victims with tliem. Al)ont an 
hour afterwards they were again sum- 
moned to the street, and here an ofiicer 
of the One Hundred and First Battalion 
ordered his men to load their muskets, 
and then came the cry : " Enter the 
street one by one ! " 

They knew this was their death-war- 
rant, and therefore took adieu of each 
otli"r. " Come, brethren," said the 
father prior, " come to the good God ! " 



and he went out, slnitting the door after 
hiin. A shot was heard, and the next 
brother who went out saw, as he felt the 
fatal liuUet, the venerable prior bathed 
in blood. Tlie brother who escaped 
oidy succeeded by simulating death, a 
bullet having grazed iiim. and lie laid 
quietly among the slain until the execu- 
tioners had gone away, when he ran 
into a side street, where a charitable 
woman concealed him until the arrival 
of the Versailles troops. 

On the Tuesday after the entry of the 
regulars, the two hundred other host- 
ages C(jnfined in Mazas prison were 
taken to La Rxxpiette, known as the 
prison of the condemned. On the fol- 
lowing day seventy-four were shot, and 
out of two hundred and four gendarmes 
confined in other prisons, one hundred 
and sixty-nine Jiad been designated for 
execution. On Thursday the Versailles 
troops arrived just in time to save them. 
It will be seen from this that it is not 
too niucli to say that the Commime, at 
its close, was on the verge of inaugurat- 
ing a reign of terror. 

It is l)Ut justice to add that all the 
high military officers of the Counuuiie — 
all who Hieiited the name of officer — 
considered the arrest of the i)riests as 
an outrage, and understood how com- 
pletely the damning violence used 
against these good men would react 
upon the insurrection. General C'lu- 
seret had especially incurred the t'oui- 
muuists' displeasure because of his 
intervention in the cause of the Arch- 
l)ishop. It was frequently said during 
the insurrection that the Communists 
intended to take and hold the cori-e- 
spoudents of foreign journals resident in 
Paris as hostages, and M. Miot. a pict- 
uresque figure in the Communal as- 
sembl}', once actnallj' proposed this 
measure. Whether the Communists 



498 EUROrE IN STORM AXD CALM. 

imagined tliiit liy this tliuy ooiild (•oiiti'ol jounialist was shot on tho evening of 
opinion may now never be known. Tlie the 24th of May, Raoul Rigault .stand- 
murder of CUistave C'haudey, one of tlie ing by the executing phitoon witli ;l 
editors of tlie '• tSu'dc," who liad been drawn sword, and cursing the men be- 
held as a hostage, seems to have been eau.se they did not do their work more 
actuated by a desire for vengeance on raiiidly. 

the part of Raoul Rigault, the celebrated The military operations of the govern- 

Comniunist chief of police. C'haudey ment in I'aris lasted exactly seven days, 

was confined at St. Pelagic, the old Im- hour for hour. The entry of the lirst 

pei-ial (irisou for jdurnalists and pcilifiral troojis was effected on the afternoon of 

offenders, and his friend. Cernuschi, the Sunday, May 21st, at four o'clock. On 

noted Italian, who has adopted Paris as that eventful day they were traversing 

his home, came very near to violent the bridge at the Point du Jour, and at 

death himself at the hands of the en- four o'clock on Sunday, May the 2.Sth, the 

i-aged soldiery when he went to inteicede last insurgent barricade at Belleville was 

for Chaudev's life. 'Tlie unfuitunate taken. 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



499 



CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE. 



The New Fight of tlie Bastille. - 



-Tiic llotfl (le Ville. — The Picturesque ami r)r:irnatic' Kpisotlcs of tlic 
(ireat Battles. 



THE red flag fluttered at the top of 
tlie eohimii in the IHace de la Bas- 
tille until late Saturday afternoon. Mer- 
curj', who seemed springing lightly' from 
his elevated perch, up and away from 
bloodshed and lun'uiug, jiekl the ban- 
ner, which could be distinctly seen 
from many points in the centre of the 
city, while the fight was still raging 
around the site of the old Bastille. 

Once diiveu from the barricades around 
the H6tel de Ville, the insurgents made 
up their mind to a desperate stand in 
the quarters of the city where the in- 
surrection was born. No one attempted 
to revive the historic ferocity of the 
Faubourg Saint Antoine ; not even the 
feeblest resistance was made there. 
Belleville, the Buttes Chaumont and the 
cemetery of Pere La Chaise wore selected 
as the localities in wliich to make the 
last effort. The people of La ^'illette had 
been driven nearly to desperation during 
the third and fourJi days of the fight, 
by the return ujion them of the beaten 
insurgents from Montmartre and its 
environs, and the determined efforts of 
the troops to dislodge them. Many 
houses at La Villette were liurned, and 
dozens of innocent people lost their 
lives by shot and shell coming from the 
batteries and ))arricades of both com- 
batants. On Wednesday the shells from 
Montmartre did terrible execution at 
Belleville ; but the Connnunists, feeling 
strong in the knowledge tliat the bar- 
ricades of the Chateau-d' Eau were still 



held, refused to retreat, although en- 
treated by hundreds of families, who 
saw almost imminent death before them. 
Suspicion began, however, to do its terri- 
ble work among the Bellevillians, and 
tlie oflBcers found every morning that 
some man had been shot by his com- 
rades for having ostensibly aided the 
enemy. On Thursday, an arlillcryuiau 
came to a battery at a little distance 
from his own, and pointed a gun or two. 
He was immediately arrested and shot, 
the men who did the deed insisting that 
he was a Versaillais in disguise. On 
this same day, also, quite an expedition 
was organized with the hope of retaking 
Moutmartre, but the men linally refused, 
considering it certain death, and that 
their principal duty was to " defend their 
hearthstones." On Friday there was a 
grand procession of pi'iests going to 
execution through Belleville — a species 
of parody of the great triumphal rides 
to the guillotine of '93. There were 
twelve priests and a few gendarmes, say 
the eye-witnesses, and the unfortunate 
hostages were shot in the Rue Haxo, 
with quite a crowd looking on. Friday 
night the terror which had electrified the 
aristocratic quarters on Tuesday and 
Wednesday had spread to Belleville, 
and the Grand Docks, or Custom House 
of Paris, was in flames. The fire spread 
rapidh' to the borders of the grand canal, 
on which the docks are situated, and 
whole magazines, filled with oil and other 
combustibles, went up in sheets of yellow 



;500 



F.rnOl'E IN STORM AXD CALM. 



Ilame. Towanl niidiiiiilit. larii'i' ilctncli- 
meiits of C'Dinniunisls arrivcil on the 
MOLMie of the coll narration. Few such 
iniseralile :ui<l heart-rending processions 
have <'verl>een seen on tlie [lavements of 
Paris. Haggard, worn, frightened at 
the deatli only a few liours distant, dirty, 
hmigry, and many of them (hunk, the 
oftii-ers found it dillicnlt to I'ally the men 
to retreat. •' Let ns lie down and die," 
said tliey ; and many preferred to remain 
and "see the ])eopl(^"s vengeance exe- 
cuted," meaning the tires. 

The defense of the aiiproaciies to tlie 
liastille was very thorough and strongly 
kept up. liarricades at tlie entrance of 
the Boulevard de Strasbourg had been 
taken by the regidars, but the insurgents 
had intrenelied tiiemselves in the Eastern 
IJailway station, at tlie head of that 
lioulevard, and made a terrible tight. 
^^'ileu they were at last dislodged, it was 
at llie cost of miicli life on both sides. 
At the Chateau d'Eau liie resistance took 
on tremendous projiortions, owing to the 
presence of some of the leaders of the 
t'ommune and the di'speratioii of the 
insuigents as point after point was swept 
away. Tliey had estalilished [lowerful 
batteries in tliis grand si|iiare, wiiich has 
in it one of the largest liarracks in Paris, 
and a huge structure known as the con- 
solidateil sliops, wliich was partiallv 
l)iu'nt during the fight. Tlie l)oidevards 
from the CliAteaii d'Eau dcjwn to the line 
Itoyali' showed how fierce was the 
.sliower of missiles that the insurgents 
si'iit. Trees were mown down, lamp- 
posts cut short off , fronts of liouscs taken 
out, whole roofs sunk in, statues disem- 
bowelled, and <vr/"As- gutted. I was at 
the barricade of the Porte St. Denis, 
hell! by the governiiient troops, on 
Tlnirsday afternoon, at four o'clock, and 
the insiii'geiits were then throwing hn'iti-^ 
i) tuilruiUe (shells eoutaiiiing an hundred 



liullets) in such profusion that I con- 
sidereil it prudent to retire. The barri- 
cade built across the boulevards at the 
Porte St. JIartin Theatre was one of 
thi' strcuigest erected, but on Wednes- 
day night, when the cannonade had 
weakened the <lefenscs, the Communist 
leaders gave orders for the Imrning of 
the quarter, and the celebrated theatre 
of the Porte St. Martin, and many other 
notcii m:insiniis near it. were burned 
to the ground. The tight continued 
through the night at the Chateau d'Eau, 
and on Thursdav morning the unfortu- 
nate defenders heard that the Pantheon 
hid been taken after a desperate struggle ; 
that the Oobelins had been surrendered, 
and that a strong column was now ojierat- 
ing in that remote quarter of Paris, 
covering the ground with corjises, and 
shutting up one of the most effectual 
avenues of escape. The forts of Bic6tre 
and Ivry, which the Communists had 
boasted of as final strongholds, were 
thus taken out of the insurgent hands, 
and the garrisons were called upon to 
surrender at discretion. IJicetre's com- 
mander refused, and the fort was taken 
by assault: wliile Cxcneral Wrobleski, 
after snlniiitting to a desperate liombard- 
meiit, blew up his powder magazine, and 
then surrendered six thousand men into 
the hands of those from whom they could 
expect no mercy. 

It would hardly serve the purpose of 
this narrative to recount fully the ma- 
nieuvres by which the whole of the left 
bank of the Seine was tinally, on Thurs- 
day, put into the possession of the gov- 
ernment troo[)s. The tragic interest 
deejiens with startling intensity from the 
moment when the Hotel de Ville, a 
flaming ruin, was surrounded on three 
sides by the regulars. Thenceforward, 
the history of the Commune's resistance 
is tilled with nothing save disaster, which 



EUROPE IX firOR.M AXD CALM. 



501 



Followed fast and followed faster," 

until the sullen culmination. 

Tiio Hotel de Ville was then encom- 
passed thus : Towards tlie Seine, tlie 
corps of General Cisse}" hail cairied 
the barricades of the Pont Neuf and 
taiien possession of tlie island and the 
cathedral of NOtre Dame ; on the right, 



of Marshal MacBIalion would h.ave 
triumphed ; the insurfi'cnts would be 
crowded back into tlie narrow tract of 
tlie Buttes Chaumontand Pi're la Chaise, 
and would be crushed between the Prus- 
sians and the eonveroiiig effort of tlu; 
whole regular army. 

Tiie Ch.ltean d'Eau was, therefore, the 
last point of central resistance. The 




BURNING OF THE H(°ITEL DE VILLE. 



the troops had attacked a barricade 
defended well for a time at the Pointe 
St. Eustache. and after encountering a 
frightful resistance, had carried it ; and 
the middle column, coming straight tmv- 
ard the late stronghold of rebellion, had 
already passed the Lou\re. 

Nothing was left, then, for the insur- 
gents but to make their grand, bold stand 
at the ChAteau d'Eau. Once lost there, 
they knew that the military moveiueuts 



regulars did not hesitate to call it the 
" Key to Belleville." 

On Thursday the approaches of tlie 
regular army may be resumed as fol- 
lows : The corps of Generals C'lincli- 
aut and Douay rallied bj- the boulevards 
of Magenta, St. Denis, and St. Martin, 
and from the Temple rpiarter. On the 
left wing, Ladmirault's corps opiT-ated 
against La Chapelle and La Villette, and 
General Viiioy, crossing the Seine with 



502 



tniiDl'F. IN STOIiM AM) CALM. 



Ills men, w;is creopino- towards the Bas- 
tille, ijuile in the rear of the C'hAteaii 
trKau. 

All around the gigantic square, and in 
it, the carnage was fearful. Thursday 
afternoon and evening the struggle cul- 
minated. ( (n the liarrieade, Friday 
luiirning. amid a heap of twenty or thirty 
(ithrr e-iirpses. the body of Delesehize 
was p(iintc(l (int. He was dressed in 
simple morning costume, with polished 
lioots and heaver hat, and had evideutiv 
prep;ired liimscU' with care, thinking that 
he would he captureil. He was killed 
at the barricade, while urging on his men 
to a more energetic resistance. The 
ball, which struck him in the forehead, 
killed him instantly. Delesehize seems 
never to have made any attempt to go 
away. He intended to die at his post, 
and dill so. For days fiefore he was 
eoinprllcd to HiM> iVom the ]Ministry of 
\\ ai' lie haidly e\er quitted his work- 
room. He tlii'ew himself on a mattress 
which laid upon the tlooi' near his work- 
table, and took lirlle naps of half an 
liour's duration, then cast himself again 
with fury on his task. His counte- 
nance in death bore a painful exi)res- 
sioii of luute iles|iair. He was an old 
man. who h.ad been roughly used in the 
woiid, whose kindness had been tni'ued 
to bitterness by exile, and whose health 
had beiMi completely broken by mental 
and ph\sical suffering. His men seem 
to have made no effort to remove 
his body, and the regulars found it 
Friday morning. Delesehize was iden- 
tified by the fact that a very peiailiai' 
(■ane. which he was known to h.ave car- 
ried twenty years, was gras|ied in the 
dead man's stitfeiii'd hand. ( )n his [ler- 
won were found a hii'ge number of lettei's, 
some of wliii-h were from women, warn- 
ing him that he ran risk of being poi- 
soned, etc. There were also amono his 



papers a lunnlier of orders, of which the 
following is a fair specimen : — 

Citizen HilliLTC, at tlie lieaii of one hun- 
dred and fiiiy fuSL'ens, will burn the suspected 
houses and all the public monuments on the 
right banlc of the Seine. 

Citizen Vesinier, with fifty men, is specially 
charged with the boulevards from the Made- 
leine to the Bastille. 

These citizens must arrani^e witli the eliicfs 
of the barricades fur tlie execution of the 
orders. 

Paris, 3 I'rairial, An 7'.). 



This order is signed liy Delesi'luze, 
Ranvier, Vesinier, Brunei, ami Dombrow- 
ski. Others concern the burning of 
houses from which people might have 
been seen Hring upon the barricades. 

The bodies were strewn so thickly 
aliout the square of the C'lnlteau d'Eau 
that on Sunday, three days after the 
capture of the locality, uuiny corpses 
were still lying under the branches of 
trees, which had been strewn to impede 
the enemy's jirogress. Severe hand-to- 
hand fighting occurred at the Porte St. 
Martin, or not far from the square, on 
this Thursday. One young man, who 
had ensconced himself in a sort of re- 
cess in the arch, from whence, high 
above the crowd, he could fire at his lei- 
sure upon it, remained iu his [lerch after 
his companions had retreated, aiul killed 
half-a-dozen soldiers before the regulars 
succeeded ill gcll iiig up where tlicy coiild 
shoot him. The insurgents piled their 
dead bodies in veritable revolutionary 
style on the liarricades ; anclwheii the 
tremendous artillery duel of Thurs(hiy 
night was over, the spectacle was sick- 
ening. Cluseret was saiil to have I)een 
shot on Thursday evening, in the retreat 
from the barricades of the Porte St. 
^Martin : but he mysteriously made his 
apiiearance at the apartment of an old 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



503 



and neutral friend on that day, sub- 
seqnontly escaped from the walls of 
Paris, and now lives in Constantinople. 
A friend of mine, on whom he called, 
told me that, finding nothing could be 
done in that quarter for his safety, Clu- 



seret rose coolly, gave a pleasant smile 
and hand-shake, and marched down tiie 
staircase as if going to breakfast, al- 
though his life would not have been 
worth a rush if any one had chanced to 
recognize him outside the house. 



504 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR. 

The Red-cat from (Uc C'hatoau iFEaii. — lliiius uf (lie Ilotul lU' Villc. — The IJuiniiiL,' of Impintaiit Pu|iers 
— rifliiot. — The Third l^orioil of tlic (ircat Seven Days' ri;^ht. — .Vt the Btittcs (_1iatiiuoiit. 



THE regiilais took sixty mitrailleuses 
at tliL' ChAtcati d' Eaii, and coii- 
veyt'd them to the Place de la Bourse, 
where tiiey were proudly exhiliited as 
coiuitiered arms. The cannon which 
the insiiriieiits employed during the 
tliirty-six hours of tiieir defence at this 
point did fearful execution on the houses 
at the Porte Saint-JIartin siile. Dozens 
of C'oinimniists hid in houses along the 
square during the retreat, and were 
ferreted out and shot as fast as foinnl. 
The great fountain in the middle of the 
square was filled with petroleum, and a 
solid shot liad knocked one of the gigan- 
tic bronze lions into the oily pool. The 
cross lire under which the regular troops 
had to traverse the place was horrilile. 
JNIauy a red breeches was killed in the 
march over the scattered lioughs. 

The (ight had i'ontiiuie(l up the grand 
lionlevard Sebastoiiol all day Thursday, 
and down the r>oule\ard Magenta from 
the chiuvh of Saint-Laurent, so recently 
made famous b^' the pretended discovery 
of skeletons of young girls there. Can- 
non from all sides poured shot and 
shell iut<) the retreating insurgents, and, 
phniging througii tlie n^ofs of honsi's, 
murdered |ie(ji)le. who asked nothing 
better than to fly from the scene of such 
horrois. jMaiiy citizens actually' died 
fri>ui flight diu'ing the combat. The 
most relialile accounts say that some 
starve(l t<i death in the cellars to which 
they wer<' (b'iviMi by f<':ir of the shells ; 
and sometimes the hartnless occui)ants 



of some of these cellars would be startled 
liy the inroad of excited soldiers, seeking 
an antagonist who had taken refuge in 
the house. A word, a retort in such a, 
case, was enough to i>rocure for one's 
self a s|icedy execution, with one's face 
turned to the wall of his own house. 

Friday morning the retreat from the 
Chateau d' Eau was cousmnmated. The 
army's task was now comparatively easy. 
It consisted in surrounding the insur- 
gents at the extreme end of the city, at 
a point where they could not ho|)e to 
escape from the walls, and forcing them 
to unconditional surremler. 

Friday morning tiie same unvarying 
sunshine ; the same thunder of cannon ; 
terrorism concerning incendiaries, and 
the red llag still dying from the Bastille 
colnnm. 

The Hotel de Ville was a lovely ruin. 
Foiu' essentially popular and successful 
governments li;ive been installed there. 
The first was the " Connnnne " of the 
last century, which, majestic and fei'o- 
cious, occupied the halls from the lOtU 
of August, 17'JL', to Ihe 27th of July, 
171t;!. The second was the Provisional 
government of '48, from February -\ to 
May I. The third was the government (jf 
National Uefense, which, founded on the 
ruins of the Second Empire, dragged 
out a. shifty existence in a time of siege 
and starvation ; and llie fonrtli was the 
last ('onnnuue of Paris, which violently 
took possession of the Hotel on the l'.)lh 
of March, 1S71, and left the edifice in 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



505 



flames on the 23cl of May. This 
ijreat Communal monument owes the 
phxcing of its corner-stone to tlie i)ro- 
vost of merchants under Francis I. 
The eereniouy occurred on the 15th 
of July, 1533, and the ground had 
then but just lieen cleared of tlie ruins 
of tlie famous Mai.son aux Piliers, which 
dated among tlie most ancient buildings 
of the city. Dominique Baccaro was 
the arcliitpct who designed the pristine 
form of the structure, and Jean Asselin, 
"Master of Public Works to the City," 
was charged with the execution. In 
1550 only one story was completed, and, 
strangely enough, the civil wars wliicli 
then desolated France were the main 
cause of a delay which little jjleased the 
architects. Finally, in 1005, new minds 
modified the long-neglected designs, and 
the Hotel gradually took form. Two 
centuries after, in ISOl, the church-hos- 
pital of tile Holy Spirit, and the Com- 
munion of the Churcii of St. Jolin 
were consolidated with the IlOtel de Ville 
edifice, and thirty years after the work 
of denKjlishing all tlie houses in tlie 
iiiiinediate vicinity was undertaken. It 
lasted live years, and the result was one 
of the finest architectural effects in Paris. 
Is'a[)oleon III. increased tliis effect by 
widening the space, and by making the 
modern buildings around the ornate and 
idinaiitic old Hotel of an extreme sim- 
[ilicit\-. The interior of the building was 
mucli more richly ornate than are any of 
the (Tallic palaces. Each chief of the 
Parisian municipality had for centuries 
devoted his attention to enriching the 
various halls with memorials of his time. 
Painting, sculpture, and fuiiiiture liere 
all si)oke the languages of an hundred 
previous decades and thousands of indi- 
vidual tastes. The arms of Paris — a 
galley floating — with the legend FIiic- 
tucU nee mergitur, were, it is supposed, 



carried away before the flames broke out 
in the Hcitel de Ville. Possibly, how- 
ever, the Communists preferred to have 
even that precious memento destroyed, 
because it had a taint of Ciesarism. 

In this building, so many years ago 
that only great troubles cause the re- 
membrance of it, Mirabeau stood up and 
said, " I consider the National (iuard of 
Paris an obstacle to the reestablishinent 
of order. Mo.st of its chiefs are meiii- 
liers of the Jacol)ins, and, carrying the 
principles of that Society among tlicii- 
soldiers, they teach them to obey the 
people as the prime authority. These 
troops are too numerous to take any 
vajirit de corps; too wedded to the citi- 
zens to allow the least latitude to royal 
authority ; too feelile to oppose a grand 
insurrection; and too facile to corru|it, 
not en masse, but individually, not to lie 
an instrument always at the will of the 
factions." 

What Mirabeau said then was strictly 
true of the National Guard whicli 
Father Thiers decided to dissolve. Tlie 
Hotel de Ville in ruins ; the National 
Guard dissolved and disarmed ; the 
Communal Committee of Public Safety 
dispersed or dead ; the generals of the 
guards lying on hospital stretchers or 
heaps of corpses ; the final, grand, 
desperate effort of the people shaping 
itself in the " eccentric quarters." All 
was, indeed, over. 

That same day, after the fight had 
begun at Belleville, a captain of regu- 
lars, after having, with his men, con- 
quered a barricade, found one of the 
many prisoners who were to lie shot ap- 
pealing to him. •• Listen, caiitain !" 
said he : "I have a watch in my pocket 
which belongs to the rownerrie across the 
w.ay. He gave it to me for safe-keeping 
several days ago. Let me return it be- 
fore I die 1 " 



50(j EUROPE IX STOR.U AXD CALM. 

The captain had liot'orc him a little ary leaders. He could find money, by 

l>lack-eycd hul of fifteen, erect, and legitimate or violent means, when no 

evidently not afraid. He thought the one else could. The " delegate to the 

poor child desired a pretext for escape, Ministry of Finances," Jourde, only 

and, tired iif his bloody work, he said : obeyed Piquet. He was also extremely 

•• Yes. begone, little scoundrel ! " violent in his desires for an attack on 

But just as the captain and his platoon property, and had formed the [ilan of 

of executioners had tak( n the lives of liurning all the papers of the various 

the other prisoners, llie lad came tjaek, credit societies, the notaries, and the 

running, placed himself liefore the great corporations, that the Paris world 

lilo(xly wall, and said, "Here 1 am — • might start anew. He desired to level 

ready ! " everything, believing that the iniquities 

No soldiers would fire at him, and the of society arose from the unecpial dis- 

captain once mori' dismissed him, tears tril)ution of property and the tyrannies 

standing iu eyes, which ojiened wide at connected with the manipulation of large 

sucli exhiliition of Udliility of character, capital. 

Promenading among the ruins of One da}', almost immediatel}' after his 
Wednesday and Thursday was not es- plan for liurning all these innnensely 
pecially safe, but |iroductive of much valuable papers had lieen mentinncd in 
reverv. One remembered the great re- the C'omnuuie, a well-known French 
view that took place befon; the HAtel de gentleman, having no sympathy with the 
^'ille a month before, and the grand old insurrection, Iiut to whom Piquet was 
face of the enthusiastic Miot (the pa- deeply indebted foi- [last services, went 
triaiTli of the Commune) inspiriting the to see the liery attacker of property, 
soldiers. How the songs rang, how the He was accompanied liy an American, 
old man and liis comrades embraced the to give character to his visit, which he 
officers, and how the cohnnns inarched feared might result in his arrest and in- 
away into black annihilation and the carceration as an hostage. Pi(]uet re- 
execrations of the molis of liourgeois ceived him witli the most friendly cor- 
and the commercial people of Paris ! diality, an<l after the gentleman had 

One of the remarkable men of this broached the delicate subject, the C'om- 

great insurrection was Napias-Piipiet, numist said : 

formerly a barrister at Troyes, and, at •' Yes, we intend to burn every i^apei' in 

the opening of the Commune di'ama. every inq)ortant business establishment, 

])erhaps fiftv-tive years old. He was public and i)riyate, all archives, and 

tall, hands(.iine, with s|)arkling eyes, and every record which has any value to the 

an intense vivacity of manner which rich anil those who have been powerful." 

only the foreigner who has li\cd in But here the Frenchman delicately in- 

France can understand. Picjuet was terposed the thought that the Connnune 

jilaci'd in the delicate and dangerous would do much better to carefully jnit 

jiosition of Mayor at Passy. during the its seals upon all buildings containing 

latter days of the insurrection. He these papers, and to preserve the records 

liad. however, not only power theie, but of the iniquities of iiroperty-holders and 

was of much weight in the Connnune corporations, and tlien to publish to the 

councils. To him was largely due the world in future panqihlets all tlu' docu- 

finiuicial promptness of the insurrection- mentary evidence of what he (PicpU't) 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CAL.V. 



507 



asserted. To this the Socialist did not 
desire at first to listen, but he finally 
said he would consider it, and next da\' 
seals were placed on all oflices of nota- 
ries, corporations, i)ul)lic and private, 
etc. 

Then came the crushing stroke of 
MacMahon's entry, and the Fi'enchnian 
who had reasoned with Piquet had, Ijy a 
little stroke of finesse, saved to Paris 
the destruction of papers involving in- 
terests of thousands of millions of 
francs. Had he attempted to threaten 
Piquet, he would have incurred the 
greatest danger ; but he simply persuaded 
him to procrastination. 

Piquet was among the first to fall un- 
der the bullets of the Versailles soldiery. 
His loss was one of the great discour- 
agements for those who proposed to 
continue tiie desperate struggle. 

The l)urning of the Palace of Justice, 
on the Quai de rHorloge. was the sequel 
to the destruction of the Prefecture of 
Police. The latter edifice had been pre- 
pared for burning on the very first days 
that the C'onnnune came into power, as 
not a member of the insurrection in- 
tended that the ancient Imperial inquisi- 
tion sliould have any place to repose 
when it came liack. On AFeduesday 
niglit. the I'lth. when the regulars were 
raiiidly coming towards them, the dele- 
gate Ferre was busily engaged in dis- 
tributing money to be carried to the 
defenders of the barricades, when the 
news came that he must fiy. Rigault, 
the prefect, was wandering about the 
prisons, choosing victims on whom to 
retaliate for the indiscriminate shooting 
of the Communist prisoners. Ferre, 
before leaving, took down his book of 
prisoners. First on the list was the 
name of one condemned to death ac- 
cused of having given money for illegiti- 
mate purposes to certain members of 



the National Guard. The other prison- 
ers were released, but Vaisset, the con- 
dennicd, was shot at the loot of the 
statue of Henry IV'., and his body 
was thrown into the Seine. The Pre- 
fecture was then fired, and certain loud 
explosions showed that tlie insurgents 
intended the work to be thorough. The 
" Sainte-C'iiapelle," which had lieen 
especially marked for vengeance, re- 
mained absolutely untouched, and still 
stands, revealed in the l)eauty which had 
long been concealed in tlie quaint courts 
of the Palace of Justice. 

The third period of the great seven 
days' fight in Paris jjroperly begins with 
the afternoon of Friday, May 26th, and 
ends at four o'clock on the afternoon of 
Sunday, the 28th. During that time 
several hundred j)risoners were executed, 
the majority of them without tiial, and at 
least ten thousand were marched tinough 
tlie streets of the city, followed by how- 
ling mobs, eo /'Of/^' for Versailles. General 
Vinoy, who commanded the reserve 
forces, had, while the tremendous strug- 
gle at the Chateau d'Eau was in progress, 
made his way with but little fighting into 
the Faubourg St. Antoine. luasnnich as 
the active forces got to Belleville much 
sooner than General Vinoy had antici- 
pated, he suddenly found himself in a 
very important part of the action, and 
cooperated with much energy, uniting on 
the Seine the corps of General Douay and 
General Cissey. After the taking of the 
II(Mel de Ville, he was in the first line ; 
and while General Douay was striving to 
occupy the boulevards from the Chateau 
d'EiUi to the Bastille, Vinoy was preparing 
to attack the insurgents in flank. 1 have 
already (k'scril)ed liie liurning of various 
important public buildings at Belleville as 
the insurgents retreated, but this in no 
way checked the progress of the regulars, 
who, on Thursday afternoon and evening, 



508 EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 

wcio vigorously att;icK'ing the rclicl line in tliis qiuirter tlio poo[)le iiad evi- 
of defense on tlie Lyons and ^'ineennes dently taken hold in earnest, for very 
railways, and who iinally carried, with few of the eonihatants wore any uni- 
sinall loss, the lianieade under the grand forms. Not far from this scene of 
viaduct on the IJonlevard de Mazas. slanghter stands the historic house where. 
The insurgents attenipted to burn the in 1848, the most decided resistance in 
Lyons railway station during their retreat, Paris was ]nade. The old mansion still 
but failed. bears marks of these terrible cannou- 
The I'lace de la Bastille had always ades, and its second baptism of fire has 
l.ieen considered by the Comnninists as made the imnates unwilling to rest 
one of their princijial strongholds. Its within its shaky walls. The streets 
jiosition is naturally good for defense, here, as elsewhere, had the appearance 
and was exceptionally strengthened by of a battle-lield ; and the corpses of men 
liariicades on all the avenues which led and women lay neglected for two days, 
up to the grand "Column of July," such General Vinoy quietly continued worm- 
as the Boulevard Beaumarchais, the Hue ing his way fnjm the Place du TrOne 
St. Antoine, and the three now cele- until Friday, when he came upon a knot 
l)rated streets, Kues de Charenton, du of barricades on the Boulevards Pi-ince 
Faubourg dn Temple, and de la Poipiette. Eugene, I'iiilippe-Auguste, and de 
Li these important commercial highways Charoune. Here was a handful of brave 
occurred one of the most sanguinary men who reasoned against Fate, and 
combats in the records of street lighting, persisted in sujiposing that their fellows 
The insurgents, driven to despair, made were gaining ground in the centre of 
a fortress of every house and fought the city. They were carried on Friday 
from its windows, until the invading evening. The defenders were [nit to 
soldiery came to kill them ancl tinow death, and some of the houses near at 
their nnitilatc'd bodii-s into tiie streets, hand were bni'ued. (Tcueral ^'inoy 
Although the barricades at each entrance camped that night, under a raking fire, 
of the three streets were continually at the foot of the green and lovelv hills 
tottering under the feai'ful shocks of the which bear within their immemorial 
solid shot from the regulars' cannon, breasts the most celebrated dead of Paris, 
they wcie reliuilt hour by liour. and a — he was before POre La Chaise. 
(idrrailii' of "71 was always found to At this celelirated cemeterv. and the 
replant the red tlag high over the [iaving- Buttes Chaumont, the supeib park for 
stones as often as an artful sharp-shooter whose beauty Napoleon HI. diil so 
brought it down. Finally, the troops much, the insui-reetionists made their 
"turned" the liarricades, invading on last stand within the town, 
the east tiie Faiibouig St. Antoine, The most reliable accounts admit that 
and th>>so unfortunates who had been thirty thousand men, women, and chil- 
tlying from the Chateau d'Eau found dix-n, who had been directiv eni>aoed in 
themselves in the n]i(lst of a new ('(';-i/»/(', the lighting at Belleville, were linallv 
than which nothing could be more com- surrounded in the cemetery, and linn- 
plete. On what has been named tlie dreds of these were massacicd. I fre- 
Chai'cnton barricade, oni' hundred and i|nently heard well-to-do people, with 
five corpses were found. Many «ere whom I am personallv accjuainted. sav 
those of old men poorly dressed ; and that they hoped that not one of the thirty 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



509 



thousand would escape alive. The bat- 
teries of the insurgents, placed on a high 
slope in the middle ol' the cemetery, com- 
m:inded tlie Opera quarter, and had been 
firing sharply at every place whence 
smoke and flame issued for the past two 
days. On Friday tiie artillerymen di- 
rected tiieir attention to the assistance 
of their brethren in the Faubourg du 
Teni[)le, ;hk1 stray shells came whizzing 
intotlieCeutral JIarkets. The'-greatdam- 
age d(jne by these shells to property" is a 
figment of aristocratic imagination ; even 
tlie resi)ectal)le Paris journals admit that 
they lit but few fires. They wounded and 
killed, however, a great many inoffensive 
citizens. Tlie Comnninists had made an 
immense collection of anniiunition at 
Belleville, and having at their command 
about two hundred cannons, large and 
small, at first disdained the very correct 
fire wliich was poiu'ed into their batteries 
from I\I(^utniartre heights, only three 
thousand five bundled yards distant. As 
fast as cannon were dismounted, fresh 
ones were brought up, until the marines 
on IMontmartre wrung their hands and 
swore tliat tlie Devil was aiding the an- 
tagonists on the Buttes. 

Friday evening, Paris, which, say tlie 
Prussians, had been completely envel- 
oped in smoke for the tiu'ee previous 
days, was illuminated by a vast con- 
flagration, which set the whole anguish- 
stricken city out in Ixild relief against a 
frowning and angr^' sky. All the in- 
habitants of the suburban towns at once 
imagined that the final coup had arrived, 
and that the insurgents had fired the 
whole town. Hence the wildness of the 
reports which reached Englanil and 
America on Saturday and Sunday. 

The final attack was ready. "While 
old General Vinoy took fitful rest in liis 
dangerous (|uarters. General La<lmi- 
rault had executed a movement siiiiilai- 



to that which brought \'inoy to P$re La 
Chaise, and the two army corps were 
simultaneously in position in the rear of 
Pf're La Chaise and the rear of the 
Buttes Chaumont. The troops of Lad- 
miiault's corps came out ou the Place de 
la Uotonde, the central position of La 
\'illette, having arrived by the Rue de 
La Fayette and the Boulevaid de la 
Chapelle. The insurgents, turned to I he 
left after a vigorous defense, retired to 
the Docks ; — then came the conflagration 
of Friday evening. 

On Saturday morning the Connnunists 
found themselves shut in to Belleville 
in a semicircle, the two extremities of 
which leaned on the ramparts, and tlie 
bend of which followed the boulevards 
from the Bastille to the Chiiteau d'Eau, 
and extended along the grand canal from 
the Faubourg du Temple to the Place de 
la Villette. It rained ; men were tram- 
pled into the mud by others advancing ; 
the dead were horril)le to contemplate. 

At the left, on the Buttes Chaumont. tiie 
oViserver, with a good field-glass, could 
see a garden, the surface of which had 
been ploughed by descending fragments 
of shell. At the foot of a tall tree, 
whose branches were stripped, was a gi- 
gantic battery. Jlen, bare-headed and 
in their shirt-sleeves, were serving it. 
p]very two minutes the battery spoke in 
thunder tones. Looking from the bluff 
towards the great double-spired church 
of Belleville, and beyond the Menilinon- 
tant quarter, one could see, at the right, 
a vast bank of verdure, — Pere La 
Chaise. Flaslies at the foot of a huge 
monument showed the position of the 
insuigent battery there. A retreating 
l)attle-line, following the canal by La 
PoquQtte, the Boulevard Richard Lenoir, 
and tlie Boulevard de la Villette, showed 
the prf)gress of the attack. 

Genei'al Douay was crushing out the 



f}\{) 



EUROPE LV STORM AXD CALM. 



last fr:igiiK'ntar_y rc^^istaiiee in the Fau- 
bourg du Ti'iiiplc ; General Clinehant 
was subduing all the barricades barring 
approach to the canal. 

At the point where the Boulevard 
Richard Lenoir intersects with that of 
Prince Eugene was a gun barricade, 
solidly built, with ditches and embra- 
sures. It was so iirotected by barricades 
in the adjacent streets that the regulars 
were coiu|ielled to relincjuish attacks in 
front, and, going u[) by the Bastille, and 
bnishiug away smaller obstacles, sur- 
round the gigantic work, pouring a heavy 
lire upon it from all sides. When, after 
some hums, the insurgents abandoned it, 
making a desperate rim for life through 
one unlooked-for avenue of escape, the 
whole si'ction for a (piartcr of a mile 
around was in ruins. On the blood- 
spattered stones laj' cor|ises blackened 
with powder, clothes covered with gore 
torn off fi-om fever- wild frames by dying 
men in their agony, broken guns ami 
IVagnK'nts of an exploded caisson and 
its contents, iialf-a-dozen discml)Owelled 
horses; and the earth, says an eye-wit- 
ness, was in little clots, which could only 
have been produced by a generous ad- 
mixture of lilood. 

All Saturday afternoon shells rained 
upon Belleville, around and above the 
church, antl the horizon was enveloiu'd 
in enormous clouds of smoke. The in- 
surgents, who were cannonless, were 
finally driven into the space between the 
Buttes Chaumont and the Chateau d'Eau ; 
the two wings of the regular army joined, 
throwing the remains of the insurrection- 
ists upon the centre, which received the 
shock without deigning to move forward 
or back. Five o'clock, six, seven, 
passed, bringing death momentarily to 
the brave defenders of the Pt^re La 
Chaise batteries ; at eiglit, just as the 
rainy twilight was surreuderiug to dark- 



ness, the regulars charged into the bat- 
teries, and a massacre of fugitives began. 
Ladnhrault meantime obtained La Vil- 
lette comiiletely, and the next morning 
the artillery otlicers of the Versailles 
army were curiously examining the can- 
non in the Buttes Chaumont battery. 
Belleville was burning in a hunilred 
places ; one could hardly walk forty 
yaiils without seeing two or three 
coriises ; and the dismal processions of 
liare-headed condemned, marching away 
to be shot, were met every wliere. On 
tliat Sunday morning, fatal to the Com- 
mune, a few insurgents who iiad been 
passed by in the Faubourg du Temple 
and tlie Rue d'Angouleme still held out ; 
but in the afternoon, at two o'cloi-k, 
silence was C(jm[)h'te. At live P.INI. 
INLushal MacMahon announced to Paris, 
in a l)rief proclamation, that the insur- 
rection was cpii'lled. 

Twenty (housantl prisoners were taken 
during the last three days. 

Sunda_y morning dawned gloriously, 
and the unwonted tranquillity had in it a 
sense of blessedness. Cavaliers, many 
mounted on the horses which so lately 
had been ridden by the otlicers of the 
Commune, galloped gayly everywhere. 
Ofllcers sauntered arm-in-arm under the 
trees, which showed so many marks of 
violence, or seated themselves under the 
ciif' awnings and sipped coft'ee, handed 
them by waiters who still showed signs 
of fear at sight of all uniforms. The 
attractions were, as usual in France, a 
theatrical spectacle, composed of groups 
of }>risoners brought down from lielle- 
ville and La \'illette, and paraded be- 
tween ranks of horsemen. Towards 
noon on that historic Sunda_v a ghastly 
faltering procession of five thousand men, 
women, and children passed through the 
city on their way to Versailles. Mar- 
qius de Gallifii't rode at the head of a 



EUROPE LV STORM AND CALM. 



511 



brilliant staff, behind wliieli was a long 
line of soldiers who had deserted to the 
Commune, and who were to be shot. 
Women and men went arm-iu-arm, many 
a strong man holding up his fainting 
wife or daughter. There were real 
family parties, where the strong work- 
man held one of his loved ones each by 
the hand, and children followed father, 
mother, and daughter. One old man, 
who seemed dazzled by the light and 
frightened at the execrations of the 
crowd, fell down repeatedly, and was 
dragged hurriedly up l)_y his comrades, 
who feared that the soldiers would shoot 
him. By far the most horrible sight, 
however, was that of a man who broke 
away and ran furiously, dashing aside 
the hands outstretched to stop him. A 
troop of cavalry galloped after him. He 
foamed at the mouth, and ran still faster ; 
now he was down — now up — now a 



horse's feet felled him ; a bugler dis- 
mounted, and he was placed on the 
vacated saddle. The cavalry men set 
otr at sharp pace to regain the troop. 
The man fainted ; his face was covered 
with blood and dirt; he cried, "Kill 
me ! " Five minutes from that time, at 
a street corner not far from where he 
was captured, his appeal was heeded, 
and his quivering body thrown into a 
cart. A well-dressed man struck it with 
a cane and called it " Canxtillc." 

Near the walls, on that day, at the 
principal gate leading to Versailles, the 
Marquis de Galliffet ordered eighty-five 
of the prisoners shot ; and his orders 
were at once executed. Then on went 
others over the hot, dusty roads to Ver- 
sailles, where they were packed into 
the filthy prisons, and then examined at 
the rate of one thousand per dav. 



r)12 ECRUJ'E IX SroRM AXD CALM. 



CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE. 

Concessions of ?\r. Thicr-^. — The Viiulictivcnc-is of tlic MiiUlIe Classes. — Massacre of the Prisoners. — 
Enjxlish C'omments on the ^eveu Days' Fi^ht. — Last j\Iomenls of the Insurrectionists. — Testimonies 
of Kye-witiiesscs. — .Statistics of the Slaii^^lstcr. — A Curious Photograph. — Out of .Stnrui iut'> 
Calui. 

IT is s:ii(l tluit ^I. Tliicis uiadf ;i Ijriff is at oiire mtiile, I will proseciitr no oiio 

visit to Paris diiruio' the st^'viai lunlcr tlio grade of coloiicl. and I will 

days' light, but that he was only too leave the gates of the city o|H'n tof three 

glatl to relnrn hastily to Versailles, day.s. Is not that I'lllieiently ex|ilicit? " 

iistonishcd and hoi'rihed lieyond ineasnre The delegates professed themselves 

at the carnage :ind eontlagration visilile overnhehned vrlth his generosity, which 

on every hand. Thiers had never heen tnnoimted to a substantial amnesty for 

willing to lu'lie\f that the C'ommmiists till the chief offenders except those 

would proceed to extremities, and diieelly con.nected with the regular 

Maxinie Diicamp recounts that shortly ai'iiiy, and who must therefore be con- 

liefore the lintd liattle, three Comniii- sidered as traitors to the tlag ; and they 

iiists, peisontiges of consequence, called went back to Paris full of joy, :tnd two 

at \'eisailles, on the Chief of State, and i>f Ihcm went to the Communal Assembly 

maile ;i llnnl effort at reconciliation and to ii'[ioit. ]\Iiieh to tl;"ir constcination 

peace. These peisons, whose intellectutd they were immediately cla|i|)ed into 

status w:is better than that of most of prison, and iiiformetl that they were a 

the followers of the Contnnine. and who brttce of idiots. Thus ended the atteinpts 

were therefore entitled to some attention, at a peaceable adjnstnient of thedillicnl- 

eudeavored to impi ess the president with ties betwei'ii Paris and W'rsailles ; and 

the fttct, tlnit imless decent terms were from that moment there was no hesita- 

giveii to the Commune, it woidd whelm ti(ni on the i)art of the Communists, 

the whole capital in the ruin, which in- They luicked, itlundered, bni-neil, or 

volved itself. ISI. Thiers refused to dcstrovetl, without rhyme or retison, 

lielieve this. " They have said this very anxiinis to pull down, h,aving demon- 

ofteii." he remarked, •• they have made stiated in the face of the world that they 

all kinds of threats, but they will not had no capacity for construction ; they 

execute them." The three delegittes had botisted of the new social ediliee. 

firmly insistecl that he was not f:\miliar which they were to raise, but could not 

with the iemptu' of the insurrectionists; even lay its foundations, 

that they would not hesitate to bni'ii the The iudgment of the chief apostles of 

priceless treasures of the Louvre, and to liberty in Europe upon their work was 

defi'.ee if not efface all the monuments full of severest eondemuatiou. Maz/.ini 

of French grandeur. JI. Thiers re- wrote to ;i friend, shortly after the close 

fleeted for some minutes in silence, after of the Insurrection : "This revolt, which 

wliich he stiid to the delegtites : "Go broke out so suddenly without precon- 

bttek to Paris, ;uid say that if siu'render ceived plan.s, and tiuge'd by a [iin-ely 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



513 



negative socuxlistie element, abandoned 
even hy all the French Republicans of 
any renown, Init defended with passion 
and without fraternal spirit of conces- 
sion by men who ought to have fought, 
but who did not dare to fight against 



burglary ; was reduced to slay in order 
to steal ; and found itself finally embar- 
rassed by useless crimes, not knowing 
where the treasures, the secret hoards, 
which it had committed crime in order 
to possess, were to be found. The com- 



ALSACS 









^^^ -VUNE DE PABIS 

•411 LO\ 



\ FEOERES 



L ^j EPUBLiaUC TBANCAISE 

COWNlUNilE PARIS 

ORDIt 



III 



'"^mf 



the foreign enemy, — tended iuevitabl}- parison pleases me, and I extend it. 
to end in the exhibition of ma- 
terialism, to finish by the 
acceptance of a principle of 
action which, even had it over 
become law, would liave thrown 
France back into the darkness 
of the Middle Ages, and would 
have taken from her for cen- 
turies to come all hope of resur- 
rection. This principle is the 
sovereignty of tlie individual, 
which can bring about only un- 
limited personal indulgence, 
only the destruction of all au- 
thorit\', and the absolute nega- 
tion of national existence." 

Perhaps Mazzini was a little 
too severe on the .National 
Guard when he accuses it of 
not having liad the courage to 
fight the Prussians ; Iiut all the i est of his 
indictment is witixiut a flaw. RosslI, wlio 
died at the shooting- post on the pliui 
of Satory, shortly after the fall of the 
Comnunie, left on lecord a formidable 
and rather contemptuous characteriza- 
tion of the Commune. " No one of the 
actors in the drama," he said, " had 
studied his i)art for the great play. There 
was no .study, no character, no dural)le 
audacity in the whole party. This ple- 
beian crowd of workers aspired to pos- 
sess the world, and yet it knew nothing 
of the world. When a burg;lar means to 



'IT' 



TOE LVST PLACARD 
UF THE COMMUNE 




Pans was 

in the hands 

of tlioses i\ 

T^es exact 

ly like a 

comliination , 

lock. They 

had gotten 

into the 

house, and 

the Com- 
mune stood knitting its brows before the 

ponderous safe which contained the 

social riclies, itut was obliged to content 
force a house, he first makes a study of itself with the copi)er which had l)een 
the surroundings, the doors, the locks ; left outside. Tliereforf in its viudic- 
he knows where the strong boxes are, tive rage it set fire to the invaded house 
and how to get into them. But the before it departed." Tliere is the bitter- 
Commune was a novice at the trade of iiess of repentance after deception in 



514 



ECRorE IX STOIi.U AND CALM. 



tlic'se stinging words of Kossel. Ilf was 
not tlie only generous and noble spirit 
led into the movement, niily Id find that 
he had associated himself with an ignolile 
and disreimtable crew. 

Bad as the t'onimune was, terrible as 
the wreck of propeitv and of life in 
the gi'eat seven days' fight had been, 
neitlier tlie remembrance of this nor any 
other thing could excuse tlie ferocity and 
vindictiveiiess of tlie middle classes of 
Paris when once they had got the Com- 
mune down. They were not conteut 
with setting their feet u|)on its neck, 
but they wished to mangle and torture 
it. Prisoners were treated with a feroc- 
ity which would scared J- be credited if 
it were to be described. I have little 
doubt that dozens, if not scores, of in- 
nocent people perished liecaiise of the 
tleiiuiiciatioiis of stupiil or \illainous ser- 
vants and zealous tradesmen. Scores 
of foreigners narrouly esca|ied death at 
the hands of the regulars, simply because 
they were foreigners and found some 
difficulty in explaining their presence in 
Paris. The Marquis de (iallift'et was 
accused, and never made any very ex- 
])licit denial of the charges, of having 
decimated his processions of prisoners 
without any trial or other formality than 
pointing his finger at the ones to be shot. 
Many of the stories told of the regular 
troops and their excesses of vengeance 
were exaggerated at the time, but enough 
is estal)lished as liist(_)ry to make one 
believe that the older a nati<iii grows the 
more terrible is a civil war within its 
boundaries. 

From the diary of a French writer, who 
carefully observed the seven days' fight, 
1 take a few sentences which show the 
temper of the time. The writer is 
speaking of the closing days of the 
fight. '• Never again will such a spec- 
tacle be seen. I have just been up the 



whole length of the Rue de Rivoli, 
lighted by fires all along the route, — 
the Ministry of Finances, the Tiiilerios, 
and I don't know how many [U'lvate 
houses. The effect of the flames rising 
up to the blue sky — for the weather is 
most lieautiful — isi(uite startling. Ever_v 
few yards there is a kind of barricade, 
and around it a heap of corpses. In 
the midst of these fires, breathing the 
stiliiliuidus air, and under the impression 
of the iniliguation and irritation inspired 
by so many crimes, man seems to un- 
dergo a complete transformation. One 
looks with a kind of cruel satisfaction 
upon the faces, yellow as wax, of the 
bodies struck down by the l>alls of the 
{■Ji(is.-<cjiols, and involuntarily one falls 
to cursing those dead men in the name 
of the massacres and the victims every- 
where to be seen. It wouhl seem as if 
sensitiveness would be destroyed, but it 
is, on the contrary, increased. Going 
liaek in the evening towards the Champs 
Elvsees, after having passed buckets at 
the fire of the Hotel de Ville half the 
day, I met in the Rue St. Ilouore a 
long file of prisoners that soldiers were 
taking to the head-cjuarters. Among 
them were women who were reall}' 
hideous. The men marched, some carry- 
ing their heads erect ; others, with a 
sombre and terrihle aspect ; otiiers, com- 
pletely broken down with fear. In the 
party were many young girls, and even 
children. One m;ui was leading by the 
hand his two little sons; a daughter, sis 
or seven years old, hung alioiit his neck. 
The crowd followed upon the heels of 
the prisoners, yelling ■ Death I Death! 
Death to the pefrolciiscs ! Down witii 
assassins! Don't take them any far- 
ther! Shoot them right here!' And 
from the fury which slioue in the eyes of 
these peo[)le, it seemed as if at the first 
halt they would precipitate themselves 



EUROrE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



515 



upon the piif>oners :uul tear tlieni to 
pieces. Tlie little girl looked upon this 
angiy crowd with her great black eyes 
filled with an indefinable expression of 
astonishment, of fright, and of sadness; 
anil the more frightened she became, the 
more she tugged at the neck of her poor 
father. His wandeiing look seemed for 
a moment to fix itself upon me. I 
could not restrain myself. I ran to the 
man, who held tlie little creature like a 
shield against the death which he very 
likely merited, and I said to him in a 
sujiplicating voice, ' Give ine your little 
daughter. I will give her back to you.' 
For answer, he only said to me, ' I am 
innocent. I don't know why I have 
been taken into this company.' Jnst 
then soldiers pushed us violently apart." 
The excited statement of the London 
"Times" on the last day of May, that 
Paris was no more, that we might look 
for it in future, but sIkjuW find its jilace 
only, was scarcely justified by facts. 
Yet the destruction had been so great 
that there is nothing wonderful in the 
formidable nature of the impression 
which it produced in neighboring capi- 
tals. The Hotel de ViUe, tlie Lyric 
Theatre, the Palais Roy ale, the Grand 
Library of the Louvre, the Council of 
State, the Cours des Comptes, the Palais 
de Justice, the vast granaries on the 
Boulevard Bourdon, and the Tuilerie.s, 
the enormous warehouses on the docks 
of La Villette, dozens of rich mansions 
in the Rue de Lille and the Rue Royale, 
and in other of the iirincii)al avenues — 
had l)een either totally destroyed or so 
damaged that their demolition was 
necessary ; and such had been the de- 
termined efforts to burn the historic 
cathedral of NOtre Dame, and the 
churches of St. Eustache, the Made- 
leine, and the Trinity, that it seemed to 
those who read the sensational accounts 



published at the time as if the French 
capital were razed to the ground ; yet 
two years afterwards there were but 
few marks of the conflagration or of the 
liattle of tlie streets visible, and tourists 
invariably indulged in exclamations of 
disaiipointment. There were no ruins 
to see. 

Here we may take leave of our notes 
of the great insurrection. French soci- 
ety revenged itself terribly ujion those 
who had temporarily interrupted its 
course. The hatred of the classes was 
intensified rather than extinguished. 
Men like Rossel, Ferre, Bourgeois, Mil- 
liere, Dclescluze, and Rigault appear 
to have left behind them persons who 
consider them as martj'is, and it wa.s 
not until after the general and complete 
amnesty that the aspirations for a second 
Commune were substantially checked. 
All those who were anxious for the rec- 
onciliation of the opposing forces in 
French soi-iety, men like X'ictor Hugo, 
men like Father Hyacinthe, did their 
best by word and pen to bring about 
a fraternal fci-liiig. But, alas! Fra- 
ternity exists only upon the portals of 
the public liuildings, where it is written 
up in connection with its handmaidens. 
Liberty and Equality. 

No one connected with the Coinniune 
appears to have manifested much hero- 
ism or bravery when his final moment 
came. Raoul Rigault had no time to 
protest or to fume against his captors. 
He was pushed against tlie wall and shot 
like a dog. The recital of the death of 
Milliere, who was a man of some power 
as a publicist, and who at the time of 
the Victor Noir riots had a temijorary 
notoriety, is rather interesting. Mil- 
liere was taken after the regular troops 
had broken down the barricades at the 
Pantheon, in the home of his father-in- 
law, who lived hard by, and was brought 



.51() ErROI'E IX STORM AM) CALM. 

before a general installed near the IjUX- you eaii make me do it if you wish." 
eiiilioui'ti'. As tile wretehed man was The ollieer then liad him l'oree<l on to 
flrajiiied into the house with a thousand his knees, and his exeinition was then 
people howling at his heels, the general proceeded with. He cried, " T'/ce I'ltii- 
said, -'So yon are Milliere?" — '-Yes;" iitnin'tr .' " and was going to chant some- 
said Ihe revolutioi:ist, assuming a certain thing else, when death interru|)ted him. 
dignity, " and you must remember that Among the Americans present in Paris 
I am a ileputy." — "That may lie so. but during the leign of the C'onnnnne and 
I ratlier think you ha\e lost yonr quality thi' battles in which it was '.•rushed, no 
of deputy. For that matter, we will pro- one saw niort-, um went alxjnt more 
ceed to ha\<' voii identilied." The bi-avelv determined to observe, even at 
otlicer who had ariested Milliere [ires- the risk of his life, than Mr. Omer T. 
ently told him that the general's orders (ilenn, of Cincinnati. This gentleman 
were that he should be shot. "Why?" has kindly comnrnnicated to me from 
said Milliere. The otlicer answered, his private journal a few notes, which 
" I only know yon liy n.ame. 1 have read are not witliout a stril^ing interest, 
artii'les of vours which (piite disgusted With reference to the famous courts-mar- 
me. You are a viper, whose head must tial, Mr. (Jlenn writes: "I passed by 
lie crushed. You detest society." jMil- the C'hateh't Theali'e, on every side of 
li^re answered, " I do indeed hate so- which, except the rear, large crowds 
ciety in its present form."— ^" Very well ; were gathered. Prisoners were being 
then you shall be expelled from its tried rajiidly. 1 liad not long to wait 
midst. You are about to be shot." before a batch of twenty or thirty came 
Million' protested that this was V)arbar- out under guard of the lilue-uniformed 
ous cruelty, worthy i.if savages, etc. ; soldiers, who did most, if not all, of the 
luit ho was taken at once to the Pan- shooting at the Caserne Lobau. These 
theon, where the general, bv a reline- [irisoners were marched down to the 
ment of cruelty, had (.n'deied he should Caserne Lobau. placed over against a 
be shot in a kneeling position, as if beg- wall; the huge folding-doors of the 
giuu pardon of So<-iety f(.ir the evil building were then closed, and we ini- 
which he had wrought. A participant mediately heard a rattle of mu--ketry, 
in the I'xeiaition says that IMiUiere re- followed by the usual stray shots at 
fused to be shot in a kneeling (losture. those who still showed signs of life. A 
The ollieer said to him, ■• It is the or- gentleman who was with me said, ' Let 
ders : you will be shot thus, and not us get away from this horrible sight : I 
otiierwise." He played a little comedy, can't stand it ; ' so we crossed the street, 
tore open his coat, showing his nakeil and took our way up the Boulevard St. 
breast to the platoon charged to shoot Michel. Here and ther(> soldiers and civi- 
liim ; so the otlicer said to him, '■ You lians were cheerfully at work reiilacing 
need not indulge in any theatricals : just the iiaving-stc.ines, levelling barricades, 
take it easily, and it will be much bet- etc. The chances of lieing called upon 
ter." Jlilliere answere(L " I have a to aid in this work wciv so good that I 
right, in my own interest and in that of e(in<'luded to rt^turn. after a iiromenade 
my cause, to do as I (ilease." — " Vei'v of a few M|uares : so I went back to the 
well, then, get on your kuei'S I " Milliere Chfltelet. 
then said, " I will nevei- do it mvself ; •' In a few minutes out came another 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM 



iAl 



party of prisoners under guard. 
These were men raiiiiiug in age from 
eighteen to sixty, some ot them hatless, 
ahnost every one a|)pe:uing to be of 
the working class. I am inclined to 
think that they Itnew they were marching 
to immediate death ; they looked so 
effurh. Arriving at the Caserne Lobau, 
the same scene was gone through with, 
the closing of the doors, the rattle of 
musketry, one or two cries, then some 
stray shots. It seemed to me that the 
executionei's wore the same appalling 
exi)ression of countenance as the prison- 
ers themselves. I ventured to remark to 
a bo'irgi'ois at my elbow, ' At this rate 
of destruction, Paris will soon have no 
workmen left.' — ' Oh I' replied he, ' there 
are plenty of others to come up from the 
country.' This Ijutchery at the Caserne 
Lobau went on for several days. 
I once went to Pi^re La Ch;iise,and there 
talked to some workmen, who had been 
burying some executed Communists. 
The workmen thought they had covered 
in about four iunidred men. I also went 
to Montparnasse. Here dead men, dis- 
interred at various points in the city, 
were being brought in in wagons, to be 
thrown into the ditches dug for the Com- 
munards. As the crowd pressed for- 
ward to get a view of the bodies about to 
be tumbled into the trenches, an (.)ld 
guardian, in uniform, would cry out, 
' Move back, ladies and gentlemen ! 
Move back ! It is not a pleasant spec- 
tacle, I assure you.' These burials of 
the wagon-loads of corpses went on all 
that d:iy. I do not believe tiiere were 
thirty thousand executions, as has been 
reported ; perhaps five thousand in all." 
The official statistics with regard to 
the punishment of the insurrectionists 
have a pathetic interest. Of course 
there is included in these statistics only 
the punishment of the prisoners who 



wore brought lieCore regular courts after 
the complete cessation of hostilities. 
This does not comprise the hundreds, if 
not thousands, who were shot by the 
sentences of coiu'ts-martial duiiug the 
battle. From the od of April, 1S71. to 
the 1st of January, 1.S72, thirty-eight 
thousand five hundred and seventy-eight 
individuals were arrested as participants 
in the insurrection. Of this number the 
military courts sat in jiidgment upon 
tliirt3'-six thousand three hundred and 
nine, of which two thousand four hun- 
dred and forty-fi\'e wei'e ;icquittfd, ten 
thousand one Innidreil and thiity-one 
were convicted, and twenty-three tl]ou- 
sand seven iiundred and twenty-seven 
were liberated after examination. As 
the otHcial documents of the Commune 
say that some hundred and lifty thousand 
armed men took part in the revolt, these 
figures would indicate that France was 
not too severe in her punishment. The 
government papers say that among 
those arrested were seven thousand four 
hundred persons who had been previously 
convicted for crimes against the law. 
There aiipear to have Ijeen but little 
more than a hundred sentences to death 
passed by tiie military courts from 1K71 
to IST.J, at the end of which period tiie 
"Commission of Assassins," as the sym- 
pathizers with the Connnuue called the 
I'arliameutary Connnittee whicli dealt 
with the prosecutions, made up its re- 
[)ort. There were many singula!' and 
ratlier inex|ilicable sentences. Thus, 
Rochefort. who was not really a Com- 
munist, liut who had to leave Pai'is be- 
cause he told tlie Connnuue the dangei' 
into which it was marching blindfold, 
found himself sentenced to conlineinrnt 
in a fortress for life, and was sent off to 
the other end of tlie world, whence he 
made his escape in mostromantic fashit)n. 
and found his way to New York, and 



518 



EUliOPK IN STORM AXD CAI.M. 



thence to Switzerland. Paschal Grous- 
set, the good-lookino; and amiable young 
man whom the Comninne dignified with 
the aiipellntioii of its delegate of f<jreign 
affnirs. nian;igeil to save his head, al- 
though he ])assed through five uiiiuites 
of the m<ist terrilile suspense in front of 
the Grand Ilotrl in Paris, wiien he was 
recognized in a, cab, and was saved, as if 
by a miracle, from Ijeing torn in pieces. 
He sliared IJoehefort's condenniatiou and 
puni.sluneiit, and fate destined him also 
t(j share in the audacious journalist's 
esca|ie from the penal colony of New 
Caledonia. 

In the sliop of a l>ookseller on the 
Bouli'vai'd I one <lav found the photo- 
grapli of a. working-man, u])ou wIkisc 
face thrre was an expression of mingled 
awe, contempt, and fear ; the look wa.s 
positively so mysterious and awful that 
it at once commanded respectful atteu- 
tion. I iu(iuired the history of this sin- 
gular picture, and was told that it was 
the face of a workman photograi)he(l, 
doubtless in the interest of some jisycho- 
logical study, a moment or two before he 
was executed. The expression of this 
])oor fellow, standing thus upon the 
threshold of eternity, still hot with the 
passions and the enmities of time, niav 
be taken as typical of the attitude of 
the fighters for the Comnnnie <luring 
the last terrilile seven days, of which I 
have endeavoreil here to give some ac- 
count. 



After the horrors of this prolonged 
struggle, peace and security seemed to 
bring with them a complete nervous re- 
action, from which all who had been 
spectators of, and pai'tial or unwilling 
particifiauts in the drama, suffered for 
many days. The principal physicians of 
Paris ass(.'rt that hundreds of peo|)le had 
their lirains literally turned by the 
horrors which they were compelled to 
witness ; and it is not strange that even 
those who were not predisposed to in- 
sanity were in a mental condition far 
from norn)al for a lengthy period. 

From Paris I went to London, and at 
St. Denis, as the train crawled out of 
the walls of the capital, and passed the 
half-ruined fortress, we fovnid the Prus- 
sians, who departed from their usual 
dignity so far as to give the passengers 
in the train an ironical cheer, and to cry, 
" Vive la ( 'dill ill mil' .'" But thisgratuitous 
insult was far fiom being in accordance 
with the usual custom of the Germans, 
who, as a man, had quite as great a con- 
tem|)t for the Commune as the French 
property-holder could have. 

In Loudon we seemed in another 
world. The calm of the great green 
parks, the laughter of the children in 
the streets, and the undisturbed flow of 
commerce in the mighty metropolis, 
seemed almost unnatural, so accustomed 
had the eye and ear become to the sound 
of battle and to the sense of danger. 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



519 



CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX. 

After Storm, L';ilm. — I^oudoii iind Palis. — Points of lie--.einblain.'e ami of Dillcreiice. — London 
anil Paris rockneys. — Old London. — Contrasts in Manners, Food and Drink. — Hiinday in tlic Two 
Capitals. — Mutual Respect and Comical Concealment of It. 



THE contrasts siiQ;<j;estod by the ar- 
rival in London after the con- 
fusion, the bloodsheil, and the dangers 
in Paris, were highly impressive and 
strilving ; but they are even at ordinary 
times only less iu degree. English sym- 
patiiies had been deeply stirred by the 
tnnuoil on the " Continent," as our British 
cousins with their insular coolness call 
the greater portion of Europe, and 
London had, with its magnificent charity, 
done good alike to Germans and to 
French. But beneath the sympathy it 
was not ditlicult to discern a kind of 
pity which was not unmixed witli scorn, 
and there was a disposition in the upper 
classes to decry and perhaps to deny the 
value of the revolution through which 
the neighboring country, the secular 
enemy and antagonist, but now tiie 
prostrate and appealing ally, had passed. 
That England vras stirred by tlie vast 
demonstration of German military power 
there was abundant proof. It was ap- 
]iarent in the renewed attention to coast 
defences, the rebirth of the military feel- 
ing in the remotest centres, the most 
rural of counties, and the disposition to 
turn for consolation in the presence of 
these huge triumphs of a neighbor and 
kindred race, to tlie contemplation of 
the "(Greater Britain," of which Sir 
Charles Dilke lias given us so picturesque 
and adeqtiate an aeeoiint. England had 
not lieen in the midst of important events 
for the two or three [irecediug years. 



The Reform Bill agitation over, the 
country had settled into one of its long 
periods of inertia, — :is it seems to the 
foreigner, — periods in wiiich the needed 
ne.xt reform seems to crystallize iu the 
national mind without apparent glow of 
feeling or noisy demonstration of any 
shape whatsoever. 

Loudon and Paris, between wiiieh 
there is an incessant and most curious 
interchange of sentiment and of travel, 
are as unlike each other in some respects 
as if they were thousands insteatl of 
a few hundred miles ai)art. Each has 
flowing through its centre an historic 
stream, whose banks are lined with im- 
posing and with venerable mansions, 
and the citizens of each city p.ay especial 
reverence to these rivers, and are as 
proud of them as if they were Amazons, 
Congos, or Mississippis. Each city has 
an ancient and ornate Cathedral ciunch, 
and the lover of the beautiful finds it 
bard to choose between Notre Dame 
and Westminster. Each has its cor- 
porations with their innumerous tra- 
ditions, their fuss and feathers, their 
gowns and furs, their privileges and 
accumulated wealth ; each has a muni- 
cipal legend, which is full of glory and 
fighting, of careers of citizens enriched 
by trade and ennobled by their sover- 
eigns ; each has a huge institution de- 
voted to military and naval glory ; and 
each its crypt in which a liero sleeps. 
There is a kind of cousinship between 



520 EriiorE /\ stok.u axo calm. 

the Paiitlu'iiii Mini .^t. Paul's. Each sound of How Ik'lls, and hi' Ihids little, 
caiiital has its ohsiTvatorv. whieh it if anything, to olijeet to in tlir nicmii- 
tiiinks the liist in the world ; and each nients (.)r the manners heqncathcd to him 
its acadciuies of painting', which respec- hy the KuLllisluiien of past e|iochs. 
tivelv assert their supremacy without ^lodern Paris, with its enormous and 
doubt as to tlie le<ritiniacy of their claims, wide avenues, with their hroad side- 
liach has its parliament, its ministries, walks bordered with graceful trees, with 
its otHcial " season," and di[iloniatic lux- the li<;htn.^ss and grace of the huge vel- 
ury, activity, and si)lendor ; each its an- lowish-white mansions, with their baleo- 
nual visitation of the rich and the great, nies and their immense ranges of (ilate- 
whu go to Paris and Loudon liecause glass windows, their dexterously deco- 
they are London and Paris, and for no rated shops, and their superb churches, 
othei- reason at all : and each its throng ludls, markets, fountains, and sijuares, 
of ad\'enfnrei's, wlio come to (irey upon is a dazzling ami liewitching \ision t<i 
the rii-li and to bask in their sunshine those who tirst look upon it; ami from 
with that recklessness of the future April to November the beautiful town is 
characteristic of their class. bathe(l in delicate sunlight and rarely 
Ihit after a little, one finds it dillicidt overhung with the gray and frowning 
to establish analogies between London skies, which, joined to the canopy of 
and Paris. P.oth cities are alike in this sooty and sulphurous smoke, make Lou- 
regard, that while their citizens manifest don so oppressive to the new-comia'. 
and ex|n-ess the greatest veneration for P>ut London has a quiet beauty of its 
the relics of the past, the modern and own, which the great town does not 
new portions of the capitals are nnpiet- hastily reveal, and which ^au- mu^-t learn 
uresque and prosaic. Perhaps the Lon- to (ind out. There are certain temiiera- 
doner attaches more im|iortance to the ments specially delighted with what they 
past than docs the Parisian. In Fiance, are ]ileased to term the "mellowness" 
hundreds of thousands of people date of London, — its mists, which seem to 
everything in their country's history give a kind of glamor to the commonest 
from the Kevolution of the l:\stcentury, objects, its winding streets, with niiex- 
which, as Taine says, made " a new pected stairs and gateways, triiily pro- 
France." P)iit in EnglancL althongh in tected with iron hooks and spikes, its 
their time they have cut oft" a king's broad ex|)anses of court, around which 
head, they have not cut loose from the ancient houses stare down uiion lilack- 
traditions. the legends, and the beautiesof eiied. almost unrecognizable, statues of 
former eeiitiiiies, and they still speak of half-forgotten worthies, its mysterious 
them with bated breath. The Parisian rookeries, dignified with aristota'atic 
cockney is a cvnic. and the London names, to which the l)usy Londoners 
cockney an enthusiast. If Alplionse or repair for refreshment, the shadowy 
Adolphe uo to Versailles for a Sunday's taverns into which the sun ahiiost never 
outing, thev are more than likely tocriti- p.'cps, the recesses protected by (lakeii 
else the landsea[ie gardening of Le screens, liy red curtains, in which men 
NAtre, and to poke fun at the shade of take tlieir dinners and drink with the 
the great monarch, liut 'Arry on the gravity of conspirators and communicate 
sands at Margate or at Hampton Court in whispers, though they have nothing 
is as truly [jatriotic as when within the whatever to conceal. 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



521 



It is worthy of note that while Paris 
is the most literary of European capitals, 
the stranger is not so prone to associate 
its architectural and physical features 
with some literary remembrance as he is 
in London. One thinks of Dr. Johnson 
and of Dickens in a walk up Fleet 
Street and through the Strand ; but one 
i-arely gives a thought to Balzac on the 
lioulevard. In London, the higli streets 
and the by-streets are filled with children, 
clean and dirty, well and ill dressed, 
decorous and screeching, children young 
nnd childi'cn half-grown, babes under 
the feet and brats at the corner; but in 
Paris, one starts in search of a child 
almost in vain. The street Arab, so 
familiar to English and American eyes, 
is unknown in Paris. If the baker's boy, 
in his white cap, is disposed now and 
then to be jocular, he does it with the 
air of a mature and blane clubman. As 
for M. Hugo's famous Gavroche, I have 
yet to see his exact type. He must 
have gone out with the 1848 Republic. 
But London is a city full of children, and 
of children who take their ease in their 
good cai>ital, unrestricteil by draymen, 
policemen, and other functionaries dread- 
f nl ti> juvenile folk elsewhere. 

AVhile in elegance of modern architect- 
ure Paris undoubtedly takes the lead, 
in indei>endence and in quiet comfort, 
not devoid of a certain pictnresqueness, 
London, if it could get rid of its smoke, 
would be without a rival. In Paris 
there is always a feeling of attrition. 
The life is intensely public, glaring. 
The street is a kuIoh in exteiiso. One 
instinctively feels in his pocket for his 
gloves, and looks to his cane when he 
goes abroad. At home, there is the 
lodge-keeper, a kind of jack-in-oflice. in 
his den. In a " quarter " of Paris there 
are a thousand little centres like so 
many gossipiug, covetous, and back- 



biting village circles. Both Paris and 
London have a curiously provincial flavor 
which is not perceptible in other great 
cities. If any thing striking hap- 
pens in London at two o'clock of an 
afternoon, it is talkcil of in Whitechapel 
and Belgravia in the same minutely gos- 
siping vein before sunset. "Every- 
body knows everybody who is anybody 
in Paris," said a Parisian to me once. 
As the cities become great, the citizens 
in them, instead of growing unconcerned 
in the presence of daily events, take a 
ludicrously exaggerated concern in them. 
London, with its four and a half mil- 
lions, Paris with its two and a half mil- 
lions, of what might be called intranuiral 
folk, and with their colossal aggrega- 
tions of wealth, of culture, of crime, of 
misery, of adventure, are as eager for the 
latest news of a rifle-match or a horse- 
race as a New England village might be. 
Much of new Loudon sprang into 
being during the long wars, when (ireat 
Britain was cut off from association with 
the continent, and when, conseciuently, 
her architects and builders were de- 
prived of models of taste, — when, in 
fact, the people cared little for taste in 
their shelters ; hence the miles and 
scores of miles of hastily-planned, sipiat 
and blackened house-fronts, which con- 
ceal happy and harmonious homes, but 
which to the outward vision are reijulsive 
enough. When I'aris got the informing 
touch of modern imi)rovement under the 
Emi)ire, when Nai)oleon III., who had 
had his gaze sharply fixed on London's 
defects dnring his residence there, re- 
solved that he would leave a monument 
built out of the lime-stone quarries of 
France in the capital, where he managed 
to maintain his rule well or ill, ol<l 
Paris, was destined to lose some of 
its charm and mysteries in the presence 
of this pressure of iinprovemeut, but 



V2-2 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



"old London " has kept its strangeness 
and oddity, and liids fair to keep it long. 
The wood pavement has fonnd its way 
into many a black alley and in front of 
many an anti jne pile, but the craze for 
the widening of streets has not been 
allowed to interfere with old London. 

I\lany points of contrast between Lon- 
don and Paris have disajipeared within 
tile last twentj- years. Of the ordinary 
Paris, nothing was more impressive 
before the many changes which invaded 
the two ca[)itals conseqnent on the great 
cnrrent of international travel, than the 
difference in the aspect of the two great 
cities on the Sunday. To the American 
of the Atlantic and the Middle States, 
the profound repose of respectable Lon- 
don on the sacred day was as iiatiwal 
and proper as, to his thinking, the open 
transaction of business, the gayety, and 
the festal atmosphere of the Sunday of 
Paris was shocking and detestable. The 
American found, h(iwever, that there 
was an uniileasant Sunday side to Lon- 
don, and was dnly shocked in presence 
of tlie throngs of roughs, and of 
wretchedly-clad women and even chil- 
dien waiting, at mid-day, the opening 
of the pulilic houses, where intoxicating 
liquors were freely dispensed. But this 
the tolerant traveller noted as the result 
of the dejiravity consequent upon igno- 
rance, while he went back to the old 
French Revolution, with wliat he was 
wont to call its mischievous teachings, 
for the license prevalent in the French 
capital. Nowadays the Parisians close 
their shops, not because they consider 
Sunday as more worthy of observance 
than aiiv other jT-tc day, Init because 
they take it as the occasion of their 
weekly airing, and their promenades 
among tlie beauties of the clean streets. 
Au":ong the fashionable tradesmen Sun- 
day-closing is universal in Paris. In 



the Kue de la Paix, on many of the 
grand boulevards, and in most of the 
avenues devoted to shops where articles 
of Inxury are sold, the shutters are all 
up. only a Hebrew now and then plying 
his commerce in bold defiance of the 
general rule. The hundreds of shops in 
Paris which depend upon the custom of 
the foreign traveller are as careful to 
keep Sunday as they are to put " Eng- 
lish Spoken." and " Se Huhla E^paTiol" 
upon the plate-glass of their windows. 

On the other hand, the sternness of 
the Loudon Sunday has been much 
broken by the great invasion of the for- 
eign element, the Italian, the (ierman, 
the Jew, the Greek ; and the wanderer 
in the great capital in [inrsnit of some- 
thing to eat on a Salibath afternoon now 
sees the doois of an inviting (■((/(' wide 
0[)en where he would have sought for re- 
freshment in vain some years ago. The 
stranger's idea that all classes of Lon- 
doners give themselves u|i with Puri- 
tanic devotion to a solenm stillness on 
the Sabbath is incorrect. In some of 
the upper circles, receptions are held and 
dinners are given ; in the literary and 
artistic guild, the day is used for meet- 
ings and conversation ; but it is rare to 
hear of a concert or an entertainment, in 
the strict sense of the term, at any pri- 
vate house on Sunday. The trains run 
at certain hoins of the day; the parks 
in summer are filled with hundreds of 
thousands of pronienaders of all classes, 
and bands of music sometimes play re- 
frains t;dien from opera limiffi-a which 
bear the mark of Paris export. 'I'lii^ 
museums are not yet open to the public, 
as in Paris, although here and there is 
an exhibition, as at (Treenwich. where 
one niav wander through the stately halls 
and see the pictures of great naval bat- 
tles and the memorials of Nelson, shown 
with reverent gestures by the whimsical 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



52a 



old guardians ; aud a siiipulnr feature of 
Loudon society is tlie aristoeratie gatliei- 
ering iu the Zoological Gardens (popu- 
larly known as the Zoo) from four to 
seven on a summer Sunday afternoon. 
The holiday making of the Londoner in 
the many beautiful resorts near tiie capi- 
tal, such as Hampton Court, Eichnidnd. 



riment ; liut the Parisian crowd is not 
satisfied without a balloon, and, possil)ly, 
a horse-race, a shopping excursion among 
the booths of the fairs, which are as nu- 
merous as the saints in the calendar, fire- 
works, andaroystering dinner in thceven- 
ing. with |)rob;dily a merry carriage-ride 
lioMie afti'r dinner. In London, people 







SUNDAY MAUKET IX TETTICO-VT LANE. 



Windsor, Kew Gardens, Dulwich, is 
vastly more decorous and subdued tliau 
that of the Parisian, who, in comiiany with 
his wife or his sweetheart, finds his way 
to Versailles or St. Cloud, to Meudon or 
Sceaux, to the forests of St. Germain or 
Fontainebloau, to Ville d'Avray (jr to the 
pretty villages on the banks of the Seine. 
If the London cockney indulges in a roll 
on the grass, it is the extent of his mer- 



go abroad simply for exercise, for which 
every healthy Englisli man and woman 
has a kind of mania ; iu France, no one 
thinks simply of physical exercise, and 
the glow of appetite which follows it, but 
rather of the sensuous beauty of green 
lanes and turfy lawns, the sight of pretty 
fountains, symmetrical parks, and a look 
at the fashions as displayed in the mov- 
ing throngs. France being a highly 



524 EUROPE IX STORM AND CAI,M. 

clc'iiiocratic ciMiiitrv. every oonceivalilc rois nf ;i olooiny Siindny in the English 

kind of V£'liifk', unless it be an advertis- metropolis had sultieiently alarmed her 

ing van, is admittet", to the Hois de Hon- to [irevent her ever again visiting the 

logne. The eoolv goes to ride with her Kritish Isles. 

coaehman lover on the box of his call, As Paris grows larger it takes on, as 

whieh falls into line behind the stately London long ago took on, a elimate of 

eqnipage of an English duke, a Spanish its own. Humboldt, in a burst of indig- 

grandee, or the President of the Itepiib- nation against the France whieh he never 

lie, if h<' ballpens along. But the likeil, onee said that Paris hiul the worst 

unfortunate wight who attempts an en- climate in the woild ; and the great 

trance to Ilyde Park in a numbered car- traveller's dictum has at least some 

riage will lind liimsclf most haughtily foundation in fact. AVhen the gloom of 

motioned away, and must wait imtil he November settles down over the fair 

can afford a livei-y, hired or owned, be- city, Paris is scarcely more agreeable 

fore he can mingle with the " upper ten." than London. The vastarea of chimneys. 

Perhaps tiiere is no sight in London park letting forth tiie smoice of the soft Bel- 

ou any day so amazing as that of the giuni coal, year liy year, makes the 

immense innnber of handsome carriages winter atmosphere very like that which, 

returning from the (jrand Prix, through when one first sees it in London, !iLin- 

the IJois de Bt)ulogne, in Paris on a Sun- Chester, or Birmingiiani, gives a shudder 

day afternoon. But two-thirds of the of repidsion. But in great cities, people 

peoiile who fill these handsome vehicles take small note of tlie weather, their 

belong to the great mob of adventurers lives being artificial and indoors, for 

and adventuresses, who perijetnally fill your true Londoner is, desi)ite his frantic 

the motley world of Paris. There is a devotion to exercise, an indoor being 

'• Hospital Sunday" and a " Studio Sun- eight months of the year. It is not 

day " in London ; but in Paris, Sunday strange that he should be so in a climate 

is the choosen day for any and almost which elicits such mention as I once read 

every great pulilic/(V« or celebration. An in an English journal, namely, ''January, 

election is held on Sunday ; the great February, March, April, May, June, and 

horse-race of the year occurs on Sunday ; the other winter months." Paris has its 

ministers address their constituents on that fogs, dreary and uninviting as those 

day ; and if first perfoi'maneesat the thea- of London. It sometimes has cold and 

tres are not given on Sunday evenings, it rainy .Junes; and tlie weatherwise say 

is l)ecause the managers have learned by that tlie climate of the nortii of Europe is 

long experience that the Sunday papers slowly changing to cold, fog, and ilamp. 

are read with more interest that those of Both the Parisian and the Londoner 

any other day, and they wish the criti- seem determined to fortify against this 

cisins of the j)ce//(/i^/-(x, whieh take [ilace inroad of the elements by an increasetl 

on Saturday evenings, to appear in them, dex'otion to alcohol, and since the great 

The continental p:i|icrs are nevci' tired of warof 1.S70-71 Paris has learned todrink 

reviling the English Sunday as a horri- deeply. Both in I'aris and London, eat- 

l)le institution, calculated to jiromote sui- lug and drinking are elevated to the 

cide or despair : and a lively French lady dignity of pursuits. Some of the finest 

onee informed me that the tei-rors of the and most im[iosing edifices in newer 

Channel on a Saturday niilit and the tci- Loudon are joint-stock restaurants, with 



EUROPE ry sroRM axd calm. 



525 



pnlatinl hnlls nbovo ;iiid deep and wann 
hasemeiits. where juicy steak-s aud chops 
sputter upou tlie grills, and where the 
foamiug ales and wines, presumably 
good, flow freely until the small hours, 
except on Saturday night, when ever}'- 
thing is relentlessly closed ou the stroke 
of twelve; and if "Big Ben," in his 
tower by the Thames, should sound the 
last of his twelve strokes before the bar 
of the publican and the cufi keeper is 
shut, a bully policeman is at hand with 
first a friendly warning and next a 
perera|)tory summons. The rigidity with 
which the laws regulating small matters 
are enforced, in lioth London and Paris, 
is a source of constant wonder to tlie 
American, accustomed to more latitude 
in the carrying out of laws which he 
makes for himself. 

It is odd to remark that the citi- 
zens of each capital constantly reproach 
those of the other witii their lack of 
knowledge of the art of cookery. It 
is a firm article of faith in the French- 
man's calendar that the P^uglish are 
savage in tlieir appetites, and have no 
national dishes ; while the Englishman is 
unshaken in his conviction that the 
French live upon messes aud slops, and 
numerous bits and corners of things of 
which the fastidious stomach of the 
Anglo-Saxon would not allow him to pai'- 
take. The real fact is that good and 
wholesome cooking is to l>e found in 
the homes of the middle classes in each 
of the great cities, and that when you 
come to the tables of the nobility, the 
merchant princes, aud the noiiveojix 
riches, in London or Paris, you find their 
dinners composites made up by eosmo- 
politan cooks, and showing a choice not 
always in harmony with the laws of 
health, from the luxuries of every country 
under the sun. Strong and long pota- 
tions have gone out of fashion in the 



highest society in England. There is no 
longer heavy drinking at lunch or dinner. 
It is j-eputed bad form : and in Paris it 
was never good form outside the (lonr- 
gi'oisie ; as for the '-people" of each 
capital, it drinks whatever comes handy, 
and all it ean get, and for the last few 
years, wretched adulterated .■stuffs have 
been sold in both cities. The populations 
of London and Paris are swindled with 
pale sherries, Marsalas and Beauues, 
St. Emilions, and otliei- seductive fluids 
with exotic names, which are concocted 
out of the strangest materials ; and the 
'oiii ordinaire, a huge bottle of which is 
|)laced before the workman of Paris at 
his noonday meal, conies from a glucose 
factory scarcely half a dozen miles from 
his restaurant. Gone are the festal days 
when, in the lustrous lands of the south, 
the soldier aud the [leasant i)aid for their 
wines by the hour and not l»y the bottle, 
— -having, for a modest subscription, 
free access to the casks at the raliKn/ts. 
In London, the omnipresent beer-can 
still holds its place in the popular fancy, 
and beer does its work in keeping hun- 
dreds of thousands of artisans and all the 
serving classes in a befuddled state of 
content, under conditions which might 
otherwise arouse their liveliest com- 
plaints. 

To the American mind the importance 
attaching to the food supply in England 
especially is very striking. You o|ien 
the morning |)aper and you lind columns 
ui)on colunms on the mutton from Aus- 
tralia, the wheat fiom Dakota, the Rus- 
sian and Hungarian supplies of grain, 
the prospects of a crop in Egypt, the 
bad harvests because of the rain in Eng- 
lish counties, and all this treated with 
an earnestness which betokens its na- 
tional importance. The Paris paper 
lightly gossips of Lainartinein his palmy 
days, or tells a tale of Louis Philippe or 



;")^() EUROfE IN STURM AM) CALM. 

N;iiioli'i)n I. Till? London papur griqi- Imt he is entliiisiastic, when the stranfjor 
ph's with the [iriililenih; of tile erouileil is not liy. in liis praise of Englisli onler, 
ipiai'teis of the East End, and waxes res|)eet for law, tiie <^rand regularity of 
eiocpient over tlie " dead meat supply." I'arlianient with its aneient formulas and 
Out of this struggle for food, this reeog- imposing traditions, the modest |ireten- 
iiition of the faet that the nourishment sions of royalty, and the po[iidaritv of 
must and does come from wiiliout, has its representatives, and although he dcjes 
grown the "Imperial poliey"of Great enjoy seeing the lion's paw caught in 
Britain, with its Woohvieh, its navies the net, still, when the lion roars, he 
which sweep the seas, its tremendous ae- cheers as h.nidly as if Eugland had not 
cumulation of money in colonial enter- been his secular enemy, iiad not invaded 
prises, its ventiu'esoine speculation in his coinitry fourteen times, and had not 
countries thousands of miles away, and sat in Calais town for more than three 
probably its tremendous antipathy to hundred years. The Londoner of high 
|)rotection. Twenty years :igo, Eiance, an<l low ilegree showed how intense was 
plctiiorii- and [iioiid, lidiciiled England his real admiration for Paris when she 
loi- this close attriitiou to tin- food ques- was in her great stiuggle, and while he 
tion ; lint now the crisis has fallen- u|)on is wandering about the avenues of the 
Fr:incc also, and her legislators, ceasing capital on his Easter holiday, or in mid- 
to quarrel vainly among tliemsehes over suunner, when the whole city seems 
idle questions of ••grouiis" and dynas- transformed into a beautiful garden filled 
ties, (■((/(' factions and church clicpies, with stately palaces, he is hearty in his 
begin to talk of protective duties on compliments, and it is not until he gets 
foreign wheat; and the word 7 "j /'A' is, on home again, and has lost the thin edge 
some days, f<jund as often as the word of his souvenirs of travel, that he begins 
pictiin' in the scholarl}* and thouulitful anew to consider the Frenchman as [uiine 
French pei'iodicals. to frogs, as delicient in manly strength, 
Finally, London and Paris have an and, jiossibly, in need of moral liackbone. 
intense and well-grounded respect for Yet there is not so nnich intercourse Ijc- 
eaeh other, which each is always doing tween the two capitals as might be sup- 
its utmost to conceal under an assumed [losed from their proximity. It is said 
cynicism and critical coldness. Yoiu' that but fifty-five thousand English peo- 
Parisian talks of the fogs, the blackness, pic came to the great Paris Exhibition 
and the gin |ialaces, and the lirutality of of 1878, and in ISliT the number must 
the Anghj-Saxoii with gn-at contempt ; have been less. 



EUROPE JN STORM AND CALM. 



527 



CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN. 



The Germans at Dieppe. — The English Channel. — An Effective Fortification. — • The ** Precious Isle set in 
the Silver Seji." —The North Sea Co.ist. — English Seaside Resorts. — The White Cliffs of 
En;jrlancl. — The Great Commercial Highway. — George Peabody at Portsmouth. 



IT i.s saiil that whi-ii the Germaus were 
at Dieiipe, they indulged in some 
speculatiou as to the ease with which the 
Channel eouhl be crossed, aud England 
invaded. The3' might have erected a 
column to their speculations, like the 
" Napoleon's Column" which stands 
on the heights of Boulogne, and as it 
weaves to and fro in the brisk salt 
winds which blow over the cliff, serves 
to remind the passers hy of the vanity of 
Napoleon First's great plan. The Ger- 
man hosts were wild with triumph in 
those days of 1870, when they talked so 
coolly of a bold enterprise, and they 
■ were perhaps pardonable. The French 
have long since given u|i any wild 
schemes for the invasion of the island 
which stands to the uorthward, boldly 
rising out of the stormy waters, the 
"precious isle set in a silver sea" of 
which Shakespeare spoke so fondly ; and 
whatever may be the ambitious dreams 
of the German Chancellor, they can 
scai-cely have extended so far as to com- 
prehend within their airy scope a liostile 
excursion from Amsterdam or Rotterdam 
to Harwich or Dover. If some day the 
absorbing process of which one now 
hears so much is completed, and Ger- 
many gains a new shore line on the North 
Sea, tliere may be much bluster about 
coercing England ; but the time for that 
has not jet coiue. 

The English, however, are fully awake 
to the possibility of danger, and their 
channel and north-easterly coasts are 



amplj' fortified. The defences of the 
Tiiames, and of the roadway of Dover. 
the entrenched camp of Plymouth, the 
great works at Milford Ilaven and Pem- 
liroke, awaktn the admiration even of 
the jealous Continental powers ; and the 
forlilications of Portsmouth Harbor, 
where hundreds of thousands of pounds 
liave been spent in the creation of ar- 
mored forts, seem to leave little to be 
feared. The gigantic guns in the forts 
on the pier at Dover are among the 
wonders of Europe. Yet although the 
project of a tunnel underneath the chalky 
bed of the channel has been agitated for 
more than twenty years, it h.as made but 
little practical progress. It is of no avail 
that the French protest that such a 
tunnel can in no case he made use of for 
military purposes, that it might be neu- 
tralized by act of Conference, that it 
could be effectively neutralized by act of 
dynamite, that no force sufficient to 
capture even a small town could tmder 
the most extraordinary circumstances be 
forced through it; John Bull prefers to 
distrust the foreigner, as he distrusted 
him at the beginning of the century, 
when he was striking at him with all his 
might and main. The channel has been 
crossed by balloon, crossed by hardy 
swimmers, who had not the fear of 
sharks before their eyes. Human beings 
have done their best to bring the "silver 
streak " into contempt and show that it 
is not difficult to traverse ; yet England 
considers it her practical fortification. 



5l'8 EUROTE AV fiTORM AXD CALM. 

I'spi'c.-iallv wluMi sIr' sets iiHoat i>ii it luT wliicli clashcMl with lier interests or with 

suiicrli ClKUHiel fleet, a floatiiiii; fortresis her ainliitioiis. She |"iiiits lier eannun 

wliich, in normal tinii'S, may be ordered at tile Continent, and at the same lime 

away ti^ any tlanner jxiint, lint in periods professes desire for alisolute peace with 

of distnrbanee on the northern part of all Europe. 

the Continent is at its post. The island A wonderfnl coast Hue is this of tlie 
f<.irtress has round about it atremendons Nortii Sea and ihc I-".nulish Cliannel ou 
moat filled witli the most capricious and the Continental side, with its ancient his- 
diflicult waves in the woi'ld. The coast- toric cities, ami its bustle of nineteenth- 
nuard s(juadron, willi its iron-clad tur- ceuturv inovcuieiil and commerce. At 
ret-sliips, its torju'do boats, and some a fishing villagr li\c miles from Bou- 
of the "wooden walls" which are still logne, one may fancy himself trans|iorted 
\;did, is vci'V powerful. Twenty yeai's back to the IMiddlc ^\u;cs. There is little 
ago tlie coast fortilications of the I'niti'd if any hint of modernism in costume or 
Kingilom were absurdly insullicii'iit. architecture oi' anything else therein. 
The '• Martello" towers of tlu' old days In the Fi'ench coast towns, Cherliourg. 
could be knocked to pieces in a few Ilavie, Dieii[ie, lloulogne. and Calais, 
miiudes withnicidern artillery; butwiien there is a curious contrast of tlie olil au<l 
iilled camion came in, the English ileter- new ; fishing towns nesth' aliont file 
miiic(l to fortify fhcir coasts so that they churches on the iiillsides, and down liy 
sliould have no cause f(U- regret. tlie water are iini' ipiays and im|iosing 
After 18(ll> tlie woilc went on with warehouses. Of tliese French coast 
nreat rapiditv, and the new [lort of towns, Calais and ])ic|)[ie are, perhaps, 
Lowestoft, file huge group (jf batteries the iiKJst iiictuii'sijne. (.)ii the breezy 
at the mouth of the Stowe at Harwich, heights of Sainte Adresse, back- of 
the works at Shoelmryuess and at Slieer- Havre, are innuineralile didfenv.r and 
ness, the IIoo and I )aiiictt forts [irotet't- \illas, wliere the merchant princes who 
ing tiio great arsenal at Chatham, the unce owned great fleets have retired to 
jierfected defenses of Dover Castle, ami tlie enjoyment of fortunes such as their 
tile splendiil lines of forts wliicli iiedge successors may never liope to make. 
aliout tile iiKiriiime establishment at Trouvilie, on its [iretty sands, behind 
IMvmoutli, — forts liaving granite walls its black rock's, and backed iiy an ex- 
three feet tliick, strong euoiigli to defy (|nisite, almost i<lyllic, succession of rural 
almost anv knnwii projectile, ami tlieir glades tilled wifli picturesque Xormaii 
embrasures furiiislicd with uictalli<- buck- farms, is a famous niidsiumiK'r rciiih'X- 
lers. — all these iiumense and forniidable m/is for the fasliioualile world. At 
chains of ii-on. steel, and stone bulwarks Trouvilie. under the Second I",m|iire. 
have lieen paid for by the nation un- Septemlier was the jiigli season ; when 
complaiuingly, Imt they have added the courts arose and the magistrate's 
enormously to its bunleiis. (ireaf ISrit- went to liathe, ;dl the social world fol- 
ain complains liiil litlle iif the debt con- lowed them. All along the coast of 
sequent on playing at the game of war. Normandy and ]>rittuiy smart towns 
Jlore than two-thirds of her national are springing up. iilled with hotels and 
indebtedness is due to one long series of country houses created for the residence 
wars which liave been waged by her of tlie English, the American, the Pm'I- 
within our nio<leiu days against [lowers gian, and the Geriuuu travellers, who 



EVROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



52it 



like to spend a few weeks In- the Noi-th- 
eni Sea. The English come in throngs 
to the French bathing places, and the 
French go in turn to walk over the cliffs 
of Dover, or to dwell for a time in the 
gorgeons hotels at Brighton. An Eng- 
lish duke takes up his station at Dieppe, 
and a French duke goes to Portsea, or 
to Ventnor. or some other ro- 
mantic nook on the pretty 
shores of the Isle of Wight. 

The English coast towns on 
the Channel are perhaps less 
cosmopolitan than their con- 
tinental rivals opposite. Hut 
some of them, like Brighton, 
are quite splendid. Brighton 
is more than ever " London- 
super-mare," now that the 
swift express trains from the 
central railway stations in the 
metropolis are so frequent. A 
famous novelist, a poet fond 
of contemplating the waves, 
or a smart scientist, will have 
their houses at Brighton and 
yet keep in the Loudon move- 
ment, getting away from the 
smoke and steam of the dingy 
metroi)olis as night settles 
down over it. Time was when 
Bright(^n had a iihysiogn(jniy 
of its own ; Intt this is now 
gone. The long promenade, 
with its front of nol)le hotels 
and villas, shaken and rattled 
by the impetuous wind, might 
be taken for a quarter of London which 
had been accidentally blown out to sea. 
Hastings has more flavor than Brighton. 
It is, especially in midsuunner, charming, 
and at Easter, when crowded with visitoi's, 
almost as gay as its more fashionable 
neighbor. 

The characteristic features of an Eng- 
lish seaside resort are enormous and 



monumental hotels, solemn as Egyptian 
pyramids, and sometimes almost as 
gloomy, yet with substantial comfort 
bestowed within their massive walls. 
But the curse of the English fashionable 
hotel is its intense devotion to regula- 
tions. Everything seems arranged by 
rote, until one grows to fancv himself 




THE SCOTCH VOLLNTEEliS AT BUIGUTON. 



in a i)rison rather than in a hostelry. 
One must regulate life by stern method ; 
and this the Briton does readily : and 
it is noticeable that he grumltles only 
when he travels abroad, submitting at 
home to small tyrannies quite past com- 
prehension. After the hotel, in im|)or- 
tance, comes the " pier." A flrst-class 
bathing town often has two piers, and 



530 



EviiorE IX sron.u axd cal.v. 



on those (Inring stnictnivs. wliicli run 
far out into tlie stormy watei'. foncert- 
roonis and rostanrants are eoustrnt-ted, 
and one has tlic pleasure of riskino' hat 
or bonnet in a struggle with tlie wind, in 
company with thousands of otheis, 
every morning, wliile listening to tlie 
mnsie of a regimental hand. In im- 
portant naval and military stations, tliere 
is almost no show of uniforms, for the 
English otlicer doffs his eostume as soon 



hend the weekly excursions of throngs of 
eorkncys. 

At the French seaside resort, the 
Casino, with its gay crowds of richly 
costumed ladies of the u|i|icr. middle, 
and tlie lower worlds, and the beach, 
witli its freakish and perfectly unre- 
strained caruivals of bathing, furnishes, 
perhaps, mi>re amusement than can be 
found in any English coast town. The 
continental ])eoiiles do not go to the 




ox THE SANDS AT BKIGIITON. 



as he is off dutv. The variegated as- 
pect of the street of a German garrison 
town, where hundreds of officers are 
clanking their swords and perpetually 
s.aluting, is unknown in England. The 
hotel, the pier, the promenade along 
the siiore, tlie daily asseinlilage. esjie- 
cially in ports like Dover and Folke- 
stone, to see the new arrivals and to 
comment upon them, — these, joined to 
the most discreet bathing, in which the 
sexes are separated with prodigious care, 
are tlie main points observable at Eng- 
lish seaside resorts, unless we eompre- 



seaside for rest or recreation, they go 
for jollity, perhaps for dissipation, for 
frolics. The English ride, drive, walk, 
jilay lawn tennis, bathe, and feed, on 
scientific principles ; they are not in pur- 
suit of jileasure so much as of health 
and repose. 

Verv beautiful and impressive are the 
wliite cliffs of England, rising out of the 
Channel on a calm summer's day, and 
very remote and much-to-be-lougecl-for 
do they seem when the traveller is toil- 
ing towards them in a diminutive packet 
in the midst of the boiling surges in win- 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



531 



ter. The Channel ports, on cither side, 
are small and inconvenient, and the ciaf t 
which can enter them aft'ord I)ut poor 
aecommodatiou to the traveller. Up and 
down the great highway of the North 
Sea and the Channel, and the w,ay to the 
mid-Atlantic, go tlie silent fleets, great 
lines of steamers trading from Holland 
to the Indies, the German and the Rel- 
gian ships, the enormous argosies on 
their way to Antwerp, now one of the 
principal ports of Europe. The Orient 
pours its riches through this narrow 
strait into the Scheldt and the Zuydcr 
Zee, whence they are dispersed through- 
out the vast domain of (xcrmany and of 
the North. The quays of Antwerp can 
receive and discharge in one day more 
freight-cars than any other tin-ee terminal 
stations in Europe. Antwerp is the 
greatest distributing point on the Conti- 
nent to-daj'. 

When the storms and fogs begin, the 
list of disasters on tlie Channel length- 
ens with frightful raiiidity. Ccjllisions 
must naturally be frequent on a route so 
thronged with craft of all kinds, from 
the huge merchant steamer to the small 
fishing-smack. There is a sudden crash 
in the night ; two great shadowy forms 
have met ; hundreds of lives are lost, 
and the next morning a hundred news- 
papers tell a story of horror. It seems 
as if these disasters were fated to occur 
from time to time. Innocent emigrants 
bound over seas are swept out of exist- 
ence liefore they have got out of sight 
of hind. Now and then the Channel 
swallows up a victim in a most mys- 
terious manner, as it took down the 
" Eurydice" close by the Isle of Wight. 

It is strange that there is so little said 
and sung aljout the Channel in England, 
while so much is made of it in France. 
It is true that tlie English have their 
attention diverted to greater seas and 



narrower escni)es farther from liomc. Imt 
they have produced no one who has sung 
or spoken so melodiously or forcibly of 
the historic strait as tlie old gray-haired 
poet who lived on a Channel island for 
half a generation rather than breathe 
the air of Paris with the usurper. Vic- 
tor Hugo is a good sailor, immensely 
fond of the sea, and from his coign of 
vantage in Guernsey, studied the Chan- 




VICTOR HUGO. 

nel as lovingly as in his youth he had 
studied Paris. In his "Toilers of the 
Sea " it is always the phenomena of the 
Channel that he describes, the worn and 
crumbling rocks, the bold shores, the 
tormented waters, the sudden storms, 
the flashing of the lightning, and the 
mysterious and deadly mists of La 
Manehe. He tells with pathetic force 
ill one of his books the story of that 
brave Captain Harvey who went down 
in the Channel on the uiglit nf the ITtli 



532 



EUROPE LY STORM AXD CALM. 



of Mai-cli, 1S70, while making his usual 
trij) in his fine steamshij) the " Xor- 
iiKindy," from Soiitiiarapton to Guern- 
sey. Harvey was known to the vener- 
ahle ixirt, because he had taken him to 
see the review of the English fleet at 
Sheeruess on one occasion, and had 
decorated his ship, saying that he had 
done it '• for the exile." This touched 
Victor IIuud's heart, and when Captain 
Harvey's ship, the " Normandy," collided 
witii a great screw steamer going from 
Odessa to Grinisliy witli a load of five 
hundred tons of wheat, and went down 
in the mists and the waves, he gave iiim 
such an epitapli as only a Hugd can 
give. He drew a picture of the no))le 
captain standing erect on the liridge, 
revoh er in hand, keepinu' l)ack the self- 
ish and uiu'uly, forcing into the boats 
one after another all his passengers and 
his crew, saying a pleasant word to a little 
boy who was sent last ; and then rpiietlv 
going down into the wa\i's witii the ship, 
from which he would not lie separated. 
" Evei'v man," said Mctor Hugo, " has 
oni' rigiit, the inalienal>le right of becom- 
ing a hero, and Ca[itain Harvey used his 
right." 

Ft was from Poitsmoutii. in tlie early 
days of 1.S70. that the fine war-ship 
the •• Monarch " sailed for America, hav- 
ing on lioard tlie remains of the great 
Am<'riran merchant who had so long 
made l>ondon his home, and who had 
endowed its poor with so many charities. 
]\Ir. Pealxidv died in Lon<lon, at tlie 



resi<lence of liis friend. Sir Curtis 1, amp- 
son, and while the dead merchant lay in 
state in Westminster Abliey, tlionsands 
of poor came to pay their tribute of re- 
spect to one who had known iiow to 
make so good use of his wealtii. The 
scene at Portsmouth at the time of tlie 
embarkation was quite affecting. Tlion- 
sands of the poorer classes appeared ti 
think it an occasion on which they 
should show special respect, and the de- 
[larture of the " INIonarch " from the 
port, attended liy the capricious little 
corvette the " Plymouth," which h)oked 
like a swallow alongside a liarn when ii; 
the imme<liate neigliborhood of lier IJrit- 
ish convoy, was salute<l )iy the thundei 
of hundreds of cannon. 

I shall never forget tlie quaint remark 
of an olil man at the railway station. 
I inquired of him. on the morning of 
the ceremonv. at wliat time tlie train 
bearing the remains and the delegation 
from London would arrive. '• Well, 
sii-. we arc expecting of Mm down at nine 
o'cloi-k," placing an mdefinalile emphasis 
on the •■ '/;«," whicli iiidicatt'd that in his 
niin<l tlie departed merchant was still a 
\ital [lersonality. 

George Poabody certainly left the 
impress of his talent as well as of his 
nuHiilicence u[)on the great cajiital. and 
it is almost startling to those who had 
known him in life to come uiion his 
bronze fiunre. serenely seated in the 
iiiiilst of the bustling crowd, hard by 
the Poval Exclianue. 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



533 



CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT. 

England's " Silent Highway." — The Sources of Hev Greatness. — Her Protection of Her Trade. — Wool- 
wich the Mighty. — Greenwich and Its History. — The Procession of Commerce. — London's Port. 
— The Docks and Their Revenue. — London Bridge, — Dore in London. 



WE liave said elsewhere that Eiighmd 
has carefull}- defended tlie passes 
of the Thames, the great " silent high- 
way," as it is called, one of the chief 
avennes of the commerce of the world, 
and tlie most miraculous spectacle, when 
international commerce is in its normal 
condition, on the face of the earth. To 
the stranger, however, the first sight of 
the Thames is a disappointment, for no 
foreigner can share the feeling of the 
British tar who, on returning from a long 
cruise in the Levant, looked up with rap- 
tui-e to the cloudy sky above him, as 
he entered the Thames, and exclaimed, 
" Thtmk God ! none of your beastly blue 
sky here ! " There are moments in sum- 
mer when the spectacle of the Thames, 
bearing upon its noble in-coming tide its 
majestic j)rocessioii of barges and light- 
ers, filled with riches from all parts of 
the world, is not only picturesque but pos- 
itively lieautiful. Through the hazy 
siiimmer of a June afternoon this vision 
of the wealth borne obediently by Father 
Thames every day into the metropolis, 
is one not to be forgotten. But the 
blackness of November is nowhere so 
black and dreary as by the Thames side ; 
nowhere does architecture seem so spec- 
tral, fantastic ; nowhere misery so re- 
pulsive, so frightful. The creatures that 
cower in the recesses of Westminster 
Bridge seem far more wretched than the 
poor of Naples or of Duliliu. By day 
the nuid-flats, when the tide is out, with 
their fringe of huge brown, or almost 



blackened, buildings, with the mazes of 
alleys and piers, and innumerous small 
craft flying hither and you, as if hope- 
less of finding their way in the general 
gloom, — all these give a shiver, and one 
is inclined to turn from the contempla- 
tion (if them. 

If the .Seine may now and then be said 
to woo to suicide, it is ditlicult to imag- 
ine the Thames as tempting to self-mur- 
der. It is something to fly from, and 
although iu its muddy waters and its 
slimy ooze poor wretches do now and 
then find death, suicide being punished 
with the greatest rigor by English mag- 
istrates, as a crime against society, eveu 
the hungr}' are wary of jumping in. 

On the Lower Thames we have the 
commerce, and the military pri'iiaratious 
which advance and protect commerce, 
hand in hand. He who watches the 
arrival of the stately fleets from every 
clime under heaven, understands why 
Woolwich, — the vast arsenal and prep- 
aration field of the army, — has its ex- 
istence. England fully understands the 
maxim that " he who trades must be 
prei«ired to fight," and Woolwich is a 
standing advertisement of the British 
willingness to protect her commerce, and 
to seize upon any favorable opportunity 
for aggression where her commerce may 
find a new outlet. 

So too, Greenwich, iu its historic re- 
pose and monumental calm, represents 
the nobility of the British mtirine in a 
worthy manner. There are broad lawns, 



534 



EVROrE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



uohio arcades, o'reat gray lialls lillcd 
with pictures (if battles on sea, chapels, 
iiioiuiineiits, and comfortable homes for 
tiie old sea-dogs, who accept the homage 
and the gratitude of the nation vvitli lie- 
coming dignity. Greenwich gives one 
an idea of what England has di)ue ; 
Woolwich is a i>ei-[ietu:d reminder of 
what England can do. 

There is not nnicli that is romantic on 
the Lower Thames. (Travesend. below 
which are the six great military works 
which protect the entrance to the river, 
is pretty enough in summer time, and is 
full of historical souvenirs. There it 
was that, in l.")2'2, the great emperor, 
Charles V., embarked with Ilemy VIII. 
and Cardinal Wolsey in a procession of 
barges waiting to receive them ; there 
that Henry VIII. landed when he was 
on his way to invade France ; and there 
that Charles I., when he v.-as a prince, 
and when starting on his harum-scarum 
trip to the court of Spain, narri_)wly es- 
caped recognitiim and arrest by the 
ferr\iuan for whoui he had n(.) silver, 
and whose palm lie was oliligeil to cross 
with a piece of gi^ld. 

I'"r(im Gravesend, in tlie old days, cuni- 
briius l.iarges. sometimes marvellously 
decorated with carved and gilded orna- 
liients, used to ascend the Thames ; and 
it was not uncoimuou to see a royal train 
of these biirges, thirty-five or forty in 
innnlier, slowly making their way to the 
upper reaches; of the river, escorting 
some majesty who had come from foreign 
parts and landed at Gravesend. To- 
dav. the town is a yachting station, where 
tlie Royal Thames Yacht Club has its 
head-quarters, in the season, and where 
tliousands of fashionaiile folk go when- 
ever the races are announced. Up river, 
a little way, is Greeuhithe. another 
favorite resort for yachtsmen, and re- 
nowned as the place from which Sir 



.lolm Franklin saile(l, in l.s4r), on his dis- 
astrous voyage to the Arctic Ocean. 
Still farther u|i, on the left, is the nolile 
park at Greenwich, on a lofty point in 
wliich stands the famous observatory, an 
humble grcjuji of buildings without any 
aichitectnral pretensions whatever. 
Greenwich is famou.s for that peculiar 
di'licacy of the Thames, the iufmitely 
little whitebait, at wliose shrine annnally 
worship all the ministers of the Crown, 
who even go down to Greenwich to in- 
dulge in a dinner at which siieeches, 
supposed to be pregnant with the coming 
political policy of the year, are pro- 
nounced. 

The old manoi' of Greenwich was a 
royal I'esideuce in the fourteentii century, 
an<l it is on record that Edward I. "made 
an offering of seven shillings at each 
holy cross" in the chai)el of the Virgin 
at Greenwich in l;3U0. Tliere stood, in 
I4-"i-'!, a palace, romantically known as 
the ^lanor of Plaisaunce. This was 
owned liy riuuiphrey, Duke of Glouces- 
ter, and at his death, the manor and the 
palace reverted to the Crown, Henry 
\TII., who was born at (ireenwich, was 
verv fond of the old town, and sjient 
large sums of money in tiie erection, 
says an ancient chronicler, of sumptuous 
houses. '• Greenwich," says Lambarde, 
•' was, when Henry VIII. came to the 
throne, a pleasant, perfect, and princely 
jialace." There the king married his 
tiist wife, Katharine of Aragou ; there he 
astonished all England liv introducing 
at the feast of Christmas, in 1.511, a 
masked dance " after the maner of 
Italic ;" and there, in 1.5oo, the Princess 
Elizabeth was liorn. Greenwich Hos- 
pital, which covers a wider area than any 
royal [lalaceof England except Windsor, 
is, to my thinking, one of tiie finest 
liiiiidings on the Thames. There is 
nothing in central London, not even 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



535 



Hi 



O 

z 



r 




53G 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



Somerset House, which can be comiiared 
with it. Its lofty cupolas aud its haiul- 
some colouuades rival iu beauty the tiuest 
of tlie continental palaces : and the 
•' painted hall" is one of the most unique 
museums iu Euroiie. From the observ- 
atory there is a pretty view of the river 
and the perpetual procession of ships. 
It is said that this observatory stands 
upon the site of a tower which, iu Eliza- 
beth's time, was called " Mirefleur," and 
is supposed to be the " Tower of Mira- 
rtores," referred to in the celebrated 
romance of "Amadis de Gaul." 

In Woolwich, over opposite, but few 
thiuirs of importance have ever ha|i- 
peued. The town is mean and poor in 
ap|ic:u-auce, stragiiliug along the Thames 
side in uncomely fashion. The inhabi- 
tants have a local witticism to the effect 
that "more wealth passes thrdiigh 
Woolwicji than through any other town 
in tlic world." lUit, unfortunately, tliis 
wealth is in tlie liolds of ships which do 
not sto}) there. The Royal Dock-yai'd 
extends along the river for more than a 
mile cm the western side of the town, 
and, iilic tliat at Dciitford, was founded 
liy Henry ^TI1. For at least three 
hundred and fifty years the work of 
preparing and maiutaiuing England's su- 
|)remacy at sea went on almost uninter- 
rnptcdly in this conunouplace and ordi- 
nary-looking government establishment. 
Old Pepys, wiio was a ■■ clerk (.)f the 
acts of the navy." has told us much of 
Woolwich, and the grt'at ■• business and 
confusion " wliirh i)revaileil tiiei'e in his 
time. In the latter half of the last ceu- 
tui-y. and in the long wars at the l)egin- 
niui; of tlie present one, Woolwich grew. 
Tile national strength seemed dr.ained 
into it. lunnense granite wharves and 
docks, ranges of worksliops and ware- 
houses, sprang nji : and wlien steam and 
iron were brought into use iu tlie navv, 



.Sir John Reunie remodelled, with won- 
derful skill, all these docks and work- 
shops, created a vast steam- reverse 
basin, mast-slips, and river-walls, and 
■Woolwich was soon as well equipped for 
building first-class iron steamers as it 
had l)een for sending forth the old 
wooden '' first-rates." But it was found 
insnfticient for the buildiugof new armor- 
clad ships : their enormous tonnage could 
not be launched forth on so shallow and 
crowded a river ; and so, in course of 
time, Woolwich Dock-yard fell into dis- 
use, and has uow been transferred to 
the War Department, and absoilied into 
the domain of the Royal Arsemd. This 
arsenal is the only one in the kingdom ; 
all other military establishments at duck- 
yards receive their supplies from Wool- 
wich, and from Woolwich go forth all 
the stores for the iunumerous campaigns 
of England in foreign lands. Ten 
thousand men are here, in normal times, 
constantly employed in bnildiugs and 
yards, which cover three hundred and 
thirty-three acres ; and when England is 
making a special effort the number of 
workmen is nearly doubled. Ilci-e are 
the licavy artillery for the land and the 
sea service, — the carriages, tlic shot and 
shell, the cartridges, anunuuiti(.iu for 
small arms, torpedoes toiirotect the c(jast, 
and everything for the trade of war, 
which is a distinct branch of trade, — a 
trade to protect all other trades. 

In the chief laboratory there are more 
than five hundred machines of various 
sorts iu operation. There the Martiui- 
Ileiu-}' bullet is m.ade at the rate of a 
million a week, and, if need be, three 
millions weekly can be turned out. In 
the cap factory are machines [iroducing 
thirty thousand caps per hour ; anil the 
gnu factories, where the great thirty- 
eight-ton guns are made, and where one 
mav see the eightv-one-ton gun, which, 



EUROPE /.V STORM AXD CALM. 



537 



with a charge of three hmxlreil jiouiuls, 
will send a shot of one thousand four 
hundred and sixty pounds with an initial 
velocity of one thousand six hundred 
and forty feet per second, are very ex- 
tensive. The coiling machines, the fur- 
nace, with its forty-ton hammer, which 
cost £50,000, with its steam-crane, 
which can lift one hundred tons with 
its tongs, which weigh sixty tons, 
and takes a dozen men to manreu- 
\i'e, with the doors of its furnaees, 
which look like the gates of infernal 
region, with its turnery, where the tubes 
and breech-pieces of thirty-eight-ton 
guns are handled like toys, with its 
rifle ordnance factory, its uniting fur- 
naces, its pattern-room, in which exact 
duplicates of every kind of gun made in 
the arsenal are shown to those of whom 
the authorities are not susfiicious, the 
forges, with their steam-hammers, their 
travelling-cranes, their lathes and shears, 
and hydro-pneumatic apparatus, all on 
a gigantic scale, — all these form a daz- 
zling galaxy of wonders, and confirm 
the opinion of the visiting foreigner that 
order and foresight are the first qualities 
in the Anglo-Saxon mind. 

The stores, or Control Department, as 
it is called in the military jargon, form a 
most extraordinary spectacle at Wool- 
wich, and from these stores ten thousand 
troops can be at any moment su})plied 
with everything that is necessary for im- 
mediate entrance on a campaign. This 
is not so astonishing now as compared 
with the matchless preparations for war 
in Germany ; but at the time when it was 
first done, there was nothing like it, or 
at all to compare with it, in all Europe. 

But we must not linger at Woolwich 
longer than to peep at the garrison 
buildings and the Eoyal Artillery bar- 
racks, — one of the few imposing struct- 
ures in the town, glance at the Crimean 
meuKirial. the bronze statue of Jcjlm 



Bell, or at the great bronze gun captured 
in India in 1828, or at the Royal Artil- 
leiy Museum and the Military Academy, 
founded by George II. It was at this 
academy that the unlucky Prince Im- 
perial, the son of Napoleon III., finished 
his military education as a queen's 
scholar, and his school-fellows paraded 
at Chiselhnrst when his body was brought 
home from South Africa, and buried be- 
side that of his father in the new home 
of the Impei'ial exiles. 

Hatton, the writer, in the earl}' part 
of the last centur}', said that London 
with Westminster resembled the shape 
of a great whale, Westminster being the 
uuder-jaw ; St. James's Park, the mouth ; 
Pall Mall, etc., northward, the upper- 
jaw ; Cock and Pie Fields, or the meet- 
ing of the seven streets, the eye ; the 
rest, with the city, and southward to 
Smithfield, the body ; and thence east- 
ward to Limehouse, the tail ; '• and it is 
proliably," he adds, in his quaint descrip- 
tion, •• according to the proportion, the 
largestof towns, as the whale is of fishes." 

From a point below Woolwich to Lon- 
don Bridge the river is known as the 
Port of London, — a port six and a 
half miles long, with a depth, at low- 
water, of even twelve feet at London 
Bridge. The tide of this Tiiames is 
quite remar'Kable. The water rises twice 
a day to the height of seventeen feet at 
the Bridge, and, in extreme spring tides, 
to twent\'-two feet. On this Lower 
Thames one finds perpetual annisemeut 
in the contemplation of the docks, on 
which more than 8,000,000 sterling 
have been expended in the present cent- 
ury. Nearly all of them are on the 
east side of the town, and have been 
brought into existence by joint-stock 
companies. Altogether they cover about 
eight hundred acres. The most exten- 
sive of them, the AVest India Docks, 
begun in 1800 by William I'itt, were 



538 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



fliiislicil ill two yeiii'S- Tlu-ir aix'u, of 
tliree liuiulred arri's, is suiToumU'il liy 
walls live feet tliiek, and the chief im- 
[lort dock is one hundred and seventy 
yards lonir ]>y one hundred and sixty- 
six wide. It is said that in the ware- 
houses of these docks one 
hundred and eighty thousand 
tons of goods can be stored at 
ouce. In 1813 the oross 




GUARPIANS OF THE TOWER. 

revenue returne(lon a capital of £1,200,- 
()()() of this company was £449,000. The 
St. Catherine's Docks, close l)y the 
frowniuo- ancient Tower of London, and 
near the centre of the great commercial 
metroi)olitan market, furnish an admir- 
able instance of the resistless power of 
commerce in making room for itself, 
even in the most crowded centres. The 
creation of these docks, found necessary 



in 1.S27, necessitated the displacement 
of nearly twelve thousand inhabitants 
and the pulling down of thirteen hun- 
dreil houses. The Surrey, the London, 
the P^ast India, the Commercial Docks, 
all cover scores of acres ; and in one 
single warehouse in the London Docks 
one hundred and twenty thousand chests 
of tea can be stored atone time. These 
are the great wine docks of Loudon ; and 
here from forty to forty-five thousand 
pifies of wine are always in stock. 

Loudon liridge is certainly one of the 
most curious and remarkalile spectacles 
in Kurope. Seeu from one of the bi-idges 
aliove, upou the Thames, or from the 
f.hore, it jiresents to the view an eudless 
[iriicessioii (;f loaded vans, drays, car- 
riages, carts, and omnibuses ; and, as one 
cannot see the wheels of these vehicles, 
tlicv seem to lie moving by magic along 
the stone coiiing of the great structure. 
In the immediate neighliorhood of this 
artery of travel, spanning the stream, 
are some of the noblest of the London 
monuments. The Tower is not far 
away : the streets h\ the water side are 
crowded with tratlie to an extent the 
description of wliich would seem almost 
int'redible. lUockades exist for hours ; 
draymen expend their vital force in 
oaths innumerable. All in vain : the 
avenues of London are too small for the 
counnerce which encumlier them. Dorc' 
was fond of wandering in this i)art of 
London, and once told me liow much he 
enjoved the stuitefaetion of the team- 
sters, wiio, engaged in a bk)ckade, and 
wedged in among other teams, could not 
prevent him from sketching them, but 
liew into a passion and shook their fists 
at him. This weird and curious tjuarter 
<.if London especially struck the fancy 
of the great French artist, who has left 
on record most trntliful impressions of 
the king and narrow alleys lined with high 
warehouses. 



ECU OPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



539 



CHAPTER FIFTY-XINE. 



Up Eiver. — Tlie Historic Thames. — The University Riices. — Oxford and Camhridfre. — The Great Eace 
of 1869. — Harvard rs. Oxford. — Putney. — AVinihledoii. — Hammersmith. — Mortlal<e. — Thames 
Tactics. — X Reminiscence of diaries Dickens. — His Powers as an After r)inuer Speaker. 



ABOVE Blackfi-iar's In-idge the 
Thames has been fViuged -nithin 
the last twenty years by a stately em- 
baiikiuent which rivals the haiulsoinest 
quays of Ptiris, Berlin, and Vienna. 
Ranged along this line embankment are 
the liistorie gardens of the Temple, with 
tlieir monnmental new structures in 
striking contrast with the older, ding)", 
and more interesting ones of Somerset 
House, one of the finest monuments in 
London, with huge masks of ocean and 
the eight rivers, the Thames, the Hum- 
ber, the Weuse, the Medway, the Dee, 
the Tweed, the Tyue, and the Severn, 
on the quay stones of the river arches or 
water gates. This Thames front of 
Somerset Mouse is enriched with columns, 
and jjilasters in Venetian style. In 
front is a terrace under which is the 
central water gate, and on the btilustrade 
is a colossal figure of the Thames. This 
is one of the few monuments which were 
created in the reign of George III., and 
in this handsome building tlie Inland 
Revenue has its home. Here the biiths, 
deaths, and marriages of the inhabitants 
of England are inscribed. Just above 
Somerset House is the Waterloo Bridge, 
which is led up to by Wellington street, 
a fact whicii never fails to attract the 
attention of Frenchmen visiting London. 
The new embankment describes a stately 
curve, and sweeps around past the new 
handsome cjnarter where once stood 
Northumberland House, but now filled 
with mammoth hotels and clubs, and 



theatres as fine as those of Vienna or 
Paris ; past the Whitehall Gardens and 
the governmental quarters, and finishes 
at Westminster Bridge, just beyond whicli 
stand the Houses of Parliament. On 
the other side of the Thames we have 
a London, unimpressive, yet startling 
in magnitude, a laliyrinth of streets", 
all of which look very much alike, 
with undecorated house fronts, with 
shops which seem all cut out after 
one pattern, wiili here and there vast 
breweries, potteries, warehouses, and 
an occasional mansion rising out of the 
surrounding mediocrity. Everywhere 
one is confronted with the spectacle of 
the daily struggle for food on tiie part 
of the very [xior. Everywhere is the 
same sharp contrast between the luxurv 
attendant upon wealth, and the ci'ime 
attendant upon long-continued poverty. 
The great rambling structure over the 
Thames opposite AVestminster Palace 
ai tracts your attention ; it is a hositital. 
Further up is Lanilieth with the Arch- 
liishi>[)"s Palace, — Lauibctli, a great city 
by itself, confronted on the other side by 
Westminster, another vast community, 
and one, it is said, where more wretched- 
ness and misery are concentrated than in 
any other part of London. Yet through 
it run avenues filled with luxurious houses 
and with splendid hotels. Out of it 
rises the great gray Abbey, and near b}' 
are the breezy expanses of St. James's 
Park ; and in ten minutes one may walk 
out of slums such as no other capital in 



J40 



EUROPE LY STOR.U AXD CALM. 



Christendoiii can show, to the vuiv iiates 
of P>uekiiiy;liaiii Tahice, whert', in the 
season, tl\e C^ueen reeeives, at what she is 
pleased to call a Drawing-room, those 
ladies who have arrived at the felicity of 
a court presentation. 

PassinLi; in review our journey up tjie 
Tiiames, we find that the fu'st eon- 
si)icuous object on the stream was Wool- 
wich, and midway between Woolwicli 
the Arsenal, and AVindsor the Palace, 
is the Parliament House, whence the 
policy of the nation radiates upwaiils to 
the sovereign and downwards to the engi- 
neers and artisans, who put the national 
will in force. But we will come back 
to the Parliament later on, and meantime 
continue our journey up tlie stream [last 
the walls of gloomy Milll)ank Prison, 
|)ast C'lielsea, with its memories of Car- 
Ivle, and its rows of unromantic-looking 
liouses, and on t(j Putney, Hammersmith, 
Mortlake, Richmond, Twickenliam, and 
Hampton C'oiut. picturesque and verdur- 
ous resorts, whicii seem to l)elong to 
another world when compared with the 
oozy marshes and mud-flats of the lower 
stream. Tlie stretch of river from Put- 
ucv. or, more jii-oiierly speaking, from 
Hammersmith ISridge to Mortlake, is 
specially renowned as the annual contest 
gronnil of the I'niversity crews ; and 
the charms of this bed of stream liave 
been reciti'd in i)rose and verse by a 
liun(h'ecl aiitliors. All classes of London 
society are annually agitatctl over several 
events which belong to the domain of 
sfiort, ami in other countries would 
interest only a certain class. In the 
British Islands no one feels aliove attend- 
ing a horse-race, and aquatic sports are 
distinctly witliin the range of aristocratic 
anmsements. 

(_)f late years boating and boat-racing 
liave ceased to be classed as healthful 
sports, perhaps because of the furious 



onslaught made upon them by Charles 
Keade, perhaps because so many cliam- 
})ions who were thought to be certain of 
long and rolmst life have turned up as 
confirmed invalids of shaky teiuu-e of 
existence just after their I'inversity 
course and boat trimnphs were over. 

It is not ditlicult to understand why 
tlie inliabitants of an islaml and the 
greatest sailors in the world should lie 
intensely interested in a contest of oars- 
men ; but the stranger is struck with the 
vehemence of oiiiuion manifested on this 
weighty toj)ic even bj' cabmen, and huck- 
sters, and persons who might be supposed 
to confine their interest to sul)jects con- 
nected with their daily toil. Charles 
Hiekens repoi'ted that, shortly befoi'e the 
international contest on the Thames in 
I'Sdl) he heard one cabman confidentially 
remark to another that he hojjcd the 
Americans would win, but that he wa.s 
sure they would not. The cabman's con- 
fident proi)hecy was correct : the Ameri- 
cans did not win, and undoubtedly 
because of the reasons which were 
assigned by their English ciitics. There 
was never a race in the whole calendar 
of the annual contests which awakened 
so much interest and national feeling as 
this one, in which the trans-Atlantic 
cousins hail at first seemed to make so 
good a figure. Their training was watched 
with jealous scrutiny, and renowned 
lioatmen like Harry Kelly indulged in 
daily mysterious bulletins, all oi which 
seemed to jioint to the conclusion that 
tlic laui-cls would be carried over sea. 
The old I'niversity of Harvard had sent 
a goodly crew in the highest sense repre- 
sentative of the whole country. There 
was even a man from far-off Oregon, 
— a man who had but to a[)pear on the 
river to excite admiring cheers, for he 
was a young Hercules. Trainers, writers, 
and loungers siieut a merry three weeks' 



EUROPE AV STORM AXD CALM. 



f)41 



time at ancient Putney, walking over 
the breezy downs of Winiljledon, and 
along the banks of the stream. dro[)- 
ping in at lioating-ciubs, lunching in 
balconies overlooking I'eedy hills, or 
following at respectful distance the flash- 
ing oar blades of the practising crews. 
The International race was ai>pointed 
for the midsummer season, long after 
the usual time for the University race, 
and iiuly a few weeks Ijefore the fashion- 
able world usually departs from the 
capital. But, despite its lateness in the 
season, it seemed as if all Loudon, if 
not all England, had come forth to wit- 
ness the contest. 

The various points along the stream 
on this University race-course are among 
the most interesting in the neighlxirhood 
of London. Putney, itself a part of 
the manor of Wimbledon, was a favorite 
resort of Queen Elizabeth, where she 
visited old John Lacy, a wealthy mem- 
ber of the C'lothworkers' Company of 
her time ; and one of the last visits of 
her life was to Putney, where she dined 
on her way to Richmond, but two 
months before her death. At Putney the 
|)arliamentary generals had their head- 
quarters when Charles I. was at Hamp- 
ton Court. Cromwell long had his 
abode in a house in Putney, althougli 
the exact site of the edifice is unknown 
to-day. Just across the stream is Ful- 
ham. with a noble lawn shaded liy mag- 
niticent trees, and a bishop's residence 
not far away. At Putney, too. Gibbon 
was liorn, in 17;!7. and the house in 
which the great historian spent his youth 
and a portion of his mature life was 
aftei'wards the residence of the cele- 
brated traveller, EobertWood, author of 
the '• Kuins of Palmyra." At Putney 
Heath, in 1G52, occurred the famous 
duel between Lord Cliandos and Colonel 
Henry Compton ; and there, too. in May, 



1708. William Pitt, Prime Mini.ster of 
England, stood uj). pistol in hand, against 
William Tierney, a Member of Parlia- 
ment ; but no bloodshed ensued. Eleven 
years later, on this same heath, two 
cabinet ministers fought a duel, and 
George Canning was shot and danger- 
ously wounded by Lord Castlereagh. 

The scene at the water-side at Putney 
in the boating season is very animated. 
The boat-houses, simple in construction, 
are thronged by smart young gentlemen in 
white and blue flannel, — gentlemen whose 
faces liear evidence of prolonged study 
or familiarity with affairs in the city, as 
well as gentlemen who appear never to 
have undertaken anything at all beyond 
the laborious task of annising them- 
selves. The inns are odd and old to the 
American eye, but they are quiet, com- 
fortalile : and the tyrannous waiters, who 
tell you what you want, and even insist 
u[ion what you shall have, are service- 
able when (ince one has learni'd theii- 
pecidiarities. This was the starting 
place for the Thames regatta when it 
was in its prime, and now the Oxford 
and Caml)ridge crews Ijoth take up their 
ab(.ides at the famous Star and Garter, 
or at a private house, while undergoing 
what is called their '' coaching." For 
ten days before the celebrated race, and 
for ;i day or two afterwards, Putney is 
transformed into a kind of fair. Amliu- 
lating negro minstrels, so called, being 
merely cockney singers witli their faces 
blackened, indulge in sentimental ditties, 
after which they demand sixpences and 
pennies from every passer-by. The 
classic game of Aunt Sally is in full 
swing, and boating i)arties, composed of 
ambitious young gentlemen who only 
know how to catch '■ cral)s," and rosy- 
faced damsels who are afraid of the 
water, are imunnerable. Then, on the 
great day. all London proceeds to 



542 EUROPE IN fiTOUM AM) CALM. 

insttiU itself oil lionso-roofs, on liri<lgos, coniiiosiiig- the lines alumt winter while 

on towpaths. in every nook ami eonier looking on the frozen Thames and the 

whence a uliiiiiise of the race can lie country rouiul aliout. covered with snow, 

obtained, and iiidnlgcs in nnrestrained From the window out of which the old 

excitement dnring the few minntes of poet looked there is a fine view of the 

the strniiule. Colors are worn as [irondly long reach of the Thames across C'his- 

as in the days of York and T.ancaster, wick Eyot far away. In the parish 

and the return to the centre of the town chnrch, is a monument to Lord Shetlield, 

by every imaginable sort of craft on the Earl of ^lulgrave. who was the com- 

river, by every vehicle, from an aristo- mander of a s(iuadron against the Span- 

cratic drag to an humble omnibus, is not isii Armada, and was kniglited by (,)iiec'n 

so indecorous as the return from the Elizabeth for his services. In Ilam- 

Derbv. but is rliaracterize<l liy almost as mersmith, once stood the celebrated 

much noise and excitement. 15randeiiburg House, now demolished. 

It was from a point Jnst bekiw Ham- It was built by Sir Nicholas C'rispe, in 

mersmith bridge that the International the reign of Charles I., and wa.s one of 

race was started, and that the Harvard the most splendid of English residences 

crew set off with such a treincndonsly even in that time of general splendor, 

rapid stroke that those unfamiliar with Fairfax made this house his head-quar- 

Thames tactics at once accorded them ters in 1(;47, and many years after the 

the victory. Unt the old lioatmeii and house was given to Margaret Ilnglies, a 

the experienced /ndiifiirs of the race pretty actress, of whom Pepys tells us 

shook their heads, and said that that indiscreetly that "she was a mighty 

stroke would iKit will. It was not far in-etty woman, but not modest." It was 

from winning, desjiite its bad form; Imt in IJrandenbiirg House thatl^neeii Caro- 

the knowledLiC of the course and the line, the wife of George IV.. rested diir- 

pecnliar slow and steady stroke of the ing her trial in the House of LokIs ; and 

Oxfords was destined to win. England there, too, she died, in 1821. It was 

put all its national jiriile into one great shortly after her death that the house 

shout on that bright afternoon when the was pulled down. 

Oxfords came in ahead at Mortlake, It is not far from Putney to Wiiulile- 
aud there could liave been no doulit, if don, where the great annual contests of 
any had existed liefore, after that shout tlie i itlemen of Great Britain are held, 
was heard, that, in matters of rivalry. The encam|iment of these marksmen 
England considers Americans as for- lasts for several days during the summer 
ei^ruers quite as much as if there were season, and is visited daily by thousands 
a total difference of language and of of jieople from the centre of London, 
manners, as in the case of the French or A friendly rivalry is kept up between 
the Germans. the rille teams of the north and south, 
Hammersmith is celebrated for the the British, the Scotch, and the Irish 
site of the old Dove coffee-house, which competing witheach other in skill, and the 
was renowned in the last century, and whole occasion reminds an American of 
which is now a little inn called the an old-fashioned training-day. Some- 
Doves. A room overlooking the river times, when the season is rainy, the 
is still pointed out as the place where mushroom booths and buildings of the 
Thomson wrote part of his " Seasons," encampment are but poor shelters, and 



EUROrE IX STORM AXn CALM. 



543 



the i-iHemoii pnss a iiiisoralile week. 
Now aud then royalty leuds its prestige 
to the matches, which are controlled 
with the greatest rigor, and the reports 
of which attract great attention in all 
parts of the kingdom. 

Among other interesting points along 
the University race-course 



resque with swans' nests, was the point 
at which the International boat-race 
between Harvard and Oxford was i)rac- 
tically decided. It was tliere that the 
struggle was the sternest, and that the 
Oxford tactics dcfinitel}' asserted them- 
selves. At Ciiiswick lived ro[)e before 
his retirement to Twickenham, and in 
the British Museum there are many let- 
ters addressed to " Mr. Pope, in his 
house in New Buildings, Chiswiek." 
There also lived Rousseau when he 
was visiting England. The author of 
the " Nouvelle Heloise " boarded at 
a small green-grocer's shop in the 
town, and a writer of the time tells 
us that lie used to sit in the shop 
and listen to the talk of the custom- 
eis, thus kiininti the Kno- 




BOAT-R.\CE ON THE THAMES. 



on the Thames, Chiswiek is of first-rate. 
Here :s the famous villa of the Duke of 
Devonshire ; and here Hogarth's house is 
still shown, and his tomb is hard by his 
old residence. Chiswiek Hall was once 
the residence of the masters of West- 
minster, and is better known in these 
days as the Chiswiek Press, from which 
such noble specimens of English typog- 
raphy have been sent forth. The Chis- 
wiek Ait or Eyot, an osier bed, pictu- 



lish language. Charles Holland, the 
celebrated comedian, was also l)orii at 
Chiswiek, and was buried from the 
church there. lie was the son of a 
baker, and after the funeral Foote said, 
"We have just shoved the little baker 
into his oven." 

The end of the race-course, Mortlake, 
is but a short distance to the cast of 
Richmond, and was an old residence of 
the Archbishoi)s of Canterbury. There, 



544 



EC ROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



Ansflin celehratoil the famous Whitsun- 
tide iif 1(>'.>9. and there, one of the areh- 
hislic>iis (lie<l (if grief, after his exconi- 
nuinication liy Pope John XXI. Tliere. 
too, jiietorial tapestry was first woven in 
Eniiland, Sir Francis Crane having es- 
talilisiied worlvs there in rivalry with tlie 
royal tapestry works in France. Many 
portraits of Crane and ^'an Dyck were 
wrought at Mortlake in taiiestry, and 
Charles I. was munificent in his patron- 
age of this estahlisiniient. Tlie Mort- 
lake copies in tapestry of the Kapliai-l 
cartoons are still to be met with in Eng- 
land. Under the floor of the clmrch in 
Jlortiake lies Dr. Dee, the most renowned 
of Englisii astrologers; and there, too, 
is buried Partridge, the almaaac-inaker, 
whose liurial .Steele described in the 
'■Tatler;" and in the same churi'h lies 
Phillips, the fellow-aetor of Shakespeare, 
will.) left, as one of his lieijuests, a thirty- 
shilling piece in gold to the immortal 
[loet. 

Shortly after the International boat- 
race, in 1.S69, the defeated Harvard crew- 
was entertained by one of the aristocratic 
Loudon rowing-clubs at a grand dinner 
at the Crystal Palace, at Sydenham. 
Tills Crystal Palace, wiiii.-li was built out 
of materials taken from the edifice of the 
noted 'Vorld's Fair of IS.^l. crowns the 
summit of pretty Syileiiliaiii hill, not far 
frtiiu London, and contains within its 
roomy corridors a series of Egyiitian, 
Greek, S|iaiiish, Assyrian, Byzantine, and 
inedia'val courts illustrative of archi- 
tecture, as well as numerous museums, 
theatres, acpiariums, aviaries, and other 
curiosities calculate 1 to strike the imlilic 
fancy. In one of its stately dining-rooms, 
overlooking the lieautiful gardens, the 
dinner of the conquerors was given to the 
con(|iii'red, and a goodly company of Eng- 
lisii celebrities gatiiered to soften tlie 
defeatof tlie stranoers. It iias often been 



said of Charles Dickens tiiat he was tlie 
prince of after-dinner speakers ; liut 
never did he distinguish himself witii 
more cliarin than on this occasion, when 
he was sorely puzzled what to say. 
Dickens was then beginning to show- 
signs of the extreme fatigue which lie 
had undergone in his later j'ears, hut he 
knew how to summon, despite pliysical 
weariness, the vi\acity which, added to 
ills humor and felicity of diction, made 
him irresistible. 

When he arose to begin the speech of 
the evt'uing. at the close of this bamiuet, 
he stood as if completely lost and abaslied 
for some two minutes, during which 
peojile began to uhisper and to gossip, 
wondering what might be tlie cause of 
tills strange hesitation. P>ut. presently 
commencing in a low voice, he recited a 
simiile anecdote concerning the role of 
IIar\ai'd in the great civil war in .Vmerica. 
He tohl the story of the Harvard Memo- 
rial, and before he had spoken a dozen 
sentences, he had not only awakciic(l tlic 
greatest symiiathy but the most profound 
interest with and in the guests of the 
evening. From the pathos of the sacri- 
fices of the children of the great L'uiver- 
sity during the war, to sparkling and half- 
satirical comments on tlie uselessness of 
sending the nervous American into tlu' 
moist English climate to grapple with tlie 
siiiewv sous of Alliion, was a leaii wliicli 
Dickens made with dexterity and safety : 
and when he sat down lie had not 
onlv apologized for tlie defeat of the 
Americans as well as any one of them- 
selves could have done it, lait he had 
liiveii, in comiilete and admirable fasliion, a 
little glimpse of the university life beyond 
the sea. — a glimpse which otherwise the 
English public would not have obtained. 
The homage and deference [laid to Dick- 
ens, as a master iu liis art. and one of 
the foremost writers of his time, was 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



545 



well shown on this evening, when Eng- 
lishmen of far wider accomplishments 
tlian his cheerfully took second place, 
bowing before the celebrit\' which had 
been won by the exercise for a quarter 
of a century of one of the most dazzling 
and remarkable talents of the epoch. Only 
a year later, Dickens lay iu Westminster 
Abbey, and of nil the sorrowful messages 
sent over sea, there were none more 
sincere than those which came from the 
children of old Harvard. 

Beyond this sinuous course devoted to 
the water-sjiorts, the Thames bends 
away into pretty flats, fringed with wil- 
lows and with green lawns, where, in 
summer time, the artist moors his house- 
boat, or the privileged sportsman stalks 
abroad with his gun. Far away is the 
great botanical establishment at Kew 
Gardens, fringed i-ound about with 
handsome towns and villas, wliich look 
seductive from a distance, but are, when 
closely examined, proved to be built in 
flimsiest fasliion. All London, indeed, 
is hemmed with loosely and carelessly 
built houses, which rent for modest 
sums, but which are soon out of repair. 
Building is a gigantic speculation, dear 
to the heart of the London capitalist, 
but it has brought sorrow to thousands 
of moneyt'd men, wiio li:ive desired too 
large returns for their reckless expendi- 
ture. 

Kew has a rather ugly-looking church, 
in which the organ, long used by Handel, 
still makes music. In the churcli-yard 
lies the great Gainsborough, landscape 
and portrait painter, and there formerly 
stood Suffolk House, the residence of 
one of the great Dukes of SulTolk. An 
old chronicle tells us that, in 1595, 
Queen Elizabeth dined at Kew with Sir 
John Puckering, Lord Keeper of the 



Great Seal. " Her entertainment for 
that meal was great, and exceedingly 
costly. At her first lighting, she had a 
fine fanne, with a handle gamisht with 
diamonds. When she was in the middle 
way lietween the garden gate and the 
house, there came running towards her 
one with a nosegay in his hand, and deliv- 
ered yt unto her with a short, well- 
liened speech. Yt had in yt a very rich 
Jewell, with many pendants of unfirl'd 
diamonds, valewed at £400 at least. 
After dinner, in the privey chamber, he 
gave her a fair pair of virginals. In lier 
bedchamber, he presented her with a 
gown and juppin, which things were 
pleasing to her Hignes; and, to grace 
his lordship the more, she of herself 
toolv from him a salt, a spoone, Mud a 
forcke of faire agatte." 

Kew has been the residence of innu- 
merable celebrities. There Sn- William 
C'haml)ers long had charge of the forma- 
tion of the botanical garden ; and in 
1765 lie published an account of the 
various temiiles and ornamental build- 
ings wliich lie liiiil erected in them. 
George III. for a long time lived at Kew 
House, and appeals to have been very 
nuu'h the slave of his servants, for it is 
recorded of him that, after the death of 
his head-gardeuer, he made a personal 
visit to the under-gardener, and in a 
tone of much gratification said, " Brown 
is dead : now you and I can do what we 
please here." After George III. "s death, 
until the accession of the present t^ueen, 
Kew was apparently neglected. In 1840, 
the gardens were adopted as a national 
establishment, and, under the able man- 
agement of the present directors, the 
botanical establishment has become the 
richest, if not the most beautiful, in all 
Europe. 



f)ii', 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM 



CHAPTER SIXTY. 



riirlimi>iMl :iiiil it-i liomanc-e. — riichmoiul Hill. — Tlio " Star and (Jarter." — The Riclimond Theatre. — Tlie 
Thames \' alley. — Twiekeuhaiu. — The Orleans Exiles, aiul Their En^^lish llntne. — .Strawherry 
Hill. — Hampton ( 'otirt. — Wolsey ami <_'romwcll. — The Royal Resideuee. — Windsor ami Its Orij;:in. 



IT is a liltl'.' mofe than eio'ht miles 
from IIy<le Parle corner to IJicli- 
mond ; lint the transition is as great as 
if the distance were live lunidied miles. 
The tispi'Ct of siloom and severity which 
reigns in the metropolis the greater [)nrt 
of the year is entirely left lieliind. .niid 
one has before him. on Kiclnnond llill, 
a vast and noble ]irospeet of parks and 
winding rivers, of stately trees, pretty 
bowers, and comfortable villas. 

There is nothing exactly like the view 
from Richmond Hill to lie fonml in tmv 
other ptu't of Europe. The mellowness 
of the l.-nidscapc. with its profusion of 
betuitiful elms, is very striking ; the 
atmosiiheric effects are soft, and lend a 
kind of enchantment to the greiit vista 
of the park. Overlooking the most 
beautifnl section of this pleasure ground 
is the famous " Star and Garter" Hotel, 
renowned in the annals of gastronomy, 
and the scenes of miiny ftimons rt'unions 
of statesmen, and of the litertirv and 
artistic guilds. Mr. Barnott Smith, in 
his " Life of Gladstone," tells us of :i 
speech made by the Pi-eniier when he 
was a much younger man, at, the " Star 
and Gtuter," and of the phenomentil 
inijiression which the eloquence of the 
statesman, tifti'rwards to be so cele- 
brated, then produced. It was on the 
occasion of the visit of the Emperor of 
Russia to England, and at his dinner 
INIr. (iladstone proposed the toast of the 
" Prosperity of the Church of .St. James 
in Jerusalem, and of her first bishop." 



" Never," says the author, '• was heard 
a more exquisite speech. It flowed like 
a gentle and translucent stream : ;ind, as 
in the second jiortion, he addressed 
Alexander directly, representing the 
greatness and tho difficulty of the charge 
eiinlidi'd to him, the latter ;it first 
covered his face from emotion ; then 
arose and relurned thanks with dignity 
as well as with feeling. Stiliseqnently 
we drove back to town in the clearest 
starlight, Gladstone continuing with 
untdiated animation to poiu' forth har- 
monious thoughts in melodious tone." 

Richmond is said to have got its 
liresent ntimc by command of Henry 
\TI.. who, before the liattle of Bosworth, 
was Earl of Richmond in Yorkshire; 
but its old name shows th;it it was held 
in high esteem before the tenth centuiy, 
for tho splendor of its views and the 
charm of its great forests. It was 
cttlled Syenes, which is supposed to be a 
corrtiption of the German .'^cJiiin. 'I'here 
Edwtii'd I. had a countiy Ikjusc : Edward 
III. died in the palace there : Richard II. 
lived in Richmond in the early years of 
his reign : there his first wife Ann of 
Bohemia died, whereupon he cursed tlie 
place, and had the palace torn down. 
Then Henry V. had it rebuilt, and 
founded several " Houses of Religion." 
Early in 1492, Henry VII. held a grand 
tournament at Richmond, " upon the 
grei'ii without the gttte of the said 
manor." There Philip I., King of Cas- 
tile, stayed for three months while the 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



547 



uouotiations for his marriiigc with the 
Lady Margaret were in pvogioss ; and 
there tiie Spanish mouarch was enter- 
tained with great magniflcence, and manj' 
notable feats of arms took place at the 
tournaments hehl in his honor. 

Henry VIII. held a series of splendid 
entertainments at Richmond, and there 
Cardinal Wolsey came now and then to 
reside, by permission of the King, after 
he had presented his newly-erected palace 
of II:inipt^)n C'oiu't to Henry. All 
through the sncceetling centuries Rich- 
mond appears to have been a favorite 
resort for royalty. James I., in IGK), 
gave Richmond to his son, Prince Henry. 
In 1647 the Parliament ordered the 
palace to be made ready for the rece|)- 
ti(jn of the King, but Charles refused to 
go there, contenting himself with an 
occasional hunting excursion in the then 
new park. At the time of the restora- 
tion the |)alace was dismantled, and the 
accounts of the time say that ''several 
lioat-loails of ri;-h and cuiious elligies, 
formerly l)elongiug to Charles I., but 
since alienated," were taken from Rich- 
mond to Whitehall in IGGd. Thus, more 
than a century before the great French 
RevoLilion, the English diil exactly for 
Richmond what the French were destined 
to do for ]\Iarly, I he old palace in which 
Louis XIV. had spent his declining years. 

Richmond Palace is said to have 
covered an area of more than ten acres. 
In the middle of the eighteenth century 
" Richmond Green" was one of the most 
fashionable of subnrlian resorts, and 
there the fine g<'ntlemeu of the period 
came to jilay wliist at the clubs on Satiu'- 
days and Sundays. " You will naturally 
ask," says one of the chroniclers of that 
time, " whv' they cannot play at whist 
in London on these two days as well as 
on the other live. Indeed, I cannot tell 
you, e.xcept that it is so establislied a 



fashion to go out of town at the end of 
the week that i)eople do go, though it be 
only into another town." 

Riclnnond Lodge was a favorite abode 
of Caroline, wife of George II., and 
there she had costlier buildings than had 
been previousl}' seen in England, erected 
on a, gigantic scale. There she created 
a " hermitage," a " Merlin's cave," a 
"grotto," a dairy, and a menagerie, 
the interior of the "hermit.age" was 
ornamented with busts of Newton and 
Lo(/ke ; and the presiding genius of 
the locality was Robert Boyle, Jii^ head 
encircled with a halo of gilded rays. 
George III., who Jiad little sympathy 
with the improvements made by Queen 
Caroline, had them .all swept away, and, 
in a fit of spite, destroyed the terrace 
which she had built along the river, — a 
terrace whiili was said to be, at that 
time, the fliiest in Europe. 

l>eyond the entrance of the gates of 
the Richmond Park, on Richmond Hill, 
is the prospect of which old Thomson 
wrote in his somewhat conventional verso 
a century and a half ago. Thomson and 
Turner have both celebrated the beauti- 
ful landscape, and, if they could come 
back to earth now, would be shocked to 
see that the wavy ocean of tree-toi)s has 
been intruded upon here and there by 
prosaic lines of house-fronts. The view 
up the great valley of the Thames from 
Richmond Hill is thus described by Mr. 
Thorne in his charming work on the en- 
virons of London: "A thickly-wooded 
tract, relieved by open meadows and 
gentle undulations, where the eye rests 
always on the tranquil surface of tiie 
river, with its eyots, skiffs, and swal- 
lows ; and the beach-clad hills of Buck- 
inghamshire, the Surrey heaths and 
downs, and the Berkshire heights, over 
which dimly visiljle through a veil of 
purple haze — 



548 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



•' ' Majestic Windsor lifts liis princely briiw.' 

" ' Haniiitoii House,' with the elni- 
grovcs aiiil avenues of elm-walks on 
one side of the river, and on tlie otlier 
the dark massive f(jrms of Hampton 
Court, and the long chestnnt-avennes of 
Bushe3' Park, are as prominent and effee- 
tive features in tlie landsea[)e as when 
Thomson wrote. But the ' ra|)tured 
eye exulting ' looks from the terrace in 
vain for ' huge Angusta' or • tlie sister 
hills which skirt her plain,' or even 
' lofty Harrow.' though the lights may 
he made out from the garden terrace 
of the Star and Garter, and in clear 
weather from some part or other of the 
park. The view is one of a wide ex- 
panse of ((uiet, cidlivate<l scenery. Its 
charm is not dependent on the hour or 
the season. It may receive an addeil 
grace or assunv a n(jl)ler lii-auty at cer- 
tain seasons, or in an^y excoi)tional at- 
iiiospherio phenomena ; but it is alike 
exquisite, seen, as we have seen it, in 
the earliest dawn or liroad daylight, 
when bathed in the crimson glory of a 
sinking sun, or lit by a full or waning 
moon ; in the first freshness of the 
s|)ring, the full lealiness of summer, the 
sobe.' gold of autumn, or the somlu'e 
depth of advancing winter." 

At the Star and Garter Hotel Lou- 
is Philippe stayed for several mouths 
after his flight from Paris; there Naiio- 
leon III., when he was a struggling 
|)iince, now and then had apartments, 
when he liad a windfall of money. The 
famous '• Ft>ur-in-IIand Club" used to 
drive down and <liue there every Sunday, 
and near by Sir Joshua Reynolds gave his 
l)leasant little dinner parties in the sun- 
shine, gathering about him the most 
eminent of his admirers. One of the 
few landscapes which Reynolds |)ainted 
was a view from the drawing-room win- 



dow of his Richmond villa. Mrs. Fitz- 
lierbert lived on Richmond Hill wh<n 
she won the atlections of the Prince of 
Wales, who afterwards became George 
I\'. At the noted " (.^ueensberr}' House" 
there was a brilliant coterie for many 
years, until the Duke of (^ueensberry 
grew tiled of his country-seat, where ho 
he had entertained Pitt, Chatham, the 
Duchess of Gordon, and other celebri- 
ties of the time ; and one d.ay he left it 
forever, saying that there was nothing 
to make so much of in the 'I'hanies, and 
that he " was quite wearj' of it, and 
its flow, flow, flow, always the same." 

The neighborhood is filled with splen- 
did mansions, each one of which has 
its history and legend, too long to re- 
cite here. 

The RichuKjud Theatre has been fa- 
mous for uioie than two centuries and a 
half. The present edifice was l)uilt by 
(iarrick, and there (rarrick, Liston, Mrs. 
Siddons, Mrs. Jordan, and Charles 
Matthews often appeared. Charles Mat- 
thews the elder made his " first appear- 
ance on any stage " at Richmond ; and 
there Edmund Kean died, in a small 
room in a house attached to the theatre. 
Kean had, in his latest years, played 
many a time to " a lieggarly account of 
empty benches." 

It is a pleasant walk through these in- 
tensely interesting regions, from Rich- 
mond to Twickenham, a village |)rettily 
placed on the Thames, between the high 
ground of Strawberry Hill and a range 
of verdant meadows backed liy Rich- 
mond Hill and Park, on the other side of 
the river. Horace Walpole was tlie 
genius of this locality, and has done 
more than any one else to make Twick- 
enham celebrated. It is but a small 
hamlet, once owned liy the monks of 
Canterbury, but, when the monasteries 
were suppressed, it was annexed to 



EUROPE fX STORM AND CALM. 



549 



Hampton Court, and Charles I. gave it 
to his Queen. Then it was seized by the 
Parliament, and, after many chanoes of 
owMorship. finally reverted to the crown. 
Twickenham is chiefly interesting as a 
favorite resort for exiles from the conti- 
nent dnring this century. There Louis 
Philippe came in ISOO. when he was 
Duke of Orleans, with his two hrothei's 
w'hoiii he had met in London fof the first 
time since their exile from Fi-ance after 
the gi'eat revolution. He took up his 
abode there, and their residence came to 
bo known as •■ Orleans House." I)es- 
tin_v l)rought Louis Philippe back to it 
.ngain when he was a second time an ex- 
ile, iialf a century after his first visit. 
The old king l)ought it in 18')2, of 
Lord Kilmorey, who went to live near 
by, while the present Due d'Aumale took 
up his residence in Orleans House, and 
there held, until after 1870, when lie !'_■- 
turned to France, a kind of literarv 
court. His spiicious picture-gallery, his 
superb collection of ancient and modern 
pictures and drawings, miniatures, enam- 
els, M8.S., and his exquisite lil)rary. 
were celebrated throughout Eur(;])e. 
Gradually all the members of the ex- 
iled family grouped themselves at 
Twickenham. The Comte de Paris lived 
in York House, the Prince de Joinville 
at Mount Lebanon, and the Due de Ne- 
mours at Bushey Hill. Twickenham was 
the head-quarters of Orleans politics, and 
so great w,as its prestige in the eyes of 
the Boui'bons that Don Carlos of Spain 
■went to live there in 1876, after his un- 
successful campaigns in the Carlist cause 
amorig the Basques in the Pyrenees. 
Pope's villa, at Twickenham, is also cele- 
brated. There the little poet resided 
until his death in 1744, and there he 
worked in his garden in the intervals of 
verse-making and the entertainment of 
his friends. 



Almost every travelled American has 
visited Strawberry Hill, where Horace 
Walpole had his famous Gothic Castle, 
from which he used to indite the biting 
epistles which became classics in Eng- 
lish ; and not far away lived Lady Mary 
Wortley Montagu, oni-e Pope's fast 
friend, but later on his bitter enemy. 
Charles Dickens lived in Twickenham 
Park in 1888. and there Thackeray, 
Douglas Jeri'old, Landseer, Stanfield, 
and Maclise. had, according to the testi- 
mony of .John Foster. '■ manv friendly 
days '■ together. 

Further ui) stream lies Hampton Court 
and the village of Hampton, from which 
is a pleasant view of the long reaches of 
the Thames, with their lines of little 
islands or eyots, and the broad meadows 
on either hand, the elms of Bushey Park, 
the towers and prettily-massed roofs of 
Kingston, and the wooded hills of Sur- 
rey. At Hampton pro|ier is " Garrick 
\'illa." which, in Garrick's time, and 
when he came frequently there, was 
known as Hamilton House. Tliere the 
noted actor built an ambitious Corin- 
thian portico, and liail hamlsome 
grounds laid out. On the hiHu he 
erected a Grecian temple, in which he 
shrined a statue of Shakespeare, for 
which it is said he stood as model, and 
so enraged the sculpto:' by his caprices 
during his sitting for the work, that the 
artist threatened to give up the commis- 
sion. There Garrick was fond of giving 
dinner and garden parties and festivals 
at night, when his grounds were lighted 
liy colored lights. Thither came the 
Sinuiish minister of the time, the Duke 
of Grafton, Lord and Lady Rochford, 
Lady Holderness, and Horace Walpole. 
Old Johnson even penetrated to ILamptou 
House, and when Garricic asked him how 
he liked it, said. '■ It is the leaving of such 
places that makes a death-bed terrible." 



5:)() 



EUROPE IX STORM AM) CALM. 



ILimiiton Court, much visik'tl liy 
coi-knevs and toiiri.sts, is a kind of gcii- 
tei'l asUiim for the widows of distin- 
guished servants of the crown. lufaet, 
botli IIani|itiin Coiu't and Kew I'ahiee are 
occupied by aristocratic pensioners, wlio 
have rooms t>r suites of rooms assigned 
tlieni at th<' liands of Her Alajosty. Old 
Cardinal Wolst'V, when he bought 
Hampton Court, was at the heinlit of 
liis [lower; and it is said that, expect- 
ing still greater lionors, he meant to 
make there one of tlie finest jialaces in 
pyUrope. Tiie structures which he raised 
at IIam]iton were the cause of the envy 
which tinally cost him his position, and 
led liim to regret liis high ambition. 
After a noble entertainment which Wol- 
sey gave at Hampton to the French am- 
bassador in 1527, King Henry hinisidf 
felt envious, and asked Wolsey why he 
had liuilt so costly a house. 

"• To show how noble a palace a subject 
nu.y offer to his sovereign," said the 
Cardinal, liiling his lips, and handing 
over the siilendid establishment to His 
]\I:ijesty, who acce|)ted it with al.iciity. 

It was at nann_)ton Court that Henry 
had the first news of tlie death of Wol- 
sey. Thitlier Princess Elizabeth was 
summoned from Woodstock, and urged 
to abjure Protestantism ; and there tlie 
great council of the Lords was sum- 
moned by Elizabeth, in l.')G8, to consider 
the accusations against INIary Queen of 
Scots, respecting the nuinler of Darnley. 
Tiiere James I. and Charles I. succes- 
sively lived, and thei'e Cliailes sought 
refuge witli liis (lueen from tiie tumult 
in London, and tliere. in 1G47, he was a 
prisonei'. 

Hampton Court has echoed to tlie foot- 
ste|)s ol" Oliver Cromwell, who was very 
fond of the palace, and came often to it ; 
and there one of liis daughters was mar- 
ried, and his favorite daughter, Ladv 



Clayiiole, died. History tells ns that the 
great Protector had an organ taken away 
from Jlagdalen College, Oxford, and set 
up in the great gallery at Hampton Court. 
Tiie lirst and second Ceorges liked the 
palace and lived there ; but, after tlieir 
time, the state apartments and grounds 
were much neglected. Few visitors came 
to see them ; but now hundreds of thou- 
sands come yearly to the palace and the 
[lark. The tapestries, of which tliere 
are many very beautiful ones, are the 
chief curiosities. The iiictures are nu- 

mcroiis and p ■. Li what is called the 

"Presence Chamber," there are the eele- 
lirated •' Hani|iton Court Beauties," a 
famous series of portraits of the ladies 
of the court of M'illiam and IMarv, 
familiar in engraving to all tlie woild. 

IJut the esiiccial jewel of the upper 
Thames region, and the one most sacred 
in the English eye, becausa it is the 
residence of the (^neen, is Windsor, of 
which Dean Swift wrote to Stella, " that 
it was in a delicinus situation, but that 
the town was scouiKhel."' Modern 
Windsor town has nothing of esiiecial 
interest in it. Its streets look prosaic 
and uninviting enough; but here and 
there is an ancient inn like the "Garter," 
which boasts in its records of the [lafron- 
age of old Pepys and of Sir John Eal- 
staff. Not many years ago the houses 
of ]\Iistress Page and of ^Master Ford 
were still pointed out ; but they ha\e 
now been swept away, and but few 
memorials of the " Merry Wives of 
AVindsor " remain. 

The "Castle" is noble and imposing. 
Chief of the royal palaces, which are 
few in number, it is also the chief by 
the multitude of interesting associations 
grou[ied aliout it. It has been for seven 
hundred years a royal residence, the 
seeiie of beautiful pageants, of courtly 
assemblages, of many crimes and cele- 



EVROT'E IN STORM AND CALM. 



f)-)! 



brated political events. Viewed from 
the park it springs witli incomparable 
grace and majesty from tlie eminence 
overlooking the broad valley of the 
Thames, and the little town seems to 
nestle confidingly at its feet. Of course 
its origin is attriliuted to " William the 
Conqueror," as it is necessary that the 
sovereign's al>ode should be intimately 
connected with the beginning of the pres- 
ent aristocracy in England. It is said 
that tlie Con()neror got the manor l>y 
exchange from the Alibot of West- 
minster, and that he then made Windsor 
a royal residence. " lint," says Thorne, 
" there is no evidence that his works 
were more than additions to already ex- 
isting buildings." 

Under William Rufus, Windsor Castle 
was both a prison and a palace, and 
there the Earl of Nortliumberland was 
long confined. Henry I. held his court 
at Windsor in 1100, and there sum- 
moned the nobles of iMigland and those 
of Normandy. Tliere Henry H. lived 
and lavished money on the vineyards 
which then flourished in the neighbor- 
hood. From Windsor Castle King John 
set out to meet the barons who made 



him sign tlie Great Cluu ter ; and later on 
the barons besieged the Castle, but it 
held firm against them. Under Henry 
III. Windsor was the finest royal dwell- 
ing in Europe. There Edward I. and 
Edward II. held court and councils, gave 
audiences, had jousts and tournaments ; 
there Edward III., Edward of Windsor, 
as he \vas called by the older historians, 
lived long and happily ; and he it was 
who built the " Hound Tower," the most 
striking feature of the castle. Here he 
held his famous "Round T.able," wliich 
he had conceived the fancy of rees- 
tablishing in imitation of Arthur and his 
loyal knights; and here, in 1344, was 
inaugurated the newly founded "Order 
of theGart*>r." On this occa.sion knights 
from every jjart of Europe flocked up to 
AVindsor, and the huntings and liawk- 
ings, the banquets and dances, and the 
tournaments lasted for many weeks. In 
the liright pages of old Froissart, the 
sprightlj' chronicler, there are many de- 
scriptions of the festivals at Windsor on 
St. George's Day, wlien the knights, 
with the king at their head, [n-oceeded to 
the chapel where tin; rites of installa- 
tion were performed. 



552 



EUROPE IN STURM AND CALM. 



CHAPTKR SIXTY-ONE. 



En^lisli Royalty. — Tlie Cu\n%. — Mcrai.ii:i,ls ,.f Wimlsor. — St. Gcovffc's Chtipcl. — Tlio Park at Windsor. 
— The lloval ral:it'i.'s. — Drawiu^-Uooins at Iliirkinghaiii Palace. — ^leiuorialy of lliu-kiiii^liam 
Palafc. — 



ENGLAND is vurvfar fitmi li:iviiin- a 
court in tlie sense tliat tlie word is 
understood in Gennanv or even in Austria. 
]\[. l'liili|i]i(' ]):if_vl. ill Ills eli'ver l»>cik 
oil [Jiiljlic life in England, tells us that 
no court proper is to he found in that 
country, and th ,t if there he one at all 
it only exists on paper. " The tihna- 
na.cli," he says, " gives iis a iionipnus 
list of olHcials, a lord chainherhiin, :i 
vice-chamherlain, a lord steward, a mas- 
ter of the horse and a master of the 
iiounds, a mistress of the robes, a dean 
of the Chapel Royal, pliysieians and 
surgeons in ordinary, (-(jntrollers, treas- 
urers, equerries, geiith'ineii in waiting, 
the grooms of the eli;iniber, ;i poet 
laureate, pages, women of the bed 
chamber, maids of honor, etc. Every- 
one of these draws a salary and partakes 
generally of the fortunes of the cabinet ; 
but the duties are practically sinecures, 
and, e.xcept on rare occasions, neither 
regular servit'e nor regular attendance is 
demanded. They recall in nothing the 
trailitions of Louis XIV."' Doubtless 
this is in some measure true ; yet there 
is none the less the .strictest of coui t 
etiquettes kept up at Windsor, and it is 
accounted the iiigliest honor whieli a 
distinguished civilian can receive to be 
asked to the Castle and presented to 
the reigning sovereign, and possibly be 
asked to stay tw dinner. As for the 
military peojile of distinction, they all 
look forward to the time when they shall 
get from the august resident therein 



sciine pletising message. The humblest 
railway" or steamship servant wounded in 
an accident, the soldi. m- stretched out on 
some far off plain, or the genertd who 
litis just etiiried tlii'ough some great 
eiiteriirise in the interest of that trade 
which :ilw:iys follows just liehind the 
army — all look to Windsor for their 
reward. In France, the different min- 
isters intervene between the chief of 
.State and the recipient of ftivor or 
iionors, lint in England the messages 
often come so direct that they seem to 
bring the citizen into chjsest relation 
with that majesty for which he has such 
[irofound respect. Eurtheriiinre, al- 
though a court mtiy not lie kept up in 
the ponqwus and ornate f;isiii(jn of 
Berlin at all times at Windsor, there is 
a court circle which cannot 1)e broken 
into, one which is ahvays maintained 
above and outside the sphere of ordi- 
nary conventional society, and which 
has its expression in the levees or draw- 
ing-rooms in the parlors of Buckingliani 
Palace or St. James. 

Queen ^'ictoria has associated her 
name with \Mndsor almost as closely as 
that of anv of her predecessors. Eliza- 
lieth w;is delighted "itii Windsor Castle, 
and had a fine gallery :ind lianijueting 
house built there as well as many gar- 
dens laid out, all of which have long ago 
been swept from existence. She it was 
who built the north terrace, and in her 
new gallery in the latest years of the six- 
teenth century, Master William Shake- 



EURorF. Tjv sroajf and calm. 



553 



speare's sprightly comedy of "Tlie Merry raciits, its images, and its contly fittings, 

Wives of Windsor " was played liy Her and the soldiers of the Parliament hunted 

Majesty's command, the poet himself the deer in the royal park and forest. 

directing the rehearsals and the first To Windsor the l)ody of (Hiarles I. was 

performance. A few years later Ren brought, shortly after his execution, and 




1^1 KKN VICTORI.^. 
From photo^mplia 'jf .A. Bastsano, OM Bond etroet, I<ondi>n. 



Jonson's " ISIusic of the Oip.sies" was 
presented at Windsor, having previously 
been played liefore King James on two 
occasions. When the Parliamentary 
Generals came in they strip|>ed St. 
George's Chapel of its plate, its vest- 



was carried, on the 9th of Februarj, 
1649, from the great hall, where Charles 
had so often held stately levees, to St. 
George's Chapel, where it was buried 
without bell or book. 

History tells us that Charles II. took 



554 



EUROri-: IX STORM AXn CALM. 



llio sum of £70,000 sterling, voted 
aftui- tlie Restoration, for the i-einovul 
of the body of Charles I. to a fittiiijj; 
sepulchre ; but that nolile monarch 
ne\er rendered any account of tlio 
money. I'ndei- ( leorge III. there was a 
veritable court at Windsor, and it used 
to assemlile on iSnnday afternoons on tiie 
terrace to listen to the ninsic of the niili- 
taiy liands, the King with the (^)ueen, the 
children, and the royal suite promenad- 
ing up and down a lane composed of his 
loy.'d subjects, who I)owed low as he 
passed them. 

Under the reign of the present (.^)ueen 
great improvements have been maile at 
Windsor. The Prince Consort was very 
fond of the old building, and suggested 
most of the changes, among xvliich are 
the restoration of the lower ward, that of 
St. George's chapel, the Wolsey chapel, 
which is a kind of memorial of the I'rince 
Consort himself, and man\' of the changes 
in the upper ward, the entrance hall, and 
the state staircase. Prince Albert's im- 
provements were very skilful, and have 
added innneiisely to the beauty of the line 
range of buildings, which stretches fifteen 
hundred feet from east to west along the 
high talile-land, around which, on its 
western end, the Thames makes a great 
sweei). 

St. George's chapel is often enough 
described in our days, as it is the scene 
of christenings, marriages, and funerals 
in the very munerous branches of the 
royal family. It is a noble burial-place 
of kings, and in its vaults lie Henry V HI., 
Jane Seymour, Charles J., Gef>rge HI , 
George IV., William I\'., Queens Char- 
lotte and Adelaide, and many lesser dig- 
nitaries. On the Albert Memorial chapel, 
or the Tomb House, as it was formerly 
called, the (^>ueen has expended large 
_ sums in restoration or decoration, in 
memory of her husband ; and in the 



centre of the chapel stands the sarcoph- 
agus of the Prince, bearing a recum- 
bent statue, habited in a suit of armor. 
The liody of the good Pi'ince does not 
repose here, but in the Royal Mausoleum, 
at Froginore. 

That i)ortion of Windsor in which the 
(^ueen resides is not very olten 0|)en to 
the iiublic, for the Queen spends the 
greater portion of her time at Windsor, 
visiting her castle in the Northern High- 
lands, and sinn)le, but pretty Osborne 
House, on the shores ot the Isle of 
Wight, oidy for comiiaratively l.irief 
[leriods. The private life of the Queen 
is described as simple in marked degree, 
made up of the same quiet and refined 
pleasures which fdl the life of any lady 
of distinction, interspersed, however, 
by seasons <-)f hard work ; for the Queen 
is not a queen in vain, and has papers 
manifold to sign, and in troublous times 
many com|)laints to hear and questions 
to ask. She has a siiecial wire from the 
Houses of Parliament to Windsor, and 
when she is at the Castle knows all that 
is gi>ing on a very short time after it 
occurs. At an}' hour of the night or 
day she maj' read from the slip of paper 
which i-olls out from the machine the 
story of the debates, the accidents, and 
incidents which have occurred in the 
kingihim. All liills, ordei's in council, 
etc., are drawn up in her name, according 
to the pleasant formula which assumes 
that she governs as well as reigns. She 
has to attend to the post every day or 
two, with as much care as if she were 
the head of a connnercial estal)lish- 
ment. Foreign desiiatches, proclama- 
tions, ratifications, decrees, letters-patent, 
orders for execution, — all these great 
and small affairs require the " Victoria 
R." before they are legal. " In sum- 
mer," ]\I. Daryl tells us, "she signs 
these pa|)crs, seated in a jiretty tent 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



pitched on the lawn at Balmoral." We 
are told that she is very fond of letter- 
flriting, and keeps up an enormous cor- 
respondence with her German relatives. 

The Audience chamber at Windsor is 
decorated with Verrio's conventional 
ceilings, but the walls are hung with the 
richest tapestry from the Gobelins, and 
illustrate the life of Esther. Here, too, 
are many portraits of members of tlie 
English royal family, and a noble picture 
of Mary Queen of Scots. In the Van- 
dyck room are no less than twenty-two 
poitraits by the celebrated painter ; and 
iu the Queen's state drawing-room are 
pictures of the different Georges. The 
fondness of the English for recording 
the glory of their Continental campaigns 
is illustrated in tiie Waterloo chamber, 
which is a fine hall used for state ban- 
quets. Around this hall are ranged the 
pictures of the sovereigns, the generals, 
and the politicians who took part in the 
war that ended at Waterloo. 

The Presence chamber, or Couit ball- 
room, hung with beautiful tapestries 
and ornamented with granite vases ; 
St. George's hall, more tlian two hun- 
dred feet long, with its trophies of arms 
and armor, its sliields and banners, em- 
blazoned with the arms of all the knights 
from the foundation of the celebrated 
order ; the Guard chamber, tilled with 
military and naval trophies ; and the 
Queen's Presence chamber, — are the 
only rooms ordinarily shown to tiie 
public. But beyond them lie the real 
treasures : the Queen's and King's clos- 
ets ; beautiful cabinets filled with pictures 
liy Ilolliein, Claude Lorraine, Titian, 
Rembrandt, Tintoretto, Rubens ; and 
the Rul)ens room, the Council cham- 
ber, the Throne room, which contains 
some superb portraits by Gainsliorough ; 
the great Corridor, five hundred and 
twenty feet long, lined with busts of 



noted personages ; tlie Plate room, wliich 
contains tlie nautilus cu|) of Benvenuto 
Cellini ; the Library, the Raphael cabi- 
net, — these are not exceeded in magniti- 
cence and interest even by the superb 
ducal residences in England. Maiiv of 
the dukes have palaces which comiiare 
very favorably, however, with the other 
roj'al abodes. 

Miles away to the south of the town 
stretches Windsor's great park, full of 
the noblest and wildest forest scenery, 
breezy slopes, over which herds of deer 
wander, great avenues with the boughs 
of trees interlocked above, cool glades 
through which little brooklets glide, and 
throughout the whole an atniosi)here of 
refined age and calm. Here and there 
the ancient elms are decaying and have 
fallen ; but the forest keepei's take ten- 
derest care of them. IMany of the trees 
are inscribed with brass plates and bear 
es[)ecial names, like " tlie oak of AV'il- 
liam the Conqueror," and " Queen \'ic- 
toria's Tree." 

Of this park, and of Windsor as seen 
from it, M. Daryl, in his admirable 
book, says: "With its fohated pas- 
sages, its winding corridors, its grand 
round tower, its little window-panes 
sunk into lead, its iriegular roofs and 
iiinuinerable steps, this immense palace is 
assuredly not :i model of simplicity or of 
architectural i-egularity. But what a 
grand appearance it has upon the ter- 
race heights overlooking the Thames, 
when the setting sun is lighting up its 
windows, which rise high above the level 
of the forest trees! How much this 
mass of feudal walls and modern build- 
ings resembles the British constitution, 
and how that fiintastical decoration 
seems the natural surroundings of that 
slee|)ing beauty, the English monarchy. 
More than Westminstei- Abbey or St. 
Paul's — more than anvedifice — Windsor 



556 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



has a caliii majesty, wliich is quite in tiie 
fitness of things, and surpasses your ex- 
pectations. Ail is grand, sumptuous, 
and striliino-. The trees in tiie Long 
wallv, four or five centuries old, and 
dying of old age, as they border an 
avenue two leagues in length ; the golil 
plate, worth forty million francs: tlie 
pictures, which any nuiseum in the 
world would lie prciud to possess; the 
]iark, in wliich tiie deer are fed ; the 
guards in their grand uniforms, who 
keep watch at the posterns; and. 
above all, the machicolations, and 
tlic ramparts, two hundred feet alioxc 
us, profile against the sky dominating 
the horizon of a. dozen counties. If we 
met a live unicorn at the end of an 
alley we would hardly feel surprised. 
At Windsor the atmosiihere almost 
sci'iiis Shakespi'ariun, as at \'i'rsaillcs 
one seems to lie walking in a tragedy of 
Jean Racine. '" 

Our sprightly French friend alludes 
with certain fantastic cynicism to what 
he is ple.-ised to term the Sleeping 
Heaut\ ; but the monarchy in troublous 
times awakens from its feudal dream, 
;ind shows that it knows how to take 
part in the vicissitudes and troubles 
which come to the nation. As tiiese 
pages are written the English world is 
disturbed by a deadly struggle with 
Arab fanaticism, by the resistance of a 
so-called Prophet, resistance lieiglitened 
and strengtheneil by the conviction of 
the Arabs that their cause is just; and 
no sooner has the st'aiii been felt in 
England than the head of the aristocracy 
rises to the level of an astonisliing 
activity. The Queen, who has such 
marked dislike for ]Miblic ceremonials, 
and who has so studiously refrained 
from participating in them since the loss 
of the Prince Consort, — whose life- 
long mourner she is determined to be, — • 



now appears as the giver of ft'tpft as well 
as of military decorations. The musty 
halls of liuckingham Palace are aired 
and thrown open ; levees and drawing- 
looms are announced ; the court, of 
wliich M. Daryl denies the existence, 
comes out of its enchanted nap, and 
proceeds to dazzle the eyes of the 
groundlings; the heir-apparent is sent 
to the disart'ected sister island, there to 
disiiense hosjiitality and money, and to 
bear with good grace the lack of recip- 
rocal c-ourtesv. 

liesiiles her residence of Windsor the 
(^»iieen has three royal mt tropolitan 
palaces : P>nckinghiim Palace, properly 
tiie residence of the sovereign and the 
court; St. .Tames's, used exclusively 
for state receptions and levees ; and 
Kensington Palace, where (Jueen Vic- 
toria was born, and where she held her 
tirst Council. Buckingham Palace is far 
more impressive in exterior than in in- 
terior. It is pretty enonnii in the midst 
of its svminetrieal shruljbery an:l in the 
neighborhood of the green slopes of St. 
.lames's iKirk in summer, wlii'ii the sea- 
son is at its height, and when the long 
|)rocession of high-swung liarouches 
bears to it the hundreils of ladies who 
are presented at court. These poor 
ladies undergo a ferocious inspection 
from the populace, which flocks up to the 
park to see the swells as they wait in 
line their turn to descend within the 
palace grounds ; and the assembled 
people pass many a rough comment ui>on 
the bare-shouldered dowagers and the 
shrinking maidens who brave the ele- 
ments and the eyes of the vulgar on their 
wav to pass before the platform on 
which the Queen stands to receive her 
subjects. On Drawing-room days the 
Queen wears a mourning costume with 
diamonds, and the Order of the Garter, 
and about her are grouped the i)riucesses 



EUROPE m STORM AND CALM. 



5f)7 



and many of the dignitaries of the ro3al 
household. The ladies pass slowly be- 
fore the platform, their long trains, 
the feathers in their hair, — for flowers 
are forliidden at court, — giving them a 
most singular appearance. There is no 
buffet, and the fatigue of the long wait- 
ing and the crush in the Drawing-room 
are sometimes so prostrating that a lady 
who has been presented at court does not 
again appear in society during the season. 
The etiquette is of the greatest rigidity. 
The moral character of ever}' person 
who is presented for presentation is 
inspected microscopically, and no lad}' 
who has been caught in the meshes of a 
divorce suit, no matter iiow faultless she 
herself may be, can hope for the momen- 
tary glimpse of the majesty of the realm. 
Buckingham Palace doubtless stands on 
the old JIarlborough garden, which was 
planted by James I. in the seventeenth 
century, and which, after his time, was a 
popular resort, where people of the best 
quality, according to old Evelyn, nsed 
to go to be "exceedingly cheated at." 
There Dryden was wont to go with his 
inistress, Mrs. Anne Reeve, to drink 
sweetened wine and eat cheese-cakes. 
Later on tiiere was a Biickingliam House, 
which the Duke of Buckingham built 
in 1703 ; and Defoe speaks of this as 
one of the great beauties of London. 
George IH. lived at Buckingham House, 



and there many of his children were 
born. There Dr. Johnson used to go to 
consult books in the fine library, and 
there he had a famous conversation one 
day with George III. 

When the Palace was reconstructed, 
in the second quarter of the present 
century, the celebrated Marlile Arch, 
which has long stood on the north-east 
corner of Hyde Park, was one of the 
ornaments of the Palace. It was re- 
moved in 1851. The marble hall and 
sculpture gallery ; the grand drawing- 
room, where, on the occasion of state 
balls, the famous tent of Tippoo Sahib is 
erected; the Throne room, beautifully 
hung with crimson satin, with the royal 
tinnne or chair of state, in which Her 
Majesty is seated wiien she receives ad- 
dresses ; the picture-gallery of moderate 
merit, and sevei'al other gaudy drawing- 
rooms, — are the principal features of the 
Palace. During the pi'esent reign a few 
Costume Balls, as they are called, have 
been held in these halls ; but since the 
death of the Prince Consort the only 
festivals liave been the drawing-rooms 
for presentation, and at all of these at 
which gentlemen are presented the Prince 
of Wales represents the Queen. The 
royal stables are close by ; and the 
Palace can hardly be a healthy resi- 
dence, since under it runs one of the 
greatest of the Loudon sewers. 



558 



EUliOVE IN STORM AM) CALM. 



CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO. 



St. James's Palarc. — The Story of Kensington. — Its Cjaiilcns. — Tlie Charges which Eoyalty Entails. — 
'J"iic Prince of Wales. — An Industrious Heir Apparent. — Marlljorough House. — The Title of 
I'l-inee <if Wales. — IIal>itual \'iews of .Vllowanees to Royal Personages. — Samlringhani. 



OT. .hmios's Piilaee, on the iKH'tli side 
^^ of the Park, is an uoly old pile of 
lihickeiied luirlc, oiiee a hospital for lep- 
rous females. But it is historically most 
interesting, and when it stood in the 
midst of green lields. and before it was 
dwarfed liy the innnediate vicinity of 
the lofly Marlborough House, it was, 
)ierha[is, iinpi'essive. Henry VHI. first 
made ;i r<i\al palace of St. James's: 
Edw:ird ;ind Elizalieth occasionally re- 
sided there : JMary made it the iilaco of 
her retii-cuient during the absence of her 
royal spouse, Pliili|) of Spain ; and 
there she died. From the Chapel Koytil, 
which is one of the fashionable places of 
worship in London, Charles I. set forth 
from the Park guarded with a regiment 
of foot and partisans to Whitehtdl, on the 
morning that he lost bis head. There 
Monk ])launed the Restoration : there 
the Dukes of York and Oloster were im- 
prisoned in the civil wtu's : an<l ;it the 
close of the seventeenth centniy, the 
Court at St. James's was very bril- 
litmt. This ]ihrase, the "Court iif St. 
James's," so constantly used in (bplo- 
matic jargon, came into use shortly after 
the biu-niiig of Whilihall, in KV.iT, when 
the St. James's Palace was first used 
for importaid state ceremonials. George 
IV. was born in this palace, and. in 1.S14, 
the Emi)eror of Russia and the King of 
Prussia with old lUuchcr were installed 
therein daring their visit to London. 
The old cerenioniids of the honors of the 
Ciuard Chamber are still enacted bv tht' 



Yeomen of the (Queen's Guard on Levee 
and Drawing-l{(X)ms days, in honor of 
distinguished visitors. 

Not far away is Clarence House, where 
the Duke of Clarence, who afterwards 
bectune King William IV., for sometime 
resided. This mansion is now the Lon- 
don residence of one of the Princes 
Royal. 

Kensington Palace, which is in the 
jKirish of St. Mark's in AVestminster, is a 
luindsome edifice of brick with stone 
foundations, and stands upon the site 
of the mansion which was destroyed by 
Wvi' in KIKl. In the new p;dace Queen 
^hiry and King William, Queen Anne 
and the Prince Cons(jrt, and George II. 
died. George IIF. rarely visited Ken- 
sington ; but the Dnke of Kent was very 
fond of residing in the lower south- 
eastern apartments, nndeineath the so- 
cnlleil King's Gallery : and there Cjueeu 
Victoria was christened on the '24th 
Juiu\ ISi:). The story of her reception 
of the intelligence of the death of 
Willitim I\'. has been often told, but 
may be once more recited here. The 
noted painter. Sir David Wilkie, has 
left a representation of the scene, but 
with a ptiiuter's license he departed 
som(>wh;it from the truth. In the diaries 
of a lady of (|u;ilit\-. imder the date of 
June, 1.S37, is the following entry : " On 
the '20th at two a. m. the scene closed 
(this is tin allusion to the death of King 
^\■illi:lm), and in a vei-y short time the 
Archbishop of Canterbury and Lord 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CAL.U. 



559 



■Conyngham, the chamberlain set out to 
anuounce the event to their new sover- 
eign. Tliey reached Kensington Palace 
at aliout five. They knocked, they rang, 
they thumped for a considerable time, 
before they could arouse the porter at 
the gates. They were again kept wait- 
ing in the court-yard, then turned into 
one of the lower rooms, where they 
seemed forgotten by everyliody. They 
rang tlie bell, desii'ed that the attendant 
of the Princess Victoria might lie sent 
to inform her Ro\al Highness that thej' 
requested an audience on Imsiness of 
impoi'tance. After another delay, nnd 
anotiier ringing to inquire the cause, the 
attendant was summoned, and stated 
that the Princess was in such a sweet 
sleep that she could not venture to dis- 
turb her. Then they said, 'We are 
come to the Queen, on business of state, 
and even her slei'p must give way to 
tliat.' It did ; and, to |)rovethat she did 
not keep them waiting, in a few minutes 
she came into the room in a loose white 
night-gown and siiawl, her night-caj) 
thrown off, and her iiair falling upon her 
shoulders, her feet in slippers, tears in 
her eyes, Imt perfectly collected tuid 
dignified. The first act of the Queen 
was of course to summon the Council, 
and most of the summonses were not 
received until after the early hour fixed 
for its meeting. The Queen was, upon 
the opening of the doors, found sitting at 
the head of the table. .She received 
first the homage of the Duke of Cumber- 
land, who I suppose was not King of 
Hanover when lie knelt to her. The 
Duke of Sussex rose to perform the 
same ceremony, but the Queen stood up 
and prevented him from kneeling, kiss- 
ing him on the forehead. The ci'owd 
was so great, the arrangements were so 
ill-made, that my brotliers tell nie the 
scene of swearing allegiance to tlu'ir 



young sovereign was more like that of 
the bidding at an auction than anything 
else." 

Not far away are the delightful Ken- 
sington Gnrdens, several hundred acres 
in area, and there, when King William 
lived in the Palace, the great gardens, 
which Queen Caroline had caused to lie 
laid out, were opened to the public on 
Saturdays; and ail visitors were required 
to appear in full dress. It was Queen 
Caroline wiio formed the ser|ientine, 
which divided the Palace grounds from 
the open Ilydc Park ; nnd near the 
bridge over this serpentine thrre are 
mnny fine walks beneath fine old Spanish 
chestnut-trees. 

The nation is proud and pleased to 
pay all the charges which royalty entails 
upon it ; and these charges are various 
and numerous enough to bear recapitula- 
tion here. Theoretically the Queen's in- 
come is free from all taxes and charges ; 
but we leain that Sir Robert Peel, when 
he was prime minister, in 1S42, an- 
n<.ninced that the Queen bad dechired her 
determ'nation to submit to the income 
tax. This statement was received with 
entliusinsin ; but the Queen is supjjosed 
from that ilay to this never to have paid 
any income tax. Among the so-calh'd 
Civil List chiirges on the Consolidiited 
Fund are £60,000 for Iler Majesty's 
privy purse ; £1.31 ,200 for Her IMajesty's 
household, including annual salaries and 
retired allowances; £172.500, expenses 
of Iler Majesty's household ; £i;3,200, 
royal bounty, alms, and special services ; 
pensions granted by Her iSIajesty, £23,- 
71-1 ; unajipropriated items, £8,040 ; reve- 
nues of the Duchy of Lancaster drawn 
by Her Majesty, about £-14,000 annually ; 
expenditure on the royal palaces, several 
thousand poun<ls ; on the great park, 
£2."i,()00 annually, — in short, on all the 
immediate personal expenses and those 



5(iO 



EUROPE IN STORM AX/l CALM. 



connected with the royal residences, 
nearly £.')()(), 000. The royal yachts and 
the naval charges amount to £;34,Gi)0 ; 
and this is the annual average cost of 
the four royal yachts for ten years. 
Escorts and salutes, and the [jay of 
naval and marine aides-de-canip cost 
about i'.'i.OOO more; the military aide- 
de-carn)), the household trooiis, pensions 
in connection with the Orders of the 
Bath and of St. Patrick, allowances to 
marshal of ceremonies and trumpeters, 
and other small items which come under 
the head of royal escort, cost £70,000 
aiuiually. .Many items formerly defrayed 
by tile revenues of tlie crown, such as 
grants to tlie t'iiurch of Scotland, royal 
functionaries m Scotland, hereditary 
usher, the hereditary keeeper, master of 
the audience court, the ollicers of the 
Order of the Thistle, the six trumi)eters. 
Her Majesty's historiographer, clock- 
maker, the warden at regalia. Her Majes- 
ty's charities and bounties, the Ulster 
kingat-arms, the i)ensions paid to Eng- 
lish clergy, the pensions [laid to French 
refugee clergy, bounties to the clergy and 
school-masters of the Isle of JIan, and 
many other items, are now assumed by 
the nation, and count in the sovereign's 
C'ixil List, the total payments on account 
of which are about I'lUlt.OOd annually. 
During the life of the Prince Consort 
£';!0,0()() |)er annum was payable to him, 
and the total sum drawn under the act 
giving him a yearly sum had lieen 
£(;;i(l,000. In IS.")2 a generous gentle- 
man biMpicatluMl £'-J.")0,00(l sterling to 
llei' jNIaji'sty for her personal use. 
If is but [iroper that the <^ueen 
shouhl be a great land-owner, as shi> 
is the head of a landed aristocr.acy, 
and her |)rivate estates, while they do 
not rank in size with the great ducal 
possessions, are very considerable. In 
Aberdeen she has more than twenty-tive 



thousand acres, and her rental from 
Aberdeen, Hants, and Surrey is about 
£.">,. TOO. The grand estate of AVindsor 
is more than ten thousand acies, aTid is 
valued at £22,000 odd per annum. The 
Queen bought Claremont for £74,000, in 
lis.S2. This noble property cost Lord 
(live nearly £1.JO,000, and covers four 
hundred and sixty-four acres. Resides 
her English possessions the Queen has 
property at C'obuig and at Baden, in 
(iermany. 

Other payments by the nation to the 
royal family may lie brietly reviewed 
as follows : H.R.H. the Princess Royal, 
piesent Crown Princess of Prussia, the 
able, amiable, and interesting wife of 
Prince Frederick ^Villianl, heir to the 
German throne, received yearly, after 
1858. £8,000 ; and there is an odd little 
item of £40 for a special steamer to con- 
vey the Crown Prince to and fro when- 
ever he visits England attached to the 
estimates on behalf of this princess 
royal. When she was married, the nation 
gave her a money grant of £40,000. 

The Prince of Wales has received 
anmially since 18(;;i £41l,iiOO, as a 
charge on the Consolidated Fund, be- 
sides which he enjoys the revenues of 
the Duchy of Cornwall, wliich have 
averaged £(j.'i.oOO aininally for the last 
ten vears. This Duchy of Cornwall is 
a little treasury in itself. The lands of 
the duchy are aliout seventy-four thou- 
sand acres in area, and tlie coal, tin, 
and lead mines yield enormously. The 
iin rsted and cash balances of the duchy 
amount to £130,000. For annual re- 
pairs of ]Marll)orough House the Prince 
has aliout £2.000. The Princess of 
AVales has a se|)arate annual charge on 
the Consolidated Fund of £10.000 ; and 
whruc\er the Prince makes a journey in 
the interest of the nation, as when he 
went to St. Petersburg to invest the 



EUROrK I.V SrORM AXn CALM. 



561 



Czar v.ith the Orderof the Garter, liis trav- 
elling expenses are from £2,0()0to£.!,000. 
Short!}" before he reached his 
majority the Prince of Wales 
received the accumulated rev- 
enues of the Duchy of Corn- 
wall, amounting to more than 
£G00,OOO. Of this sum one- 
third was invested in the i)nr- 
chase of Sandringham, and a 
part of the remainder was 
spent in building the pretty 
mansion there, and in fittini! 
out the Prince and his Jious<'- 
hold f(jr liis active campaign 
of social duty. The Prince of 
Wales is the tirst gentleman, 
as the Premier or Prime Jlin- 
ister is the first man, in Eng- 
land. The position <>f heir- 
apparent to the throne is 1 ly 
no means a bed of roses. 
It is as trying and requires 
as energetic conduct as that 
of a great politician ; \\m\ in 
troublous times tlie conduct 
of the present Prince, as well 
as his energy and courage, 
have done much to prevent 
crises. When the Queen is 
puzzled and annoj'ed at Mr. 
Gladstone's course it is the 
Prince of Wales who pops 
into the Premier's office and 
makes him a friendly call. 
When there is a chance for a 
favorable alliance on the con- 
tinent, it is the Prince of 
Wales who appears in Paris 
or Rome, Berlin or Vienna, 
leaving always an excellent 
im[iression behind him, and 
often .accomplishing in a few moments' 
conversation what the diplomats have 
been l)rin'j;ing up to the verge of accom- 
plishment during long months of wear\' 



xchauge of despatches. The Prince is 
lut a small land-owner, for he has luit 




PRINCE OF WALES. 
From phnti'grnphs of A. Bassano, Old Bond street, London, 



a rental of £10,000 from fourteen tho\i- 
sand eight hundred acres in Norfolk and 
Aberdeenshire. Should the Princess of 
Wales survive her luisband she would 



5(12 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CAL,U. 



I'cccivp from the nation f.'iD.OOd per 
niiiiuin. (ir £10.(1(10 less tlian she now 
iVfeivus ill addition to her own portion. 
Wlien the I'riiU'c went to India, in 1.S7.), 
out of tlie £N"2.000 expendod dnriiio; the 
joiirnej', £(50,000 wa.s allowed as i>oel<et- 
jnoney and to bo given as o-nitiiitics. It 
is not astonishing tliat all who i)artiei- 
jnited in that memora])le excursion never 
cense to sing the praises of the Prince 
"f Wales. 

The entrance to Marlborough House, 
which is the town residence of the Prince 
and Princess of AVales, looks like the 
entrance of a great club, and the 
stranger might be pardoned for mistak- 
ing it for a chib-house, as it stands in 
the region of the costly palaces which 
the great number f)f club associations 
have adopted as peculiar to their own. 
This house, which has been much im- 
jtroved in later years, was built for Ihe 
great Duke of Marlborough, in 1710, 
was at one time the residence of Queen 
Adelaide, wjdow of William I\'.. and 
later on, was a kind of museum, until the 
dejjarlment of science and art was re- 
moved to .South Kensington, when Marl- 
borough House was [ireparcd for a princely 
residence. There all the Prince's cliil- 
dred, except the eldest, were horn, and 
tlicre the heir-apparent lives a cosy and 
honest English life, receiving cordially 
great numbers of frien<ls without much 
of that strictness and eticiuelte which 
prevails in his goodly mother's palace of 
Wiiiilsor. The sentries, majestic in 
their bearskin caps, who walk up and 
down before ^Marlborough House and the 
entrance to St. James's Park, are the 
only indications that royalty graces the 
neighborhood. 

It is generally supposed in America 
and on the continent that the title of 
Prince of Wales is hereditary for the 
eldest son of the reigning English so\er- 



eigii, that he has a right to assume it 
as soon as he is l)orii. lUit the fact is 
that every heir-ap|)arent to the English 
throne is Prince of W.iles only by an 
act of special creation in his own par- 
ticular case. Sometimes this act is de- 
layed for many years, and sometimes 
it is not enforced at all. Edward II. 
was the tirst Prince of Wales, the story, 
which has been t(.ild recently in the 
British press on tlie occasion of the 
majority of the eldest son of the present 
Prince, being that, •• to reconcile the 
Welsh people to their subjugation, and 
to the recognition of the sovereignty 
instead of the mere suzerainty of the 
English, King Edward I. promised them 
a prince born in their own conntrv, and 
unable to speak a word v{ English." 

The legend tells us that the shrewd 
Edward kept his luomise by jiresenting 
to the Welsh peo|ile his son Kilward, who 
had just been boi-ii at Carnarvon, and 
who certainly could not speak English, 
and who would have found it just as 
diOk'ult to siieak Welsh Edward II. 
was not created Prince of Wales until he 
was seventeen; Edward III. was never 
made Prince of Wales, but was called 
the Earl of Chester ; the Black Prince 
Edward was called Prince of Wales when 
lie was thirteen, and from his time date 
the three ostrich feathers and the motto 
'• Ich Dien" (I serve), the |)rincely de- 
vice, which the jn'csent lieii-api)arent 
thoroughly fulfils. Some of the princes 
of Wales, notably lie who became 
George IV., certainly served no one but 
themselves. The famous ]\Iadea[) Prince, 
of whom Shakespeare has given us such 
pleasant pictures, was a Prince of 
Wales : and after him there is a long 
line of princes good, and princes bad. 
George I.'s son did not become Prince 
of Wales until he was thirty-two. 
Among the bad princes may be set 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



r)()3 



down Frederick, Prince of Wnlcs, 
whose reputation is snmmod up in the 
lilting epitaph written shortly after liis 
death : — 



This Fred, however, left a son to he 
Prince of Wales, and afterwards to be 
George III., of whom America heard 
much. 




PKINCKSS OF WALES AND FAMILY. 
From phi»tot:raph9 nf W. .s: I). Downing, Ebiiry street, London. 



" Here lies Fred, who was alive and now is dead. 
Had it been his father, I had much rather, 
Had it been his brotlier, sooner tlian any other, 
Had it been his sister, there is ni> one who 

would have missed her, 
Had it been his whole generation, best of all 

for the nation ; 
But since it's only Fred, there is no more to lie 

said." 



In an interesting article ))ublished in 
the " Daily News " Inst year, occurs the 
following statement concerning the finan- 
cial arrangements for tlie Prince of 
Wales : " Until the accession of the 
Queen, the annuity of tlie Prince of 
Wales had depeuded solely on the tlieu 



564 



EUROl'E IX STURM AXD CALM. 



reigning sovereign, and was granted by 
him (iiil (if the Civil List, (ieorge I. 
gave (Hit (if a Civil List (if £700,000 a 
year an annuity (if £100, Oin t(i the 
Trinoe of Wales, the revenue of the 
Dnchy of Cornwall lieiug aliont £lU()(i(i 
a year. After he lieeanie king he did 




DKl'AUTUHE OF THE PRINCE OF WALES FOR INDIA. 



not enuilate his father's generosity. 
George II was the Ilarpagon of kings. 
He nnisl have been the original of the 
king in the nursery rhyme, who was al- 
ways in his eiunitiiig-house. eonnting of 
his monev. f(ir that was one of his 
favorite oeeupations. Iloraee Walpole 
mentions that one of his liedehamlier 
women, with whom lie was in love, 
seeing him connt his monev very often, 



said to him : •• Sir, I ean bear it no 
longer. If you count your money once 
more I will leave the room." The 
contrast between the miserly father and 
the siiendthrift son is ([uite in the vein 
of the old e(.iniedy. It belongs to the 
oldest couiedy. that of huniaii nature. 
'• George 11.. out of 
his Civil List of fMOO,- 
000, allowed to Fred- 
crick, Prince of Wales, 
,!." a ' poor, dissohite, tlaliby 

fellow - creature,' says 
Carlyle, an annuity of 
£GO,000, which, with 
his hereditary revenue 
as Duke of Cornwall, 
gave him£G0,00O a year. 
The alleged inade(iuacy 
of this allowance was, 
at the instigation of 
li(.iliiigl)roke, brought 
before the House of 
Commons by Pultene}', 
whom the King struck 
off the list (jf the I'rivy 
Council for his pains. 
Thinngh llie intrigues 
of the Court at Leicester 
House, a motion for its 
increase was nearly 1 icing 
carried. The annuity 
which George III. him- 
self granted to his Prince 
of Wales, afterwards 
George IV., was £.50,- 
0(10. the annual revenue of the Duchy of 
Cornwall aniouutiug to about £12,000. 
(ieorge. Prince of Wales, bore consid- 
erable resemblance, in character, to his 
erandfatlier, Frederick, Prince of Wales. 
He imitated him in political intrigue, 
and endeavored, through his friends iu 
the House of Commons, to obtain an 
increase in the annual allowance made to 
him. After some unsuccessful attempts. 



EUROPE ly STORM AXD CALM. 



565 



the King, not desiring to run tho risk 
which his grandfather had incurred on 
Mr. Pulteney's nearly successful motion, 
made a proposal by Mr. Alderman Not- 
tage, in the Iloine of Commons, in 1787, 
for granting an additional £10,000 a 
year out of the Cixil List. In 17!).') an 
additional annuity of £(j5,000 was set- 
tled U|)on the Prince, and in 1803 a fur- 
ther addition of £10.000 a year was 
made. This increase was, however, 
practically mortgaged for the payment 
of the Prince's debts, [uit down at 
£050,000, and did not swell the income 
available lor his personal expenses." 

It is said, that, as the numerous grand- 
children of the Queen marry, the sums 
which have been voted by Pailiament to 
the members of the loyal family will be 
enormoush' increased. The Princess 
Beatrice, the last of the children, will, 
doubtless, have as generous a pro[)or- 
tional allowance as has been made in tho 
case of her brothers and sisters. " liut," 
says a recent writer, '' when tho time 
comes for dealing with the third genera- 
tion of the royal house, it may be neces- 
sary to reconsider what is expedient and 
practical." The grandchildren of George 
III., to whom annuities have been voted, 
are only three, — the Duke of Cambridge 
and his two sisters. The English-born 
grandchildren of her present Majesty 
are no fewer than eighteen, — very likely 
to be more. It is well, perhaps, that 
the prospects to be made in respect to 
provision tor them should be established 
in a new House of ComuKjns, more 
fairly re|)resenting (he general owners of 



the country than any of its predecessors. 
Mr. Bright once described the public 
service of tho country as a gigantic sys- 
tem of out-door relief for the aristocracy. 
The statement is uuich less true now 
than when Mr. Bright made it. The 
younger members of the aristocracy, 
the Lord AValters and Lionels, and the 
Hon. Alans and Johns, are flocking into 
commerce, professions, and adventures, 
are tilling a state and clearing tlu' back- 
woods. The time may come; when the 
remoter scions of the Royal House may 
find the need and the happiness of taking 
a similar course. 

Tho heir-apparent of the heir-ai'ipar- 
ent. Prince Albert Victor Charles Artiuu' 
Kdward, known to his family and at his 
iniiversity as Prince Edward, has re- 
cently attained his majority, after having 
been to sea, :is becomes an I'^nglish 
Prince, and seen a good bit of the world. 
At Trinity College, Cambridge, which 
Macaulay called tho noljlest place of 
education in the world, he has been read- 
ing many hours daily, and his iirst iiublic 
acts, such as the exchange of notes with 
the venerable Gladstone, and numerous 
rciivcscnt:itives and politicians, indicate 
much strength of character. Saudring- 
ham, where the festivities on his coming 
of age took place, lies in a pretty' coun- 
try near the sea, among hills and rich 
marsh meadows, dotted with cattle and 
wild and picturesque stretches of heath, 
broken by plantations. The house is 
surrounded by a handsome park dotted 
with lakes. 



5(5(5 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE. 



Fortunes and Incomes of Members of the English Royul Family. — Ancient and Hereditary Pensions. — 
Tlic Invisilile Court. — Its Functionaries. — Presidency. — The Aristocratic Element in the House 
of C'liuinions. 



THE c'liiiiges upon the " Cousolidatcil 
Fiinil," caused by the inahitenanee 
of the Roya! Family, do uot cease with 
(he liaudsome payments to the Queen 
au<l to her eldest son. His Royal Highuess 
Alfred, Duke of P^dinbnrgh, has received 
annually, since attaining his majoiity, in 
18(;'j, £l.j,000, aiid after his marriage in 
1874, £10,(100. His pay and allowance 
as Rear Admiral and superintendent of 
naval reserves, amount to nearly £1..jOO 
per annum. He has the free use of 
Clarence House, on which Parliament 
spent a vast sum in altering it and 
fitting it for his use. He is shortly to 
inherit the great estates and wealth of 
the reigning Duke of Saxe Coliurg and 
an income of fully £;;o,000 yearly. His 
wife brought him a prettv fortune of 
£',)(), 000, besides a imirriage i)ortion of 
£;500,000 and a life annuity of more 
than £11,000. In ease she outlives the 
Duke, she is to have £G,000 in Consols. 
The immense aecunnilation thus e!iu- 
merated was the basis of the strenuous 
opposition of Sir Charles Dilke and 
others, in 1.S74. to a new grant to the 
Prince, who had married the richest 
heiress in Europe. lUit only eighteen 
people ventured to vote against the 
Crown. Her Royal Highness Eleanor, 
Princess Christian, is allowed £0,000 
ammally, and on the occasion of her 
marriage was given £;^0,000. .She has 
Ciuul)erlanil Lodge, Windsor Pai'k, as a 
royal residence. The Prince CIn'istian, 
who is the Park Ranger, gets from tlie 



Queeu £.'iOO a year, besides many )ier- 
i|uisites. The gracious and eharniiug 
Marchioness of Lome, her Royal High- 
uess Princess Louise, also receives 
£(),O00 from the nation, and had out of 
the annual approjiriations £;30,000 when 
she was married. She lives iu Ken- 
sington Palace, rent free. The late 
Priucess Alice of Hesse also had an 
annual gi-ant of £0,000 in Consols, a 
dowry of £30,000, aud duriug her life- 
time received from the nation £126,000. 
His Royal Highness Arthur, Duke of 
Counaught, up to his majority in 1871, 
had received £0,000 per annum, and 
since his majority has had £10,000 an- 
nually. He draws £4,000 every year as 
military pay, aud his wife brought him a 
dowry of £1.'),0(I0. Mr. Gladstone, who 
supported ihe annuity bill iu Parliament 
for this Prince, was excluded from the 
list of iu\itations when the Duke was 
married. The Duke of Connanght has 
a suit of rooms in Buckingham Palace, 
and a fiue mansion at liagshot Park, 
built for him and administered by the 
Woods and Forests Department. From 
1874 to ISS-i, his late Royal Highness, 
the Prince Leo|)old, Duke of Albany, 
received annually £l.>,000; £10,000 a 
year when he was married, in 1882, and 
at the time of his marriage w.as given 
£140.000 by the English people. Her 
Royal Highness, the Duchess of Cam- 
bridge, has received £0,0O0 annually 
since her widowhood in 1850. Her 
Royal Highuess Augusta, Princess aud 



EUROPE IX STURM AXn CALM. 



5fi7 



Duchess of ]\Iei-klinbnro:-Strflitz,has had 
£3,000 yearly siiiee 1843, when she was 
married ; and whenever she journeys 
abroad, it is in a s|)eeial steamer, for 
which £80 is allotted. His R(..yal llioli- 
ness George, Duke of Cambridge, has 
£12,000, liesides game-rights, residences, 
and pastiu-ages, amounting to £3,000 
more |)er year. As Field Marshal com- 
manding-in-chief, he has £4,jOO per 
year, and as Colonel of the Grenadier 
Guards, a little more than £2,000 per 
year. Thus the head of the army receives 
about£33,000 every year, as commander- 
in-chief, and nearly £70,000 as a gift 
from the nation. Audacious attempts 
have been made in Parliament to reduce 
these payments. Joseph Hume, John 
Bright, and others have attempted to 
lower them to £8,000 or £12.00(1, but in 
vain. In London, the Duke of Cam- 
bridge resid(s iuGloster House, in Picca- 
dilly, which has been given him by the 
Queen as his town residence. 

Mary, Princess of Teck, has £.'..0(10 
annually. His Serene Highness the 
Prince Edward of Saxe Weimar has 
about £3,.')00. and various nephews have 
half-pay or retired pay, as vice-admirals 
or as governors of castles or park-keepers. 
Ill addition to these there is a long list 
of pensions to servants of deceased 
sovereigns ; and the grand total of monev 
paid out by Great Britain, in twelve 
months, in connection with the royal 
family, is about £870,(100, to which 
should be addeil the cost of keeping ii[i 
the I'oyal [lublic parks and pleasure-gar- 
dens, — Battersea, Bethnal Green, I>usliy 
Park, Chelsea Military Asylum, Edin- 
burgh Royal Botanic Gardens, Green- 
wich, Hampton Court, Kew, Holyrood, 
Kensington,. Regent's Park, and Prim- 
rose Hill, Richmond Park, St. James's 
Park, Victoria Park, etc., (id hijiuilnm. 
But the nation oix-^s this monev verv 



willingly, because it really considers it as 
spent upon its own pleasures, and it pre- 
fixes each i)ark with the word "royal," 
to confer upon it an additional dignity. 
The nation sums up and embodies its 
own majesty in the royal family, and it 
considers that it gives proof of its own 
magnificence in treating these hereditary 
representatives raagnitieently. 

At all times, until recent years, the 
sovereigns of England have felt free to 
bestow pensions with reckless generosity, 
and Great Britain has an enormous list 
of ancient and hereditar}' pensioners. 
The present Queen has in forty-six years 
expended nearly £7.jO,UOO in Civil List 
pensions. The unredeemed ancient pen- 
sions, the grants made by Parliament in 
perpetuity, and pensions granted since 
the passage of the Restraint Acts, and 
made payable for more than one life, 
give an enormous total. But England is 
not the only country which is encumbered 
with |)ensioners. It is to be noted, how- 
ever, that, year by year, a large part of 
the increase in expenditure on pensions 
and gratuities conies from the army esti- 
mates, and is due to the constant small 
and large wars in which England is 
engaged. The Financial Reform Al- 
manac calls attention to the fact that, in 
that black year of trade, 1884, John 
Bull has had to [lay a corps of 140,0(10 
pensioners, military, naval, and civil, for 
doing nothing, and that their drawing, 
amounting to £7,500,(100 .sterling, swal- 
lowed \\\\ the whole of the income tax 
laid on the national profits during twelve 
months. 

A brief review of Her Majesty's 
household and the expenses attendant 
upon it may not be considered uninter- 
esting by republican readers. In the 
Lord Steward's department, the Lord 
Steward, Rt. Hon. Ii^arl Sydney, receives 
£2.000 a \ ear ; the Treasurer of the 



508 



ErrROPK /.v sroRM and calm. 



Household and the Controller, £1,(11)0 
eaeh; M.isteruf tiie HonsehoM, .£l,l.").s ; 
Seoret,irv to the Board, £.jn0 ; Keeper 
of the Privy Purse and Private Seer.tarv 
to Her Majesty, Hon. Sir H. F. Ponson- 
l)y, whose name is scj often seen alllxcd 
to telegrams sent from Her Majesty, 
£2,000; an Assistant Keeper, £:i,()()l) ; 
another Assistant, £001); Seeretary of 
the Privy Purse, £;'.,000 ; and Clerks, 
trivial salaries. In the Lord Chamber- 
lain's department, tlie Lord Chanilier- 
lain, the Earl of Kinmare, lias £J,i)0() 
per year; the Viee-Chanil)erlain, nearly 
£1,0(»() ; the Controller of Aeeouiits, llie 
same ; the Chief Clerk, £700 ; Paymaster 
of the Household, £J00 ; Master of Ihe 
Ceremonies, £3,000 ; the Lords-in-Wait- 
ing, eaeh £702 ; the extra Lord-in-Wait- 
ing gets no salary ; (irooms-in-Waiting, 
each £;334, but extra Ciroonis-inAVaiting 
are without [lay ; the (ientlenicn Usliei-s 
of the Pnvy Ch.imber. eaeh £-.'iH) ; the 
Gentleman I'sli-r of tlie Llaek Kod, 
£2.0 10; (Jentliiiicn I'-lp.rs. daily wait- 
ers, eonsidered a \ery honorable ap- 
pointment, eaeh .£200; Grooms of the 
Privy Chamber, eaeh £120; Gentlemen 
Ushers, (juarterly waiters, eaeh £.Si) ; 
Sergeants-at-Arms, eaeh £80 ; the Poet 
Laureate, Lord Tennyson, £100; the 
Examiner of Plays, £500 ; the Lilnarian 
at AVindsor, £.jOO. In addition to these 
there are attached to this intangible 
court, for which the French writer, 'SI. 
Daryl, seems to have sought in vain, a 
Painter in Ordinary, a luuderu Painter 
and (Sculptor, a Surveyor of Pictures, 
a German Liliraiian, a Governor Con- 
stable of Windsor Castle, Her Maj- 
esty's liodv (luard of Yeomen of the 
Guard, with a captain, at £l,2O0 a year; 
an honoral)le guard of Gentlemen-at- 
Arms, with a cai)tain, at £1.200, with a 
standard-bearer, wi h a clerk of the 
cheque, an adjutant, and a snb-ofHcer. 



■J'liere is also a Master of the Horse, 
the well-known Duke of Westminster, 
at £2,.)00 ; a Master of the Buck Hounds, 
at fl,.")0O; a Clerk of the Marshal, at 
£1.000; an hereditary (Jrand Falconer, 
if you please, at £1,200; a Crown 
Ivpierry and Seeretary to llie lAIaster of 
th<' lloi'se, at £8,000 ; sevei'al K(iueiries 
in Oi'dinary, at £600 and £.'iOO ; extra 
Honorary Equerries, pages of honor. 
In the department of the Jlistress of the 
IJobes tliei'e is first the mistress, the 
Duchess of Roxl)nrghe, wlio receives 
£,"(00 a year. Ladies of the Bed-chamber, 
extra Ladies of the Bed-chamber. Be((- 
(.■liamber Women, extia Be(|-ch.'inibei' 
Women, a Lady altcndant upon 
Princess Beatrice, the Maids of 
Honor, each of these last receiving 
£:)00 a year; thetiroom of the Robes, 
and a Clerk of the Robes. There are, 
fiirtlii'rmore, the Dean of the Chapels 
Rov.al. who is no less a ]>ersoii:ige than 
the Bishop of London ; a Snli-Deau, a 
Clerk of the Closet, Deputy Clerks of the 
Closet, a Domestic Chaplain, a Domes- 
tie C haplain of the Household, an lieredi- 
tai-y (irand Almonei', a High Almoner, 
a Sub-almoner, a Secretary anil a Yeo- 
man. Tiiere are also numerous phy- 
sicians iu ordinary, extraordinary, 
surgeons in oidinary, .sui'geous extra.or- 
diuary, physicians of the household, 
surgeons of the household, suri;eou 
apotheearies. surgeon at Osborne, sur- 
i;eon oculists, surgeon dentists, dentists 
of the household, ami chemists and 
druggists, all attached to the Royal 
House. 

The arrangement of the Prince of 
Wales's household is, on the whole, ex- 
tremely .simple, and there are no salaries 
attaching to any of the appointments: 
the Keeper of the Privy Seal, the Lords of 
the Bed-chamber, the Controller and 
Treasurer, the Grooms of theBed-cham- 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



/)liy 



ber, the Equerries, the extra K(iiK'i'ries, 
the Private ISeeret:iry, the Librarian and 
German Seciet;iry, the Clerks, the Gover- 
nors for the Prinee, the Physicians, Sur- 
geons, etc., and they are few as compared 
with the great array of the Queen's attend- 
ants. The liousehold of the Princess of 
AV'ales is composed of the Chamberlain, 
the Ladies of the Bed-chainlier, who are 
always ladies of high distinction ; ISed- 
cliamber Women, extra Bed-chamber 
Women, and a Private Secretary. All 
this enormous expenditure and weight of 
salaries, paid for services which are, to 
say the least, in a great majority of cases 
entirely unnecessary and rarely per- 
formed, is placed upon tlie broad backs 
of the Englisli middle classes, and is 
home almost with ease. 

'ihe vast superstructure of royalty and 
aristocracy is ap|i.irent to tlie stranger no- 
where so )>:dpal)ly as at a public banquet, 
where, after the toasts are begun, he ob- 
seives that it takes almost as long as is 
allotted to orilinnry speeches in dinners in 
many other countries to get down to the 
subject-matter of the evi uiug. 'lliere 
are, first, what are called the loyal toasts, 
which are mver omitted, anil which, at 
dinners of importance, almost invariably 
comprise the army and navy, the church 
and tlie huv, if llie law is present. Tlie 
reason for this is easily found in the 
table of precedency, which is as familiar 
and as much a matter of course to Eng- 
glish men and women as it is odd and 
singular to many foreigners. The table 
naturally begins with the sovereign, and 
deseenils in the following order: the 
I'rince of Wales, the Queen's younger 
Sons, the (irandsons of the sovereign, 
the Archbishop of Canterburj', the Lord 
High Chancellor, the Archbishop of York, 
the Archbishop of Armagh, the Arch- 
bishoi) of Dublin, the Lord President of 
the Privy Council, the Lord of the Priv^' 



Seal, the Lord Great Chamberlain, the 
Earl Marshal, the Lord Steward of Her 
Majesty's Household, the Lord Chamber- 
lain : then come the Uukes, according to 
their patents of creation, of England, 
Scotland, Wales, and Irelaml. and those 
created since the Union; in the same 
order as dukes, dukes' eldest sons, earls, 
according to their patents, marquises' 
eldest sons, dukes' younger sons, vis- 
counts, according to their patents, earls' 
eldest sons, marquises' younger sons ; the 
bishops of London, Durham, and Win- 
chester ; all other English liishops, ac- 
cording to seniority of creation ; bishops 
of the Irish Church created before bSGll ; 
Sef'i-etaries of State, if they be barons ; 
liarons, according to their patents. \\ e 
have now come down through a long list 
to a very important parliamentary func- 
tionary, who is heaid quite as much of 
ill the course of a year as the tjueen or 
the Piince of Wales, but who, as will 
n-adily be seen, is a long way from the 
ihroue, — this is the Speaker of the 
House of Commons. Below him is the 
Treasurer of Her Majesty's Household, 
the Controller of Her lALijesly's House- 
hold, the IMaster of the Horse, the Vice- 
t hamberlain of Her Majesty's House- 
hold, the Secretaries of State under the 
degree of baron, viscounts' eldest sons, 
earls' younger sons, barons' eldest sons, 
Knights of the Garter, Privy Councillors, 
the Chancellor of the Exchequer, the 
(,'hancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, 
the Lord Chief Justice of the Queen's 
Bench, the Master of the Rolls, the 
Lords Justice of Appeal, the Lords of 
Appeal, Judges, according to seniority, 
viscounts' younger sons, barons' younger 
' sons, baronets, .according to date of 
patents. Knights of the Thistle, Knights 
of St Patrick, Knights of the Grand 
Cross of the Bath, Knights Grand Com- 
mandei-s of the Star of India, Knights of 



570 



EUROPE IN STORM AM) CALM. 



the Grand Cross of St. Michaol and St. 
George, Knigh'.s Commanders of the 
Balli, Knigiits Commanders of the Star 
of India, Knights Commauders of .St. 
Michael and St. George, Knights Bache- 
lors, Judges of Countv Courts, Com- 
panions of the Bath, Comiianions of the 
Star of India, Companions of St. JMichael 
and 1st. George, Companions of tlie lu- 
(.lian Empire, eldest sons of the younger 
sons of peers, baronets' eldest sons, 
eldest sons of Knights of the Gaiter, 
Thistle, St. Michael and St. George, St. 
Patrick, the Bath, the Star of India, 
Knights liaclielors, younger sons of the 
younger sous of [)eers, barouets' younger 
sons, yoiuiger sons of knights in the 
same order as eldest sons ; and, hually, 
gentlemen entitled to bear arms, in 
^vhom we recognize our old friend Armi- 
ger or Esciuire. Tiie ladies take the 
same rank as their husbands or :is their 
brothers; but merely otlicial raiii< on 
the husband's part does not give any 
similar piecedence to the wife. When 
it is remembered that in every large 
assembly, like that of a meeling lie- 
fore a great banquet, or a reception, 
a crush, a party, this table of prece- 
dence takes form in the mind of the 
[lersons wiio manage or give the enter- 
tainments, and is adliered lo with all Ihe 
rigidity possible under the circumstances, 
it is easy to see that conventional form 
is a prime element in every English 
gathering, or at the public dinners. It 
is sometimes galling to cultivated and 
distinguished representatives of the 
United States to be placed in inferior 
positions at table, far below the .Ta[);inese 
Ministir, or. possibly some petty East 
Indian potentate. simply because 
America sends aliroad only ministers 
with extraordinary powers ; and an am- 
bassador must necessarily take prece- 
dence of a minister. 



The aristocracy represented iu this 
court practically governs England ; and 
it is striking to oliserve that in the 
House of Commons the aristocratic and 
landed interest far exceeds any other. 
In the |ircsent House, for instance, 
there are one hundred and forty-one 
members who are connected with the 
peel-age by birth, and one hundred and 
twenty eight connected with it by mar- 
riage, and three Irish [leers. There 
are one hundred and sixty-eight ofliceis 
of the army, retired officers, prominent 
officers of the navy, the militia, and 
the yeomanry ; there are seventy-nine 
sons and heirs of [leers who are great 
land-owners, one luindred and ninety- 
eight land-owners, and but four farm- 
ers, one mason, and one miner. It 
is estimated that the House of Com- 
mons represents a collective ownership 
of seven millions live hundred seventy- 
seven thousand nine liniidri'd and sev- 
enty-four acres of land, which yield a 
rent-roll of £."..;)!) 1 .".'bs ; but the House of 
Lcuils iTprescnts an ownership in acres 
of tifteei: million two hundred thirteen 
thousand two hundred and eighty-nine, 
giving a rental of tT2,7ri], .VJO : and if 
to this we should add the acres and 
rentals of representative peers, we 
should have, as tlii' total land representa- 
tion of the })eerage, — some hve hundred 
and twenty-four men, — sixteen million 
four hundred eleven thousand nine 
hundred and eighty-six acres, worth 
£l.'j,.')42,<'i20 per annum. All but thirty- 
three t>f the peers who sit in the House of 
L(uds are land-owners, and there is paid 
to them, in anuuiiies, pensions, and 
salaries, £.jl)8,000 annually, of which the 
peers royal get £1(I(),U1)() odd. and the 
jirelates or spiritual peers, about .I'lOri,- 
000. Allhough the House of Lords is 
pretty I'airly divided into Conservative 
and Liberal sections, on questions of laud 



EUROI-E IN STORM AND CALM. 



571 



the Liberals flock over to tlic Conserva- 
tive side. Tlie fortunes reiiresented in 
tliis ancient, and laiterly, rather tried, 
body of aristocrats, are enormous, and 
a few facts relating to thein, recentl}' 
publislied in England, are worth giving 
here. The Duiie of Northumberland re- 
ceived £525,000 in 1873 from the rate- 
payers in London for his old castle in 
Trafalgar square. The Duke of Suth- 
erlaud had £300,000 invested in railways 
in the north of Scotland in 1874. It 
was estimated that the value of the 
estates in the AVest i^nd of London 
owned by the Duke of Westminster was 
£220,000 a year, — more tium a million 
dollars a year as ground rent.l. Tlie 
Duke of Hamilton, who ha.s coal-fields 
covering nearly nine thousand acres, 
gets royalties of £114, OdO annually, and 
the ultimate value of these coal-fields is 
estimated at more than $60,000,000. 
This is the noble Duke who sold his 
library for £170,000 in 1884. An idea 
of the fortune of the Marquis of Bute 
may be had from the fact that he si)ent 
£1,000,000 sterling on Cardiff docks 
to impiKwe them. The Earl of Derby 
owns Bootle and Kirkdale, Liverpool, 
and gets enormous sums from the ISIer- 



sey Dock Board. The Earl of Sefton 
got a quarter of a million sterling from 
the corporation of Liver|i(wl for three 
hundred and seventy-five acres of land 
for a park. Earl Dudley exhibited the 
diamonds of his Countess at the Vienna 
Exhibition, and their value was stated 
at £."jOO,000 sterling. The Duke of 
Norfolk sold a market to the Sheflield 
Corporation in 187G for £270,000. The 
P^arl of Seafield has forests forty- one 
thousand acres in extent. Their wood 
was estimated in 1850 to tie worth 
£1,200,000. It is said that, in thiity 
years from this time, one of these forests 
will give £50,000 a year from its nine- 
teen thousand acres. The Earl of Stam- 
ford got £175,000 for one estate of three 
hundred acres of wooded land in 1875. 
No wonder these great land-owners cling 
to their land. Hundreds of the smaller 
land owners, finding their tenant farm- 
ers discontented and deserting them, 
say, in melancholy tone, that they are, in 
the expressive southern phrase, '• land 
poor." Out of the whole seveuty-seveu 
million eight hundred thousand acres in 
the United Kingdom, twelve men own 
four million four hundred forty thousand 



572 EURori-: i.v storm and calm. 



CHAPTER srXTY-FOUR. 

The P:irliament Palace. — Ilistoi-y and Traililion. — The New Home of the Phitocrats. — The Victoria 
Ti)wer. — Westminster Hall. — The lluiisc of Lords. — Procedure in tlie llercilitary Chamher. — 
Tile I-'oree of Iiierlin. — Parliamentary Calm. 

THE liiifje gothic palace <i|)i)Osite tlie to Eliznlieth. It is liist named in :t 

Tiiamcs is i-rrtainly the most iiii- charter of Edward tlie Confessor, made 

pressive of modern Enii;lish monuments, a little after 1052 ; and within the old 

anil is said to be the largest range of palace walls the Confessor died. In 

pid)lic Imildings erected for several ceil- KXiC), William the Norman lu'ld his 

tiiiies in (Ireat Uritain. Every great conncils there; there the Abbot of 

n.-il inn thinks it possesses the first legis- Peterlioro was tried befon.' the King in 

lative assemlily of the world, and that lOII'.l ; there William Rnfns bnilt his 

when the nienibcrs of that assembly great hall with its majestic and phe- 

conie together, the li-.tening peoples in noniciiiil roof, which not even the mali- 

the four (piarters of the glolic tremble cious Iiish patriots with their dynamite 

with excitement. Ihit there is some c;in shake, and which is quite as likely 

foundation for tlie English boast that as royalty itself to last for many cen- 

tlic I'arliament Houses shelter the first ttiries to come. In this great hall Wil- 

p:irli;iini'nt of the world ; lor in no two liani Knfns held his court in 101)1) ; 

other legislative chninbers is so wide a tlu'rc ;ilso Henry I. gave many a fes- 

range of forci', and one coveiing and tival. In li'.'ls the boisleroiis Thames 

surrounding so va>t an extent of sea invaded the great hall, and ilignitaries 

;ind hind ever discussed and directed, of the State went to and Iro in l>oats 

A\'lien we hear (Hi the Continent of under the roof of William Rtifiis. But 

'• i>arlianientarv goxernmeiit." and of repeated coiillagrations ate away the 

" piirliainentary |ii(><'cduie." these terms greater part of the old palace, the great 

mean soaiething so totally different from hall always being kept in good repair 

what they represent in England, that a for feasts, for coronations, for anaign- 

compari-on of the diffi'ivnce would be nient of personages charged with 

almost astonishing. A mass of llnwerv treason, and for the kee|iing of the 

trtidition of almost as rich a gothic as courts of justice. There Henry VIII. 

the exterior of the Parliament Houses defied the legate of the Pope; and 

surrounds all the proceedings of the sometimes parliaments were held tiiei'ein. 

English legislative bodies; yet the pal- In I«.3t a great fire swept avv.ay St. 

aee in wdiich they meet is as new Stephen's Chnpel," the House of Ix)rds, 

as the plntocrticy which has crept and many of the surrounding pai'lia- 

into legislative rci)rescnt:!tioii in tireat ment;iry buildings ; and Turner pninted 

Brittiin. a picture of the tire. The old House of 

The new Westminster Palace stands Lords. — the walls of which were very 

ou the site of the old royal palace of thick ;ind strong, and underneath whicii 

the kings of England from Edward I. was the cellar where Guy Favvkes Latched 



EUROPE IX STORM AXP CALM. 



57.S 



tli<' Hoynl State Apn.rtmpnts, tlie House 
of fyoi'ds and the House of Coinnioiis, 
:in<l the <j,i\'at Central Hall. Enlight- 
ened liylhesad experience of the pre- 
vious hres, yiv IJirv endeavored to 

All the 



his (Gunpowder Plot, was taken down 
about 182.'i. Many of the other line 
rooms have disappeared, among them 
the Prince's chanilier. wliich was hung 
with tapestry representing scenes in the 

liabyhood of CJneen Khzabeth. At the make his building lire-proof. 
time of the fire of l.s;u 
the House of Lords oc- 
cupied the old Court of 
Requests, which was 
hung with tapestry rep- 
resenting the defeat of 
the Spanish Arniaila. 

This new Parliamen- 
tary- palace was begun 
on the jiTth of April. 
1840, from the designs 
of the architect Charles 
]5arry. who was selected 
outof ninety-seven com- 
petitors. Mr. Barry's 
plan has often been se- 
verely criticised ; Init he 
built with a view to tln' 
future, and although to- 
day his palace stands o|)- 
posite to unsightly rows 
of factory chimneys, and 
has but a little way from 
it some of the vilest 
slums of Euroiie, when 
the march of improve- 
ment goes up the 
Thames, the palace, with 
its noble twin, West- 
minster Abbey, shinds in 
no danger of being 
dwarfed l)y any structure 

which may be placed opposite or near it. bearers of the floor are cast iron, with 
The enormous iiile covers about eight brick arches from girder to girder. The 
acres, and has four principal fronts, the roofs are of wrought-iron cast around 
terrace on the Thames l>eing nearly one galvanized plates. The stone of the 
thousand feet long There are eleven widl is unfortunately beginning to decay, 
quadrangles or courts, and within the and commissions have reiieatedly been 
walls are live hundred apartments and a|ipoin!ed for discovering remedies for 
eighteen official residences, exclusive of hardening the walls. 




I.NTTERIOR or THE HOUSE OF COMMONS. 



574 EVROPK IN STORM AND CALM. 

TlK'iniiin features of the iialaee, which liy Westniiiister Hall. In the first thiys 

is <if the 'I'lidor style, witli here and of a |iarliaiiie]itaiy session this hall is 

there imitations of the picturesque town- fre(inently erowijed with peojile from all 

halls of the Fleinish cities, are the ( lock classes of the London i)oi)ulation, who 

Tower, at the northern end, which is like wait [latiently hours to sec the diffei'ent 

that ol' the lown-llousc at Brussels, and cclelirities pass in, and to cheer ami to 

the great Central Hall, uith a stone hoot them, as theii' inclin:ition may 

lantern and spire, 'i'hc Clock Tow er is prompt. Ou such (occasions the ludl is 

one ol' the Icaturcs of London ; it is lined on two sides with eiu;|]itic poll 

three hundred and sixteen feet from its men, formine a iim> Ihrouuli which the 
base to the to[i of the steeple. The deputies of the nation may safely |>ass 
clock has Ihc lar;.>est dials in the world, to tiieii' lahoi- ; and no matter how inl- 
and the minnte-hand is said to re(|nire, p.irtaut a place in the social scale a spec- 
on account of its great length, velocity, tator may have, if he does not obey the 
weight, friction, and the action of the injunctions of these policemen, he is liable 
wind upon it. twenty times more force to to be turned out neck and ciop. Mid- 
drive it than the hour-hand, which is nine way on the eastern side of Westmin- 
feet long. The mellow toni'S of tlie great ster Hall is the members" entrance to the 
bells of this tower sli'ikiug the quarters. House of C'onnnons. At the south end 
lialfs, and full hours, may be heard in a broad Might of steps leads up to St. 
nearly all the disti'icts of London, espe- Stephen's porch, and here is a noble 
eially at night; and as long as I'arlia- window, the stained glass of which 
ment is in session the lime light bnrnson represents the insignia of the different 
the tower's top. sovereigns. On the left there is an 

The Victoria Tower, three huudi'ed entrance into St. .Stephen's Hall, and 

and thirty-six feet high, is covered wdth the Central Hall, wdiich has an immense 

figures which, seen from the street, look span of stone (iothic roof, is just beyond, 
almost infantine. Imt which aie really ( )f course thei'e is a royal entrance to 

colossal figures, ten fi'et high. This Parliament, and this is from the N'ictoria 

tower was oiiginally intende<l as a re- Tower. A staircase leads to the Nor- 

pository for the state papers and records man porch, beautifully ornamented with 

of the inition, and is divided into eleven slatues of kings of the Norman line, and 

stories, each of which contains sixteen with frescoes re|)resenting scenes in 

tire-proof rooms. The loof of the tower Anglo-Norman history. ( )n the right is 

weighs four hundred t<.ius. At the portal the (.Queen's IJobing-room, and beyond is 

below are great statui's of the l.,ion of the royal gallery, where those foitn- 

Englauil, bearing the national lianner; nate (leople who are admitted to seethe 

ami here and there, in the carving, are (^neen open or prorogue I'arliament wait 

the royal arms of l<",ngland's former until the arrival of the procession, whii-h 

sovereigns. Here also are the statues of comes through St. dames's Park and 

the guardian saints, St. George, St. makes its entry through the Victoria <,r 

Andrew, and St. Patiick : and in a niche royal gallei-y into the House of Lords. 
in the archway over the royal stairs is The Hereditary chaml)er. which has 

the statue of the present CJueen. leccntly seen so mauy fiei'<-e attacks upon 

The public entrances to the Houses its very existence, and which bases i:s 

are by the St. Stei)hen's staircase, and claims to res[)ect chiefly n|ion its period 



FAIROPE IN ^rORM AXP CALM 



575 



of duration, like Tliomns Ihinly's vil- the oano|)ii'(l niches witli iiedestals sup- 
hiifur, of whom his connaik's said " He portedl>y augelsbeariiigsiiields.illiistrateil 
bu mighty aneieiU ; 
that be his chief 
quality," — sits in a 
chamber which is 
modern when com- 
pared even with the 
House of Kepresen- 
tatives in Washing- 
ton. It was only 
completed in 18G0, 
and .Sir Charles Bar- 
ry seems lather to 
have overdone the 
stained glass, the 
escutcheons, the uni- 
corns, uhe lions, tiie 
gilding, the poly- 
chrome coloring . 
Lord Redesdale is 
reported to have 
said that the House 
of Lords resembled 
the parlor of a casino. 
M. Pliiliiipe Daryl. 
in a spiteful moment, 
reniarlied that, on 
grand days, when 
the peeresses fill the 
gallery, iu their blue 
dresses, red flowers 
and fans, and pale- 
green feathers, the 
appearance is that 
of a Bohemian glass 
shop filled with por- 
celain. This spiteful 
saying exaggerates 
the somewhat glar- 
ing incongruities of 

color and of costume perceptil)le at an as- with the arms of the barons who won 
sembly of ranlv and fasiiion on the occasion Magna Charta from King.Tohn, tiie flatceil- 
of a speech from the throne. The tliree ing with its royal monograms and its heral- 
great archways with their wall frescoes, die devices, the walls covered with oaken 




DYNAMITE EXPLOSIONS AT THE 
IN LONDON. 



HOUSE OF COMMONS 



n ( () 



KVROVE IS STdint AMI CALM. 



|i;iii('llinti;.s ;iu(l Ijiists ol' the sovcivigiis of 
Eiii;laii(l, the galk'i'ics witli red metal 
railings, the great throne at the tsoutii 
end eovered with its jiretty searlet eai-pet 
])ordered with wliite rows of lions, and 
fringed with gold eolors, the Peers' Loljhy 
and the Lil)rar_y, a su))erb I'ange of 
rooms. aM<l the deeoratlons of the eor- 
lidors whieli lead to the Central Hall 
and thi'iiee to St. Stephen's, and so to 
the Westminster Hall entrance, — are 
all imposing lint seareely harmonious. 

The throiii' is of eonrse the chief feat- 
nre of the House of Lonls, and is al- 
ways sainted by a peerni)on his entrance 
as a kind of concession to royalty's 
omnipresence. There are three divisions 
of the throned caiioin . On the central 
one the Queen takes her seat ; on the 
right, the Prince of Wales; and the left 
has been vacant since the death of the 
Prince Consort. It would recjuire pages 
to describe the decorations of the chairs 
of state, and the stan<lai-ds, the crests, 
the shields, the pedestals, the coronal 
pendants, and the shafts surmounted by 
crowns. The peers have seats on benches 
covered with red morocco leather, which 
extend around three sides of the central 
table. Behind these Ijenehes are galler- 
ies for the wives and daughters of peers, 
for the press, and for spectators who are 
i;ivited. Tiieiv are seats for only two 
luuidri'd and thirty-five [leers, altliough 
th<'ic are more than double that numlier 
in the House of Lords; liut the sitting- 
space is never cro.vded. '• It is rare," 
says IMr. Kscott in his " England." " to 
find more than a third of the sittings of 
the Housi' of Loi'ds occupied. There is 
no need for memliers. as in the House of 
Commons, to come down a couple of 
hours before the business of the day 
begins and besiieak [ilaces for themselves 
by atlixing a card." 

Another quotation from Jlr. Escott's 
able woi'k will give us a capital notion 



of the House of Lord> as it ap|)ears to 
the comi)reheusion of a cultured Eng- 
lishman : " It is not only in tlie res[)eets 
of sumptuous oriianifutatiou, the [jres- 
ence of ladies full in the sight of as- 
sembled legislators, that the interior of 
the House of Lords presents such a con- 
trast to the House of Commons. There 
is an air of agreeable ulinndon in the 
mien and behavior of their lordships. 
'I'iie countenances of the memliers of the 
House of Commons have, for the most 
part, the look of anxiety or i)reoccu|ia- 
tion. They enter their chamber like 
men o|)pressed witii the conscious- 
ness of responsibility, burdened by a 
despotism of immutable laws and rigid 
etic|uette. There is nothing of the 
sort in the House of Lords, no painful 
exidence of the thraldom of cere- 
monial rules or customs, or of the ruth- 
less sacrifice of pleasure to duty. The 
whole atmosphere is redolent of well- 
lired noncludance and aristocratic re- 
pose. For instance, there is in theory a 
Speaker of the House of Lords, called, 
though he always is, the Chancellor, 
just as there is a Siieaker of the House 
of Commons; liut the functions of the 
two arc separated by a gulf which is 
conclusive as to tiie difference of their 
I'elative positions, and also as to the spirit 
in which the liusiness of the two Houses 
is conducted. The Speaker of the House 
of Commons is something more than 
jiriiinis inter paret:. For the time lieing 
he is ri-garded as of a nature ditferent 
fi'om and superior to the honoi'able 
gentlemen liy whom he is snirounded. 
Though theri' is nothilig which the House 
of Conniions likes better than a |iersor,al 
eni-ounter, or a vituperative duel lietween 
any two members, there is nothing 
approaching to disrespect of the gentle- 
man who is the lirst conimoiur in 
England, the custodian and embodiment 
of its privileges, that it will tolerate. 



EUROPE /.V STORM AXD CALM. 



517 



The Speaker of the House of C"oniino;is 
is, ill fact, the commissioncr-in-chief of 
the privileges and prerogatives of the 
House of Commons, whom the House 
has accorded to make the depositary of 
its ceremonial iiiterests. To 
the Lord Chancellor no such 
trust has been delivered. The 
peers are a self-governed bod}', 
the preservers of tiieirown or- 
der, and the protectors of their 
own privileges. Though the 
keeper ofthe Queen's conscience 
may sit enthroned in majesty on 
the wool-sack, he is not fenced 
round by a divinity sufficient to 
deter noble lords from lounging 
indolently at half-length upon 
its well-padded sides. Save for 
the dignity of his garb the Chan- 
cellor might be nothing more 
than a Chancellor of the Court. 
Unlike the Speaker in the House 
of Commons his loiclship docs 
not decide who shall have prior- 
ity. When more than one peer 
rises their lordships keep order 
for themselves. The Chancel- 
lor has not even a casting vote 
when the numbers in adivisii'U 
are equal, and his only strictly 
presidential duty is to ])ut the 
question, and read the titles of 
measures. On the other hand 
he is the diiectrepresentativeof royalty on 
all occasions when the sovereign communi- 
cates with Parliament, and he is the repre- 
sentative official mouth-pieeeof the House 
of Peers when they hold intercourse with 
public bodies or individuals outside." 

AVhen the Lord Chancellor takes his 
seat, which is shortly after four o'clock, 
he wears a red robe and an ermine 
mantle, a tremendous wig, and three- 
cornered hat. At his feet are seated 
clerks iu magisterial robes, and on the 
riglit of the wool-sack is another clerk, 



whose duty is to keep a list of those 
present. Private bills are first con- 
sidered, the stranger gaining nothing 
from the mumbling formula that the 
Chancellor reads, except that the "Con- 




.Iiill.s DiaUIIT. 
From rhulograph by Elliott & Fry, London. 

tents " have it ; and then business pro- 
ceeds very much in the same onler as in 
the House of Commons, with the ex- 
ceptions above noted iu the paragraph 
from IMr. Escott's volume. The Minis- 
terial Whip, or whipper-in, or, to be more 
explicit, the able gentleman who makes 
it liis Imsiuess to see that members are 
on hand for party piu'poses at the 
(iroper moments, is as prominent a 
feature of the House of Lords as of the 
Lower House. The spiritual peers, the 
bishops, and the gathering of I'livy 



578 



EUROPE jy STORM A.\D CALM. 



C'omirillors and sons of jjcers in the 
spac-e in the Strangers' Gallery are feat- 
ures wliieli will strike an American as 
very odd and curious. In the Lower 
House forty is a quoi-uni ; in the Upper 
House, three. In the Lowei' House par- 
ticular notice is requiri'd for tlie asking 
of questions of minister.s, and the rule 
is very rigid ; but in the Upper House 
members of the Opposition embarrass 
the government with as many questions 
as they like. What is the use of 
privileges unless one can employ 
them? So think the noble loi'ds who 
disdain the rigidity of the Commons. 
Nowadays the taking of a division in 
the House of Lords i.s very similar to 
that in theC'onnuons. The "Contents," 
as the "Ayes" are called, go down into 
the right lobby, an<l the "Non-Contents," 
— the "Noes," — into the left lobby ; and, 
as they return, their votes are counted 
and announced to the Lord Chancellor. 
A striking characteristic <jf the Eng- 
lish rarliament, and one wliich lenders 
it totally different from tiiat of most 
legislative bodies, is tlie calmness and 
the gravity with wliich issues of the 
most tremendous imiiortance are dis- 
cussed in the Upiicr House. The self- 
conlidenee and poise are founded upon 
the long possession of great fortunes, 
each member who rises to discuss tlie 
issue feeling somehow convinced that, 
whatever happens to the world at large, 
or to the liritish Empire, lir will enjoy 
ease and comfort to the end of liis days. 
This is not the feeling of a mciiiber of 
the French Senate or the French Cliani- 
ber of Deputies, nor of the German 
|)arliamentary bodies, nor of any conti- 
nental assemblies for deliberative pni- 
poses. When the noble lords enter into 
a discussion of the reform of the temne 
of landed property in Great Britain they 
will perhajis appreciate the lack <if calm- 
ness sometimes perceptible in continental 



legislative bodies. They have already 
had a foretaste of wliat they may exi)eet 
in the heated and animated si>eeehes of 
some of their memliers on the tjuestions 
of the extension of the franchise and 
tlie redistril)iition. In both Houses there 
is a tendency to attack discussion of 
even the most vital crisis in the slow, 
formal, and elaborate manner which 
never ceases to surprise the stranger, no 
matter how many times he may have 
assisted at the lieginning of such a dis- 
cussion. England op|ioses what might 
parado.xically be called the force of her 
inertia against the immediate settlement 
of pressing questions ; and she does it 
with great effect. Go liaek to l.SOT, 
and you will lind that Parliament had 
just finished the slow and steady discus- 
sion and adoption of the Reform Hill. 
(,T(j forward to IMS}, and you will lind 
Parliament slowly and steadily adoiiting 
the extension of the franchise with 
almost the same forms, the same men, 
with slight exceptions, and tlie enormous 
slowness noticeable half a generation 
ago. Mr. P>rig]it is in the same hall, on 
the same platform, at I>irmiiigham. He 
lights the same battle, but it is on a 
slo|ie still further advanced. There has 
been progress, but it Las been a thin red 
line steadfastly, unwaveringly advanc- 
ing, without fuss or confusion, without 
cheers or excitement ; progress which 
the nation is content to have slow, be- 
cause it feels it sure. The nation is 
anxious that inicjuities and injustice 
abroad should be crushed or thrown 
aside at lightning speed ; but at home it 
is willing to wait, ready to adojit com- 
promises, make sacrifices, everything in 
favor of the gO(jd old motto ^'- Ffstinn 
leiitc." Nothing surprises Parliament. 
It is a cynical, hlane liody, willing 
enough to engage in a contest, but de- 
termined not to be shaken out of its 
priiniti\e and abiding calm. 



EUROPE IN HTUHM AXD CALM. 



r.7i> 



CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE. 



The Irish Members. — The House of Commons. — The Speaker. — The Peers and the Creation of New 
Peers — The Passion for tlie Possession of Land. — An Active Session. — Prueetlure. — Bringing 
In Bills. 



THE Irish Question does not .ilarm 
tlie British ]';uli;inii'Mt. Go liack 
to 1 807, and you will linil tho govuinuient 
passing a bill for suspending Habeas 
Corpus in Ireland. You will read long 
debates on pertuibed affairs in the sister 
island. Go forward to 188 1 , 1882, 1883, 
and 1884, the same discussions are re- 
opened, the same rigorous measures of 
coercion are ai)plied, the same dogged 
determination is manifest ; yet progress 
has been made ; concessions where not 
unreasonable have been accorded. Go 
back again to 1807, you will find Parlia- 
ment discussing the question of an ex- 
pedition of Aliyssinia. Go forward again 
to the last twelve months, and you will 
find the Committee of Supply discussing 
the credits of an expedition to the Sou- 
dan. The same programme of the asser- 
tion of the national strength, of pushing 
forward the national trade, of increasing 
the circle of the British Empire's influ- 
ence, has been steadily pursued during 
the half generation with but little inter- 
ruption because of the nps and downs of 
ministries, with, on the whole, but few 
approaches to danger. The total lack 
of the dramatic faculty in the mass of 
English politicians is noticeable to any 
one who has long lived among Continen- 
tal people. M. Daryl puts down in his 
note-l)0(>k on the occasion of his first 
visit to the lobby of the House of Com- 
mons, that '"no one assumes an air of 
importance, no one rushes away with 
frenzied air, as if about to comuninieate 



news of the utmost consequence : in short, 
there are no poseurs in English [lolitics 
as there are none in English literature or 
in English art." The Rt. Hon. gentleman 
who comes down in evening dress, re- 
freshed by his frugal dinner, to the 
House of Commons, and who with a 
flower in his button-hole sits listening to 
the lengthy platitudes of some countiy 
members, betrays but small impatience 
when he rises to respond to some silly ac- 
cusation or groundless criticism. Prime 
Ministers in England accept with meek- 
ness a vast amount of flummery and the 
infinity of useless questions to which 
they are sul)jected. But when they at- 
tack the business on hand, whether it be 
the extension of the franchise or the rec- 
tification of a frontier, they state the 
case with extreme plainness, rarely with 
any flowers of rhetoric, although Lord 
Beacousfield sometimes remembered his 
ancient floridness of metaphor in his later 
speeches. Nothing can be more strik- 
ing than the plainness with which orators 
like Mr. Gladstone and Mr. Bright ex- 
press their ideas. There is elegance in 
tone and inflection and in look, but none 
of the passionate or flowery^ utterances 
of a Gambetta or a Castelar. The chil- 
dren of the north, while the}' a|)pre- 
ciate eloquence, set it coolly aside in 
their own discussions and statements in 
Parliament. A hero is praised, but not 
in exaggerated terms. There is a sense 
of the dignity of the jilace and the occa- 
sion always noticeable in speeches of 



580 EUROPE IN STORM AXf) PALM. 

Pai'liainciit cxoeiit in tliDsc tluit an ex- linii studios called •' The Point of ^'iew," 
eited Irisli iiieniln'r, a nolile nuiriiuis, nitdves an Aniericau citizen, wearied with 
or a piping little lord may indiilne in, — Eur()|)e's petty divisions and formulas, 
language wiiicli tlicy afterwanls regret, indulge in some pleasantries at tiie es- 
jnst as Mr. Clianiherlaiu sometimes takes pense of the liritish House of Commons, 
the bit in his teeth, and wishes he had which is discussing at great length the 
not later on. Hut within tlie walls of Hares-and-Rahhits Hill, the Deceased 
"Westminster Palace decorum of speech, "Wife's Sister's Bill, the Burials Bill, 
if not always of actiim, is tlie rule. In and other things which, he adds, are of 
the face of .such an issue as that aliout to such intinitesimal importance. There 
lie decided in Central Asia, where two are indeed seasons when the British 
opposing forces seem with resistless Parliament seems to confine its atten- 
attraction approaching each other for a tion to matters better fitting the eon- 
linal and dcs|ierate crash, the English sideration of a town council or a body 
Piime INIinister, although rc'alizing that of " selectmen," as we say in New Eng- 
liis miuistrv for tlic moment docs not lan<l ; liut there arc also long periods 
stantl u[ion a secure foundation, states dm'ing which every evening, uhen I'ar- 
with utmost cahnness, and with ex- liament sits, is occupied with questions 
cceding brevity just exactly wliat Eng- of far-rearhing inllncnce, and the greatest 
land is prepared to do. In France he gravity, and to pore over the verbatim 
would exi)ect to be talked about in tlie reports of last nigiit's session in the 
news[Kipers for a week after tliis declara- '-Times" is enough to convince one that a 
tion. Enthusiastic reporters would de- conscientious member of Parliament 
scribe his attitude, liis dress, and his must study the history of the whole uni- 
gestiu'cs when he made an iuiporlant verse. He knows more about the Antip- 
statement. ( )ld anecdotes would be odes than he knows about White 
furbishecl u\> and uiaile to do duty anew. Chajiel, and he hears more talk of the 
In England lie goes home quietly at Mauritius, the Bermudas, the Afghan 
three in the morning, after an exhaust- frontiers, and theUpi^er Niger, thanof the 
ive night, to his official residence, and pollution of the Thames, or the rebuild- 
nothing is said about his i)ersonality in ing of Soho, or the condition (_)f the 
the morning papers. When, as in recent p(H)r in Liverpool ; in short, the Parlia- 
times, the ebidlition of a certain small ment is Imperial tirst and local after- 
party, like the Irish memljers in the wards. It does not occur to the Ameri- 
Ilouse of Commons, causes a conflict can mind that England is an Empire 
and a necessity for answer to swiftly until one gets into Parliament, and hears 
given and generally otlious accusations, the constant reiietition of Inqicrial and 
the calmness of the ^Ministry seems to of Empire 

increase rather than to diminish, and It is difficult to reconcile the [ire- 

the imperturbability of the Speaker is dictions of Radical gentlemen that the 

beyond reproach. Mr. CUadstone has House of Lords will some day thwart 

latterly lent his iulluence willi a grim the will of the people, and will then be 

good-humor to enforce the closure, swei>t avvav, witii the continuous t'l'cation 

which is reciignized as an heroic renu'<ly of peers bv cabinets heade<l liy illus- 

agaiust the delay of i)ublie business. trious commoners like Mr. Gladstone 

Mr. Henry James, in one of his spark- himself. The creation of these peers is 



EUROrE IN STORM AND CALM. 



581 



set down as one of the necessities of 
politieiil life : and it is accepted as per- 
fectly natural that a great orator or a 
plutocrat, who has gathered to himself 
ample acres, should sit in the body to 
which belong the princes of the blood 
royal, all the dukes, marquises, earls, 
viscounts, and barons of the realm. A 
peer is made out of an orator who is 
needed in the I louse of Lords, as was the 
case with Lord Derby. The Gladstone 
ministry has created sixteen peerages in 
three years ; the preceding ministry made 
forty-three peers in six years, and of 
their numbei-s was Mr. Disraeli, elevated 
to the title of Lord Beaconsfield. The 
Gladstone Cabinet, before that, made 
thirty-six peers in five years, and one 
peei'ess, the Bnroness Burdett-Coutts. 
Lord Beaconsfield himself said, in one 
of his early novels, that the English 
peerage was due to three sources, — the 
spoliation of the Church, the open and 
flagrant sale of its honors by the elder 
Stuart, and the boroughmongering of our 
own times. " These," he added, " are 
the three main sources of the existing 
peerages, and, in my opinion, disgraceful 
ones." IMr. Disraeli used his scornful 
phrase before successive Reform liills had 
made Parliament a cleanlier Ijody than 
of old. "But it is still true," says an 
able Radical writer, " that the exercise 
of electoral influence is the surest road 
to the House of Lords." This same writer 
says : " When the Tories were in office, 
in 1866, several peers were created who 
owe their titles to political partisanship, 
and, from 1874 to 1880, the large-acred 
Tories h;id a rare time of it, while 
superannuated or incompetent colleagues 
of the minister were elevated into the 
House of Lords when offices could not 
be found for them. For nearly forty 
years Sir John Parkington sat for 
what was once tlie pocket-borough of 



Durham. In 1874 the people of Dur- 
ham asserted their independence and 
rejected Sir John. He was at once 
created Lord Hampton. Colonel Wilson 
Pallen, another old colleague, had to be 
provided for, so he was created Lord 
Wilmarleigh. The Orrasby Gores had 
done much for the Tories in Shropshire 
and other counties, and the late Loi-d 
Harlech had his reward in his elevation 
to the Upper House, in 1876. Mr. 
John ToUemache had long served the 
Tories in Chesliire and Suffolk ; he had 
his reward the same year by being created 
Lord ToUemache. Sir. Gerard had helped 
to score for Lancaster ; he became Lord 
Gerard. Mr. Hilton Jolitfe, whose seat for 
Wells was abolished by the last Reform 
Bill, was consoled with the title of Lord 
Hyltou. Sir Charles Addeiley retired 
from the ministry and became Lord Nor- 
ton. ISIr. Disraeli became Earl of Bea- 
consfield ; Lord Cairns became Earl 
Cairns ; and Mr. Gathorue-I lardy became 
Viscount Cranbrook." This same writer 
makes the assertion that, since the acces- 
sion of the House of Hnnover. a very 
large portion of the modern aristocracy, 
probably one-half, owe one or more titles 
to the exercise of electoral intimidation. 
But whatever influence the House of 
Lords may be disposed to exercise is 
more than neutralized liv the constant 
and deliberate attempts of the Mouse of 
Commons to bring up the lalioriiig classes 
to a position where they can defend 
their rights, and to actually place their 
rights in their own hands, as has lieeii 
done in the case of the agricultural 
laborers by the passage of the recent 
Franchise Bill. 

The passion for the possession of land 
by men who have accumulated nuich 
wealth in England sur[)asses all other 
passions. For a long time to come, des- 
pite the agrarian agitation, the owner- 



58i 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALAf. 



shi]) of huiil will he the basis of power 
and influence and the steppinij-stone to 
a lixed i)laee aniono' the nobility. It is 
said that, out <.>f one y;reat nianufaeturing 
establishment iu .South Wales two peur- 
a<res and a baronetcy have iteen pro- 
dut'ed durin>>- the i)resent century. This 
was brought about by the alisoriition of 
all the land in the neighborhood by the 
wealth of the Welsh iron-masters. A 
Mr. Loyd, who went up to London own- 
ing no acres at all, leaves as his suc- 
cessor a sou owning more than thirty 
thousand acres of lanil ii] eleven different 
counties, and a seat in the House of 
Lords. The law and the aimy fui'uish 
from time to time able recruits to the 
Upper Ibinse ; and there are also what 
are called the Civil Service peerages. 
There distinguished servants of the 
Ci'own are jil'iced to give the country the 
advantage of their experience, legal and 
general. Since li-i,")'.) tlie House of Lords 
has had added to its ranks L(^i'ds Raglan, 
Clyde. iStrathearn, .Sandhurst, Nai)ier, 
]\L\gdala, Airey, Wolseley. and Aleester. 
Historians, poets, and noxelists, and 
such small-beer, rarely reach the House 
of Lords, unless they are also im[)ortant 
wire-pullers and distinguished [loliti- 
cians. 

The House of Connnous in the midst 
of an active session looks like a modern 
chapel which has been taken possession 
of l>y a genteel company of practical 
men who feel somewhat out of place. 
]f the great House of Representatives 
in AVashington, with its noise, its sudden 
darting to and fro of pages, the chqjping 
of hiinds, and the buzz of voices from 
the galleries, is confusing to the sti'Miiger, 
the British House of Connuons is simply 
bewildering. Ushered tln'ougli the brill- 
iant lobliy into one of the dark galler- 
ies, the \ isitor looks clown upon a small 
and compact hall with its tui'lvi' side 



windows painted with the arms of the 
boroughs, with the green glass compart- 
ments in its ceiling, tinted with floreated 
circles, and with its floor of perforated 
cast-iron. '• It is impossible," says 
Mr. Timbs in his " Curiosities of Lon- 
don," " to burn the House down. You 
might set tire to and destroy the furni- 
ture and fittings, but the flooring, walls, 
and roof would remain intact." Mr. 
Timbs did not think of dynamite ; even 
that, as we have recently seen, can do 
lint comparatively slight damage. On 
three sides of the House are galleries for 
members and strangers, the six hundred 
and fifty odd M.P.s having scarcely 
three hundred seats around the table, 
upon which lie the papers and docu- 
ments, and just behind which, at the 
head of the room, Mr. Speaker is en- 
throned upon a kind of Gothic chair on 
a platform. The reporters are huddled 
into a small gallery over the Speaker's 
chair, and al.iove them is a little cage, out 
of which the ladies are allowed to look, 
as Oriental dames peer through the mys- 
terious lattices of Turkish towns. At 
the north end of the House is the Bar, 
and there sits the Sergeant-at-Arms, a 
terrible and imi>ortant functionary. On 
the Speaker's right, on the front bench, 
sit the ministers ; on the left front bench, 
the leaders of the Oiiposition, the Ins 
fronting the Outs so closely that even a 
whisper can be heard. Below the .Speak- 
er's chair stands the Clerk's table, on 
which lies the Speaker's mace while the 
session is in progress ; and on either 
side of the House I'uns the lobby, into 
which, at a division, the members pass, 
the " Ayes " to the west, the " Noes" to 
the east. This has lieen the home of 
the Lower House of Parliament since 
IS.Vi. and here the second and third 
stages of ))arliamentary reform have 
been originated and pushed through. 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



583 



The procedure in the House of Com- 
mons is simple enough, ))iit too long 
for detailed description here. " The 
House," says Mr. Escott, "is at once 
a mirror and ei)itonie of the national 
life. There is no rumor of any sdit, 
social, connnercial, dii)loinatic, or [loliti- 
cal, which does not make its way into the 
lobby of the House." "Before the 
House," says Mr. Palgi-ave, "passes 
yeaily every national anxiety." In the 
Mouse of Commons originates the taxa- 
tion of tiie realm, and there also arc 
born most of the bills which directly 
affect home politics. A member of Par- 
liament gets no compensation for his 
services, and the unhappy men who 
try to follow their regular professions 
and keep pace with political life very 
often break down under the strain, or 
are compelled to neglect their private 
interest, and thus to travel on the verge of 
ruin. A conscientious memlier of Parlia- 
ment has to work in committee in the 
morning, and if he does not go to secure 
one of the three hundred regular seats, or 
a coigne of vantage in the memliers' gal- 
lery while the ciiaplain is saying prayers 
at four o'cliick at each session, even if he 
only Climes in after dinnei', he will find 
his strength all taken by the long ses- 
sion, which on several days in the week 
does not close before two and three in 
tiie morning. The scene in the Com- 
mons, with these politicians of the three 
kingdoms, some lounging, some sitting 
erect in correct morning or in faultless 
evening dress, and every one, excepting 
the j)erson who happens to be speaking, 
with Jiis iiat jannned over his eyes, is 
ra^ther amusing. The daily programme 
is usually the same. Before the dinner 
hour, which grows later every year in 
London, petitions and private liills are 
in order. If an imiiortant debate is 
expected, after dinner, members Hock 



down from the chilis and from tiieir 
houses, and by placing a card in tiie 
In'ass rack on a seat, or leaving papers 
or gloves, they secure a good place for 
the evening's work. The presentation 
of petitions is simple in the extreme, and 
is often merely the inscription of the 
subject and its origin, says Mr. Escott, 
on a piece of paper, sent to the report- 
ers' gallery. There are, however, official 
1 looks on the table in front of the Speak- 
er's chair for the reception of tiiese 
important documents. A memlier who 
wishes to be tr<inblesome can have the 
petition read out at length by one of the 
clerks at the table. Next come notices of 
motions relative to questions, resolutions, 
or bills ; and these motions illustrate in 
the amplest manner the inconvenience of 
having a rcs[)oiisible ministry that sits 
in either House. The time and patience 
wasted over these absolutely formal and 
generally useless questions it is impossible 
to estimate. As there are always more 
motions than can be handled readily, 
members have to ballot for days on 
which they may present their motions ; 
and many bores are thus eliminated. 
Tuesdays and Fridays are for motions, 
Mondays and Tiinrsdavs are govern- 
ment nights, Wednesday is open for liills 
only, not for inotions ; luit on this day 
Parliament rises before dinner and does 
not sit again in the evening. 

The bringing in of bills and carrying 
them through their different stages to 
the royal assent, which makes them Acts 
of Parliament, is attended with numer- 
ous formulas, which come from the old 
Norman procedure. When a liill having 
[lassed through the various stages in the 
Commons is sent up to the Lords, the 
clerk of the Commons indorses on it 
" iS'o/ hii'dVi aux seigtiPtirs ; " and a bill 
sent down from the Lords to the Com- 
mons is indorsed in the same wav. AVIieu 



584 



EUROPE LV STORM AXD CALM. 



a bill has passed through both Houses, 
and Majesty has given its consent in 
person to its being made law, if it be 
•a bill of supply, the Clerk reads forth the 
French i)hr:ise : " La UeicjtiP remercie 
scN hoii^ mijets, (iccf-pti'ut Iriir hihii'milence, 
et. aiiisi. ic veult." To other pnl)lic liills 
the form of assent is, " La Bci'jite U' 
rciill:" to private bills, " .S'of fait 
coiiiinr il I'st (/(\s(/-('." But in rare in- 



stances, where the Royal assent is re- 
fused to a bill, the Clerk says, "X« 
Ri'Ifjne t:' a viae /•((." (The Queen will 
think about it.) All private and per- 
sonal bills are passed upon petitions, 
and lUMuy of them have to be advertised 
in newspapers, especially if there is any 
interference proposed with land or with 
other property. 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



585 



CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX. 



The Treasury Whip. — Pailiamentsiry Forms. — Oddities of tlic House of Commons. — Authority of tlie 
Spcal<er. — The Home Rule Members. • — Irislimeu ia London. — .Vnomalics of Enj^lisli Represen- 
tation. — "Reform." — Tlie Reconstruction of London's Municipal Government. 



THE Treasury Whip, or tlie party 
agent who atti iids to the as- 
sembling of tlie iiiajdrity for tlie goverii- 
nieut (luring any iiniiortant debate, is 
more active and indispensalile in the 
House of Commons than in the House 
of Loids. He has an office hard by the 
Parliament, whence he can send forth 
lithographed notices by scores, whipping 
into the ranks the deserters and neg- 
ligent ; and in many cases he sends 
despatches liundreds, even thousands of 
miles. A prominent member of Parlia- 
ment will travel from Nice or Naples at 
the summons of the Whip without com- 
plaining, and it is amusing to notice the 
precipitation with which active members 
bolt tlieir dinners at the clnl) ami depart 
from the comfortable bachelor [lalaces in 
the gustiest and inuildiest of weather so 
soon as tlie summons is heard. After 
a great discussion, when the issue is to 
be decided by a division, the lobbies of 
the House of Commons seem like the 
ante-chambers of a palace on fire. 
People are rushing to and fro, some to 
summon, others to answer summons. 
The legislators of the Kingdom muster 
as obediently as school children under 
the Peers' gallerj-, and then divide to 
right and left into their respective lob- 
bies, after which tlie door-keepers in- 
dulge in an exploration in the hall and 
even look under the benches to see if 
any member has forgotten his duty. 
Back again come the voters, sometimes 
with the tumult of triumph manifest, but 



only on occasions when the issue is 
national. The dignity of tlie House is 
rarely startled out of its etiuilibrium, al- 
though in recent yea-s, nnder the vexa- 
tions of the Home Rule ptirty, and the 
strong and sweeping accusations made in 
the heat of the struggle for direction of 
the foreign policy or for the franchise bill, 
there have been wrangles and disputes 
quite as singular and as much to be de|)- 
reeated ;is those which often occur in 
legislative chambers in Latin countries. 
But those who wish an elaborate des- 
cri[)tion of the procedure in the House 
of Commons, will find it in Mr. Escott's 
excellent book, already referred to, or 
in many a compendium of Parliamentary 
law. Tlie House is full of formulas 
handed down from generations when 
monarchy was by no means so limited as 
it is to-day in its prerogatives, the 
manner of going into committee, by 
replacing the Speaker for the time being 
by the Chairman of the ways and means 
being one of the most interesting of 
these survivals. It comes, Mr. Escott 
tells us, from the old days of the Tudor 
and the Stuart despotism. The Speaker's 
motion " That I do now leave this 
chair " is based upon the old exclusion 
of the King's emissary and spy, their 
speaker, whom the Commons did not 
choose to have in their midst when they 
were engaged in important committee 
work. The presence of the ministry in 
Parliament, the acceptance or rejection 
by the government of clauses and 



58(3 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



aiuendiiK'iits in liills, the constant derla- 
ratious of the (iovernment's policy, and 
,the lengthy and evasive speeches of the 
Premier or of his right-hand man, when 
the Jliaistry desires not to commit itself, 
— all these are strange, and striking to 
the stranger, but seem perfectly natural, 
and the only proper way to the English 
mind. In fact, nothing can exceed the 
rigidity of the English belief that things 
are done in England as they should be 
done, and that foreign ways, if they dif- 
fer from English ways, must necessarily 
be erroneous. 

One of the oddities of the House of 
Connnons is that the Speaker caimot 
leave his chair for the evening until the 
adjournment is formally moved, and if 
Mr. Biggar, or other of the enemies of 
the present Speaker, could manage to [)re- 
vent the moving of adjournment until 
all the members had left, the Speaker 
would stand an excellent chance of re- 
maining in his place all night. It is 
recorded tliat the House was once 
deserted save by the Speaker himself, 
who had to sit on and on until a mem- 
ber of Parliament should be hunted up, 
and brought in to make the necessary 
motion. Mr. Escott tell ns that when 
tlie Honse session is closed for the 
night, the Speaker, " rising from his 
chair, liows to the Secretary of the 
Treasury, who acts as his a<ljutant, and 
who returns obeisance. Immediately 
after tills is audiliie the cry of ' Who 
goes home?' a relic of those times when 
members of Parliament used to make ufi 
parties for tlu' homeward joni'ney to 
[irotect themselves against the attacks of 
highwaymen. The police in the lobbies, 
however, do not echo this shout, but 
simi)ly announce that ' House is up.' " 

The authority of the Speaker has been 
nnicii more ilcfiiiite and [ironounced since 
IbSl, at whicli period the small but com- 



pact Irish party undertook the obstruc- 
tion of public luisiness by a cami)aigi) 
such as only the Celtic mind, with its 
whimsical love of fun, and it.s ingenuity 
when lieut on annoyance, could devise. 
The ado|ition of the closure, bor- 
rowed from French parliamentary prac- 
tice, was nuicli criticised wheu first 
brought inU) operation ; but it has on 
the whole worked well. It must be 
conceded that a parliamentary body has 
the right to force a decision as to the 
closing of a discussion which is sterile 
and profitless, when (nililic Imsiness is 
delayed and pressing. The Irish rejoin- 
der to this is of course that all is fair in 
war, in anything which hinders the 
action of I]ngland, and, furthermore, tiiat 
Old Ireland will not get her rights unless 
she insists ui)on thrusting them on the 
public view at any and all hours. Frosty 
and well-bred Mr. Parnell, witli his 
keen incisive way of speaking, his 
polished manners, and his imiterturbable 
temper, is now and then somewhat 
embarrassed liy the action of the more 
impulsive members of the Irish groui), 
some of whom would, if they dared, dance 
a jig on the Speaker's table, and play leap- 
frog over the venerable Premier's shoul- 
ders, if they thought that liy so doing they 
could cause a check in the management 
of public affairs. It is noteworthy that 
when an Irish member has something 
definite to say, and says it in a manly 
and straightforward fashion, he is almost 
always listened to, if not with symjiathy, 
at least with courtes}', and the pi'esent 
Premier is extremely painstaking in his 
responses even to the yoiuigest of the 
boisterous com[)any. Several very young 
men have been returnee] to the Home 
Pule Party in Parliament, and among 
them is a son of the famous novelist and 
essayist, Justin BlcC'arthy, and T. P. 
O'Connor, who possesses real eloqueuce, 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



587 



and who, although he wrote a bitter and 
savage book on Lord Beaconsfield, 
actually possessed the good-will and 
possibly the admiration of Disraeli until 
his latest day. The loyal Irishmen, 
those who do not atliliate with the Sepa- 
ratists and Home Riders, are as fire- 
brands to their noisier and more patriotic 
brethren, who never fail to engage in a 
contest which perhaps has been merely 
hinted at in some very mild remarks. 
Many of the young Irish members find 
their parliamentary laurels rather diffi- 
cult to wear. In London they are en- 
vironed with au atmosphere of dislike 
whieli no sensitive man can long endure 
without feeling resentment and allowing 
it to warp his judgment ; and, further- 
more, as they have no compensation and 
little time for professional work of any 
sort, they accumulate obligations more 
pressing than those which they have 
towards their constituencies. 

The Home Rule members of the Irish 
representation in Parliament are twenty 
in number, and it is to an American 
curious to note the small number of 
electors in comparison with the popula- 
tions of the districts by which they were 
placed in office. But a little more than 
five thousand electors voted to put John 
Deasy and Mr. Paruell in Parliament as 
the representatives of Cork, which has 
one hundred tliousand inhaliitants. I5ut, 
in considering the uumlier of electors, 
we liave to remember that large numbers 
of electors in Ireland were permanently 
disfranchised as a condition of Catholic 
emancipation, and that it took the peers 
until 1850 to decide that it was safe to 
allow the Irish suffrage to be lowered to 
a £12 rental, which has been retained at 
this figure ever since that time ; and not 
later than 1883 a bill for the assimila- 
tion of Irisli to English electoral rights 
was llmjwii out. It is also true that 



Irish voters are compelled to appear in 
person if objected to at the revision 
courts, and there is a system of legalized 
conspiracies for disfranchising objections, 
similar to those which were kept up l)y 
the action of the House of Lords and 
its confederates in Great Britain until 
public opinion swept them away. Mr. 
Justin McCarthy was returned from 
Athlone, which has six thousand nine 
hundred inhabitants, by three hundred 
aud sixty-five electors ; Mr. Dawson, 
from Carlow, with seven thousand inhab- 
itants, liy three hundred and eight elect- 
ors ; Mr. Moore, from Clonmel, which 
has ten thousand poi)ulation, l)y four 
hundred and thirty-four voters ; Mr. 
O'Donnell, from Dungarvan, by three 
hundred and ten electors, out of seven 
thousand population ; Mr. Kenny, from 
Ennis ; Mr. Laver, and Mr. T. P. O'Con- 
nor, the last two from Galway, which has 
nearly nineteen thousand inliabitants, 
by one thousand one hundred and twenty- 
four electors ; Mr. kSmythwick, from Kil- 
kenny, Mr. Collins, from Kinsale, and 
The O'Donoghne and Messrs. Mac- 
Mahon, Gabbitt, O'Brien, Redmond 
Power, Leamy, W. II. Redmond, and 
Sir John McKenna, by electors in about 
the same proportion as the others. 

The English representation in the Par- 
liament of Great Britain is divided into 
that from cities, boroughs, and districts, 
and that from counties and di\isious ; 
and in the last session of Parliament 
one hundred and seventy-nine cities, 
boroughs, Inirghs, aud districts, possess- 
ing an aggregate poiiulation of three 
million two hundred aud eiglity tliousand 
three hundred and thirty-eight, and sub- 
mitting to aggregate assessments of 
S(jmothiug like £38,000,000, had in Par- 
liament two hundred and thiity meni- 
Iiers, who were returned liy four hun- 
dred fortv-tbree thousand six hundred 



588 EVRorE ly storm and calm. 

and seven electors; seventy-two cities, in the kinjidoni. ... It is prepos- 
borongiis, l)nrgiis, and districts, liaviiig terous that fortv-two little lioroughs 
eleven million live hnndred and thirty- should send fortv-two nieuiliers to the 
seven thousand one liinidicd and twenty- House of Connnons, while the nineteen 
four iiopnlation, and an aggregate elector- great citizen boroughs, with more than 
shi[) of one million five hunilred and two twenty-seven times tiie population, and 
thousiiud four hundred and thirty-six, as with twenty-tivt' times moix- electors, and 
well as an aggregate assessment of assessed at nearly tifty times the amount 
£25;3,710,700, returned but one lunidred of income tax, have only one more reii- 
and thirty members; ninety-eight conn- resi-ntative. To secure a real reiiresenta- 
ties and divisions, with seven million tion of the people one thing is essentially 
four hundred and ninety-four tlKJUsand requisite, namely, electoral districts, 
eight hundred and three population, and doing away with the distinction between 
an aggregate electorship of four hundred counties and boroughs, whose real and 
and eighty-seven thousand three lunidred i)ermanent interests are identical." 
and eighty-seven, and aggregate assess- Dining the recent campaign iu favor 
ments of £10"2,427,491, returned one of the extension of the franchise, and 
hundred and fifty-eight members; while while the plan for redistribution was be- 
sixty-one other counties and divisions, iug an-anged, a list of one hundred and 
with twelve million live hundred and sixty towns and places, each one of 
fort}' thousand sevi'U hundred and wliieii had more than ten thousand jiopu- 
seventy-seven population, seven hundred lation, but none of which had direct 
and liftv-seven thousand one hundred re|iresentation in Parliament, or were 
and twelve aggregate electorslii|i, and inciir|ioratiMl lur parliamentary purposes 
an aggregate assessment of twenty- with re[iresented cities, boroughs, or dis- 
five per cent, larger than that of the tricts, was published. These one hun- 
whole ninety-eight other counties and dr<>d and sixty towns had an aggreg;.te 
divisions, retiu'ued but one hundre<l population of three million two hundred 
and twenty-five members. This will and ninety-seven thousand two hundred 
sti'ike any one as a curious anomaly ; and and seventeen, exceeiling tliat of the 
" these figures demonstrate," says a writer seventy-two boroughs and cities, which, 
in the "Financial Reform Almanac," as we see above, were ri'iu'esented by 
" with equal clearness, first, the mon- one hundred and thirty membeis. Yet 
strous anomalies of our present electoral they had no voice in Parliament what- 
system ; and, secondly, the folly of our ever; whilst the latter sent seventy-two 
pseudo-philosophers, who imagine that members to the House of Connnons 
the only true principle of representative alone. A striking illustration of the 
government, namely goverinnent by manner in which the system worked is 
majorities, is erroneous, and ought to be furnished by St. Helens, which has a 
partially nullitied by minorities. They ha\e population of nearly sixty thousand in- 
sofar succeeded by means of their thret'- haliitants but no member iu Parliament ; 
cornered crotchet as to place the great while Port Arlington, with scarcely two 
towns of Birmingham, Liver|iool, Leeds, thousand five hundred inhabitants, has 
Glasgow, an<l IManchester on a footing just as nmeli vote-power as Manchestei'. 
of perfect equality, as regards the vote Put the House of Connnons is indus- 
power, with the most insignificant place tricnisly reforming itself, and reforming 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



589 



out of existence the privileges wiiicli 
h:ive so long kei)t millions of men who 
jliould have been voters practically non- 
voters ; and the Distribution Bill, which 
has been led into the public view by the 
new-born Franchise Bill, is to sweep with 
a vigorous broom the old constituencies. 
All boroughs which have less than fifteen 
thousand inhabitauts are to be merged 
in surrounding county districts ; those 
boroughs with less than fifty thousand 
inhabitants are to have but one member 
each ; and those between fifl}- and one 
hundred and sixty-five thousand are to 
retain two members each. All urban 
constituencies with more than one hun- 
dred and sixty-five thousand inhabitants, 
and all counties, without exception, are 
to be divided into districts, represented 
each by a single member. Both Sir 
Stafford Nortlicote and Lord Salisbury 
are understood to adhere warmly to this 
plan, which has nevertheless been tried 
with small success for several years in 
the French Parliament. Gauibetta tried 
with all his might to break up the single- 
member constituencies, and to substitute 
for Scrutiii d'xirroncUssement the Srrutin 
de Liste ; in other words, to build a com- 
pact and vigorous party which could be 
handled and controlled l)y the usual 
party agencies, rather than to allow the 
continuance in office of a set of petty 
representatives, each committed to all the 
hobbies, and possilily all the faults, of 
his small group. Liberals like the late 
Mr. Fawcett, after a careful survey of 
the Eedistribution Bill proposed by their 
party, decided that they could not give 
it their support. Mr. Courtney even 
resigned his office as Secretary of the 
Treasury, and when he did so said that 
Mr. Fawcett, if he had lived, would have 
retired from the postmaster-generalship 
as an indication of his disbelief in the 
one-member svstem. The Redistribution 



Bill, in its present shape, is the result of 
a compromise, which seems to have l3een 
somewhat suddenly resolved U|ion, and 
t') which the leading statesmen of l.)oth 
parties will adhere, because they feel in 
honor bound to do so, although, on 
second thought, they may not find the 
measure the best that conld have been 
proposed. Parliament professes to have 
been anxious to secure a substantial 
representation of minorities, and of all 
important interests, and that it can do 
so by separating the rural Irom the 
iniian voters. 

The histoiy of England for the i)ast 
thirty years may be said to represent a 
constant progress towards electoral re- 
form, and towards an amelioration of the 
abuse consequent on tiie maintenance 
of privileges, — progress checked and 
hindered, sometimes absolutely set aside, 
by the [jressing anxiety of attending to 
aflairs abroad. England. is willing and 
able to set her house in order, but every 
time she takes the mop in hand, and 
has made ready to go on with the cleans- 
ing, a disturbance outside calls her 
forth, and the internal economy must 
suffer for the time being. Two great 
parties in the enormous metropolis of 
London are at present eager to do battle 
over the question of municipal reform. 
The absorption, the concentration, the 
centralization party finds itself con- 
fronted by the passionate admirers of 
the vestry system. The old-fashioned 
and amiable gentlemen who have long 
been prominent in vestry affairs look 
forward with horror and with some little 
contempt to the advent of professional 
politiciaus ; and the rpiestion would lie 
decided within a year, doulitless in 
favor of the centralizing party, were 
it not for the constant aggravation of 
tiie Egyptian problem, and the necessity 
for the nation to concentrate its strength 



590 



EUROPE AV STORM AXD CALM. 



upon extension and self-protection 
abroad, ^'e^y likelv the Redistribution 
Bill has been put baeiv for a Ions; time 
by the death of Gordon at Khartoum ; 
but, although delayed and harassed 
by the peculiar duties which England 
chooses to assume abroad, the plan of 
liberal reform is never relin(juished. 
During a period of six years of Conserv- 
ative rule, when Imperialism was thought 
of more importance by those who had 
the governing power in their hands 
than the correction of abuse and the 
consequent spread of contentment at 
liome, the Liberals never lost hope, and 
thev took u^) the unlinishc'(1 work wliere 
they had left it when they left power. 

The centralization of the city govern- 
ment in London, or, to speak by the card, 
the reci instruction of the government of 
London l)y means of a municipal bill, will 
doubtless be taken up by the same Parlia- 
ment which will have to inaugurate some 
of the sternest legislation ever known in 
England with regard to the tenure of 
land, and it is not until the tenure of 
laud lias been changed in its form that 
the absolute reconstruction of London 
and of its government can be hoped for. 
It is the privileges of gentlemen like the 
Dukes of Portland, Redlbrd, and West- 
minster ; it is the fact that vast tracts of 
land within tlie metropolitan district 
are in the (xissession of families from 
whose grasp tlu'V will not, under jiresent 
leiiislatioii. lie allciweil to I'ass. .-nid of 



aristocratic owners, who have notliing to 
gain and miicii to lose liy tlie march of 
popular imiirovement, — it is to these 
things that the delay in the rebuilding of 
London, as Paris and Vienna have been 
rebuilt, is to be attributed. No emperor 
can, with magic wand, cause streets of 
palaces to rise where now there are 
grimy acres of three-story, mean-looking 
houses, built of greasy bricks. The 
landed interests in London clash; they 
could not lie lirought harmoniously to 
work in favor of a great improvement, 
and London nuist wait for its rebirth 
until the country has passed through its 
bitter experience of agrarian refoi'm. 
Doubtless London, like Paris, will al- 
ways be kept more or less under tlie 
thumb of Parliament, for it is tlie capi- 
tal, and, as such, must be sulijected to 
restrictions and rules to which other 
cities might witli reason object. Rut 
when some mighty alchymist has melted 
up in his crucible (jf numicipal reform 
all the antique plate and jewelry of the 
State, and all the formulas and rul)l(ish 
of the petty vestries, with their eioss- 
purposes and their maintenance of old 
lirivileges, there will arise out of the 
vapors a capital which, while it may 
not be gifted with the lieaiity of moi'e 
southern cities, will have a might and ele- 
gance, and a grandeur worthy of the 
largest collection of liuman beings in any 
civilized country. 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



591 



CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN. 



TVie Evolution Towards Deraociacv. — Sii- Charles Dilke ami Mr. Chamberlain. — Eiifjlish Directness 
anil Plainness of Speech. — Lord IIartin;^ton. — Mr. Labonchere. — Eni^lisb Sonrces of Rcvcnne. 

— The Land Tax. — IIow it is Evaded. — Free Trade in Land. — Taxing tlie Privileged Classes. 

— The Coming Straggle. 



~VTOT oven the fii'st gentleuuiii in 
-L^ England pretends to deny that 
the counti'j' is formally engaged in the 
gradual evolution towards denioeraey. 
Now and then some two-penny dema- 
gogue, who wishes to ohtain notoriety as 
an agitator, insists that the progress is 
imaginary rather than real, and that 
notliing can be accomplished save by 
violent and immediate revolution. But 
this sort of demagogue is not even con- 
sidered respectable within the limits of 
his (jwn advanced party, and to be thought 
not respectable, in the English sense of 
the word, is equivalent to the complete 
wrecking of one's hopes. Radicalism 
itself, from the aristocratic point of view, 
is naturally thought low. If a gentle- 
mauof birthaud position like Sir Charles 
Dilke, or a gentleman of undoubted ca- 
pacity and iituess for atfairs like Mr. 
Chamberlain, openly associates with the 
Radicals, he is qualified as eeewutric, but 
the unwritten and unspoken criticism 
which those who daily meet these gentle- 
men in the political arena reserve to 
themselves, is that their eccentricity is 
perilously near the verge of the disrepu- 
table. 

Sir Charles Dilke and Mr. Chamber- 
lain, and other advanced standard bear- 
ers of the democratic idea, trouble them- 
selves but little as to the opinion of the 
aristocratic class. They occupy them- 
selves in the most industrious and prac- 
tical manner with directing the pacific 



revolution which will luiiig in its train 
greater changes than any other country 
in Etn'oije has seen in this generation. 
Sir. Chamberlain is perhaps, open to the 
reproach of too great frankness in 
pointing out the sweeping reforms or 
alterations which are to be made in the 
systems of government and society. He 
rouses an antagonism which otherwise 
might have slumliered contentedly on its 
carved and painted benches. What Mr. 
Bradlaugh, in his Hall of Science, may 
or may not sa}' , is thought bj- the mem- 
bers of the House of Lords of small 
consequence : but when a cabinet minis- 
ter and the Director of the Board of 
Trade openly advocates changes in the 
pioperty laws, they are roused not only 
to resentment but tf) action. There 
never was, in the history of American 
political cam[)aigiiiiig, a moie active, 
energetic and determined canvass of a 
country than that undertaken against 
Mr. Giladstone and his works by the 
Marijuess of Salisluiry, in the autumn 
and siuumer of 1884 : neither is there in 
the hetit of American political speaking 
any greater violence of language, or, I 
had almost said, vituperation, than was 
manifest in the speeches of those who 
opposed the Franchise Bill. That state- 
liness and elegance of diction in writing 
and speaking on political affairs, wiiich 
was once characteristic of the great lords 
of the country, has long been conspicu- 
ous by its absence. It was the firmness 



502 EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 

of tlicir liclk'f ill tho diiraliilily of thcur vast tnnpiii' ami ilestroy onr influence 
in-ivili'g'i' wliifli j^avc tln'iii siK-h sulf-pos- al)road. Let us not listen to Quakers, 
session. Niiw liiey begin to see that liiie Mi'. Bright, and Utopian theorists, 
tlie iiicieasi' in the Democracy's power like JSIr. Chamlierlain, or to shriekers, 
fatally inc;iiis the decrease of their like Mr. Bradlangh, who would have us 
own. coneentrate onr whole attention upon the 
livery well-edn<-ated Englishinan of poorer classes at home." Between the 
Protestant training h:is that iiieouveii- clainis of the old aristocracy and the 
ieiit conscience which will not p.'iinit new deinocracv, — claims so diametri- 
liim, for a hmg time, even when it is for callj' opi'osed to each other, — a Liberal 
his own interest, to advocate a measure minister of war, like Lord nartiiigton, 
which may do wrong to any one, and iniist from time to time, suffer great 
since the full and frank exposure by the perplexity. A Lilicral cabinet, with men 
aiiostles of the new democracy <if the within it who believe that ICngland 
abuses of privilege which wer(> graftecl should send no military forces on ccn- 
iipiiu Ihe hind system and upon the cpicst, and men within it who believe 
grounding of political power on the pos- just the opposite thing, is a divided 
session of land, many a lord of high force, which can but suffer from the divis- 
degree is lieginning to confess that a ion. That notable English conscience 
change would not be unwelcome even which [irevails, as we have said, among 
to himself. Men like the Marquis of the aristocratic as well as lower down in 
Salisbury, who ha\e a liiin lielief in the Ihe social scale, is conspicuous in the 
Lnjierial idea, in the necessity for Eng- case of tlu' Marquis of Ilartington, the 
land of a constant aggressive attitude, eldest sou of one of the ver}' greatest of 
ill tlie i)erpetiiation of Lord Beacons- all the English land-owners, the Duke of 
field's dangerous policy, comfort them- Devonshire, whose estates extend into 
selves with tlie conclusion that no fourteen different counties, and who 
democracy can maintain or direct the owns nearly two hundred thousand 
antique policy of Great Brittiin witli(.)Ut acres of hind, which give him almost as 
having the protection of a govei'iiiiig many pounds sterling as annual rental, 
class having leisuie. because of its for- who has forty-tuo chnrch-livings in his 
tune got from land, to occupy Itself in a gift, six magnilicent country-seats, — 
diguilied manner with the conduct of C'hatsworlh, Ilardwick, Ilolker Hall, 
armies and navies, with the regulation C'ompton Place, Bolton Abbey, Lisiiiore 
of treaties and tiie ehess-lioard games of Castli', — and Devonshire House in Lon- 
<li[iloniacy. "A democracy," so say don. Not more than three centuries 
these noble lords, '• would |ihici> us in the and a half ago the head of this great 
precarious position of a second or third house was an obscure country gentle- 
claas power in Europe. If we have an man in Suffolk ; to-day his descendants 
upheaval of the substrata of society, and hold three peerages and two hundred 
the accession to powi^r of men who know and twenty thous.aiid acres of land in 
nothing of our old jih-in of government, England and Ireland. This founder of 
we shall go to v,ar. (Jive us Beacons- the house was William Cavendish, sup- 
field's game, witli its risks and dangers, posed to lie he who wrote the life of 
rather than the stay-at-home policv of ( 'ardiii;il Wolsey, and whom Shakespeare 
the Radicals, who would break \\\> our mentions. The Cavendishes have always 



EUROPE AV STORM AXD CALM. 



593 



had the reputation of being good land- 
lords, nnd a moie touching demonstration 
of affection was never witnessed in Eng- 
land than at the great gathering of the 
tenants at Chatsworth, when Lord Fred- 
erick Cavendish, who had been assassi- 
nated in Ireland, was brought home to 
be buried. 

The Marquis of Hartingtou, now a 
comely gentleman of fifty, is re|>orted 
to be utterly frank in his opinions as 
to the future. He was once asked 
bj- an American how he could con- 
tribute to a current of c>pinions which 
would one day sweep away all mem- 
bers of his class, and he answered that 
there was no help for it; by which 
he doubtless meant that his conscience 
compelled him to it. Such men stand 
high in the estimation of both parties ; 
at the same time, like the young noble- 
man in Mr. Henry James's story, they 
have not the remotest notion that :dl the 
revolutions in the world will abate the 
amount of their income one jot. Lord 
Hartington went into the House of Com- 
mons when he was twenty-three ; thence 
to St. Petersburg, whither he attended 
Earl Granville, who was then ambassa- 
dor ; in process of time, found himself 
vested with a mission of bringing about 
a vote of non-con lidenee against the 
ministry in Parliament ; did it with 
much skill ; made a pai'lianientary repu- 
tation, interspersing his political lal)ors 
with social enjoyment with the Prince of 
Wales, whose elder he was, and with 
whom he has in his time indulged in 
many a frolic ; and when he was of ma- 
ture years stood in the rather unique 
liosition of being heir to one of the 
noblest of the English duchies, in pos- 
session of a vast income of his own, a 
leader of fashion, and an acknowledged 
leader of the Liberals. Minister of war 
to-dav, he can look back to the ao-e of 



thirty-three, and reflect that he then 
held the same office. He was a civil 
Lord of the Admiralty at thirty ; in fact, 
he was fully up to the level of his ad- 
vantages and improved every one of 
them ; when he could not be in active 
political ministry he was willing to be a 
postmaster-general. He is one of those 
who like to do everything thoroughly. 
If he drives a drag it is faultlessly cor- 
rect in style. He is a great hunter. 
He loves whist, and he enjoys to the 




JOSEPH CIIAMBEItLAIN. 
From Photograph by Lundou Stereoscopic Co. 



utmost one of those old-fashioned 
parliamentary sittings, such as some- 
times occiu- over a debate on the 
address, when good sound blows are 
given and taken with perfect temper 
on either side. A stammering and 
rather shy speaker, what he says is 
always telling. 

Some degree of the resentment pri- 
vately cherished against Lord Harting- 
ton by members of the landed aristoc- 
racy, who, while thej- respect, cannot 
agree with him, is visited oiienly upon 
new-comers, like Mr. Chamberlain, who is 



594 EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 

c;illi'il with Eniilish bliintness a pKrrenii, lilow up his Sloaiio-street residunoe with 

:uiil lilvL' fSir Charles Dilku. wlio is cousid- dynamite. On the continent lie is iioim- 

ered as unieasonulih' radical. These gen- lar. He has a country-house near 

tlemen occasionally receive verbal casti- Toulon, where he goes to get rid of the 

gation from .some noble manjuis or other melancholy gathered in the London fogs, 

able aristocratic jjolitician ; but this only and it gives him a certain pleasure to 

adds fuel to the rtauie of their enthusi- be interviewed by radical Frenchmen, 

asm. .Sir Charles Dilke is the brother who attribute to him monstrosities of 

of Asliton Dilke, who died some years statement which make the hair of the 

ago, and who was far more advanced in aristocratic gentlemen in the House of 

radicalism than the present i-epresenta- Lords stand upon end with horror when 

tive of the family and owner of the they read them. 

'• Atheiia-uni." — the piinci|)al literary There are several gentlemen in the 
critical jouijial of London, — has ever House of Commons who form an able 
|iresiiiiK'd t(i be. Mr. Chamberlain does addition to the little cor[is <.if distin- 
not ill liis speeches talk so much t)f pos- guished and wealthy Liberals and IJadi- 
sible republicanism as of practical mea.s- cals ; nuMi like Mr. LaVxiuchere, of 
ures for reform in legislation : Imt in his large f(.irtune, of consummate jourual- 
public writings and speeches .Sir Charles islic ability, freshness of style, ,-nid 
L)ilke has clearly siiown that he likes re- cliarui of manner, yet with frankui'ss 
publicanisni with ac<mtiuental llavor. He born of complete iiidi-peudeuce, and who 
was, even when at the L'niversity. tlior- tell i he truth to shame the devil, no 
oughly radical in his ideas. He adured, matter if Knglaiid lie the worse for it. 
as indeed did every one who mel him, JMr. Labciuchere is twin member for 
the Italian patriot, JMazzini. He is Northampton with Mr. Biadlaugh, and 
said to have atteniiited to convert the has well and tirmly stixxl for his col- 
I'riuci' of Wales to republican (.)[iinions. league each time that the li'reat free- 
He had tiiat symmetrical educaticm thiukei- and free-speaker has forced 
which enables all English gentlemen to his way in only to be expelled again 
do so much and many things so well, fortliuith IVom the House of Commons, 
To him is due the phrase of " Greater wliii.'h tlislikes to receive him. Air. 
Britain," whi<'li has been embodied in Lali()ucht'''re goes everywhere. Now he 
English p<jlitics. A man of twenty-tive. may be found at Marlborough House, 
he circled the world and made a brilliant getting the latest gossij) from l!ie Prince 
book. At twenty-six he was a I^ilieral of Wales, and next he will be heard of 
leader in Parliament, and the old family in his jilace in the Commons, demanding 
home in Sloaue street was the scene of the full withdrawal of the Enelish troops 
many brilliant gatherings of the lights from Egypt. He is a kind of guerilla, 
of the literary and scientific socaety of fighting on the side wliicLi pleases him 
Northern Euro|)e. Sir Charles is a best, and alwavs aiixicms for truth, the 
straightforwaid politician. Although a woi'd which he has inscrilied as the title 
good Democrat he docs not symiiathize of his picturesque and sparkling journal. 
with the Iri--h demand for separation. Democa'acv means. aiu<.)ug other things, 
doubtless prompted by the growth of the a careful investigation into the sources 
Democratic feeling in Ireland as in Eng- of revenue and of expenditure in Eiig- 
Uiiid; and there have been threats to laud; and during the last ten years the 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



595 



nation has awakened to the fact that 
the hmded aristocracy has, during its 
long season of privilege, managed to 
abate or abolish the greater part of taxa- 
lion upon its land, and also to convey 
into its own family circles nearly all tlie 
important revenues from goxernment 
service. The statistics on this point 
are extremely curious and interesting. 
It is confidently asserted that the House 
of Lords represents 211 families of 
barons, who have 2.41)2 people, hold- 
lug 4,099 ofKees, receiving from the 
English nation £31,12G.18.S annnaliy ; 
GO families of viscouiits, Avitii UU3 people, 
holding 1,5G1 offices, and receiving 
£11,241,202 per year; 200 families of 
earls, with 3.31(1 people, hoiiling 5,9G3 
offices, with £48,181,202 per annum; 
33 families of marquises, with 620 
persons in 1,252 offices, at £8,30.j,9.50 
yearly ; and finally, 28 ducal families, 
with .")19 people, holding 1,(113 otlices, 
at £l),7G0.090 every year. Thus the 
gigantic total of 108i millions sterling 
remains in the hands or in the disposi- 
tion and gift of tiie House of L(jrds. 
What ducks and drakes the coming De- 
mocracy will make of this money, and 
how (piickly it will wrest it from the 
hands of the hereditary House ! The 
stinging English statement that the pulj- 
lic service is a house of refuge for the 
poor relatives of the aristocracy is 
founded upon absolute fact. Tiiese ap- 
pointments, represented in the 13,888 
otfices, which the House of Lords iu one 
way and another disposes of, are in the 
army, the navy, the church, the uni- 
versities, the Colonial and Indian civil 
and military administrations, — the es- 
talilished chui'ch furnishing some of the 
fattest places. There are hundreds upon 
hundreds of appointments of £10,000, 
£."),000, £3,000, £1,500, and £1,200 
yearly. It is not astonishing that, with 



this superabundance of power and pat- 
ronage in its hands, the hereditary 
house should frown upon the admission 
to the franchise of the two millions of 
voters whose libei'ation must be ac- 
counted the final triumph of the Demo- 
cratic spirit in Great Britain . In England, 
(piite contrary to the case in Ireland, no 
great l)itterness of feeling seems to 
enter into tlie agitation for land reform; 
but tlie movement is characterized liy 
the very greatest detenniuation. The 
lare question is of course eliminated. 
The farmer, too, has a kind of pity for 
tlie gentleinau who is stranded finan- 
cially by having left upon his hands the 
farms which can be no longer worked 
to advant.-ige ; and the farmer looks 
with a little suspiciou upon the elevation 
of the agricultural laliorer to political 
independence. Such is the respect for 
rank in England that there is a kind of 
reluctance to take away, or to hint at 
taking away, the broad acres U|>iin which 
the ducal and liaronial claims aixl fortunes 
are founded. There is not. nor ever can 
be, the least pos>il)ility of a Jaccjuerie in 
England. The Democracy is cool and 
long-headtd. and understands that it 
must keep itself well in hand to gain its 
victory by votes, not by shouting and 
fighting. To fight were hopeless ; to 
demonstrate in noisy crowds is of com- 
paratively little use. In last summer's 
campaign each party ridiculed and de- 
nied the autlienticity of the other's 
demonstrations iu mass meetings. The 
vote is tlie thing, and the Democratic 
\oters feel that in time they will be more 
than a match for aristocracy and plu- 
tocracy combined. 

The statistics of land-ownership, and 
particularly in England and Wales, have 
been very carefully collected l)^- the con- 
tending parties since 1872, when the 
agitation took definite shape. John 



596 



EVROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



Stuart Mill and .lolm Hriuht liail made 
many statoiuents as t" the ihoudiioIv of 
land in the kingdom ; and so a I'arlia- 
nientaiy C'unnnission wa.s established tu 
investigate the holdings of rentals, and 
came before the public uith the aston- 
ishing statement that, instead of tliere 
being few, there were a great many 
owners of land in the three kingdoms ; 
in fact, that there were more than 
1,100,(100 persons, liaving a combined 
holding of 72,000,000 acres. They 
took care, however, to exclude such 
parts of certain counties as are included 
in the metropolis of Loudon, which would 
have made a very great difference in 
their aggregate. Furthermore, they had 
reckoned leaseholders as owners, which, 
as a mcmlK'r of Parliament said at the 
time, was very much like calling a hired 
liorse an owned liorse. They had also 
tumbled into this curious return of land- 
ownership all the crown [iroperty, the 
war-ottices and railway pr<.)perty, the 
asvlinn. almshouses, charity, i)Oor, and 
other trustees ; church-wardens, parish 
and police-ollicei's, colleges, ecclesias- 
tical commissions, and dozens of other 
bodies or persons who could not ollicially 
be delincd as owners of land. They 
also stated the extent of connnons and 
waste lands in such a manner as to 
render their whole return initrustworthy 
and misleading. From careful returns 
made in 1S74 it appears that in Eng- 
land and Wales 12 persons own more 
than 1,000,000 acres; CG persons, 
1,917,076 acres; 100 persons jiossess 
3,917,641 acres: 2.H0 persons, .').-! 2."i. 764 
acres, or nearly one-sixth of all the en- 
closed land in the two countries ; .")2o 
persons own one-lifth of all England 
and Wales; 710 own one-fourth of both 
countries ; .S74 persons possess 9,2(i7,0.'M 
acres ; and 10.207 jiersons possess two- 
thirds (jf the whole of England and 



Wales ; 4.900 men own more than half 
England and Wales ; 26 persons own half 
the county of Noithumberland, which 
contains 12,200 acres. In Scotland a 
striking instance of land absori)tiou is 
that of the Duke ot .Sutherland, who 
owns nearly one-eighteenth part of the 
whole laud. In Ireland, out of the 
whole area of twenty million odd acres, 
12 persons own 1,297,8^8 acres; 292 
persons own one-third of the island ; 744 
own nearly oue-half of it ; and two-thir(ls 
of the land of Ireland is possessed by 
1,942 peo[)le. 

The aim of the new democracy is free 
trade in laud, the prevention of the ap- 
propriation of connnou lands by private 
land-owners, very jiossibly a change in 
the .system of tenure, increase of land- 
owners, and the game-laws, the con- 
version of lands now lying idle to the 
supply of food, thus lessening the neces- 
sity for foreign imports, and the liring- 
ing up of the land tax to its old level 
of four shillings in the pound, — a tax 
that was levied In' legislation in the 
time of William and Mary, Intt that 
has been regularly avoided liy an in- 
genious system of allotments and re- 
demptions ever since. The democratic 
statisticians reckon that some thirty or 
forty millions might be restored to the 
animal revenue if the tax-evading land 
owners could be made to pay up. The 
redemptions or sales of land tax, :it 
eighteen or twenty odd years' purchase, 
according to value, came in at the time 
of ^Ir. Pitt, who took any means to raise 
money: and it has been practically main- 
tained ever since by the .system of 
(|uotas. In the south counties of Great 
liritain the land-owners have rarely been 
made to pay more than one shilling in 
the pomiil ; manv have had to pay but 
six pence, some only one penny ; and 
some less than a farthing. The general 



EUROPE LV STORM AND CALM. 



597 



average for land taxation of Great 
Britain was onlj' one and three-fonrths 
pence, in the assessments of 1877-78. 
" This," says the author of a powerful 
article on the Britisli Revenue System, 
"is a pretty- account to be given of a tax 
called hy act of Parliament one of four 
shillings in the pound on tlie full annual 
value." In fourteen years of the reign 
of \Villiam III., the whole public income 
from all sources was £107,437.540, to 
wliich the land tax contributed more 
than one-fifth of the total amount. But 
in 1883 the public income from taxes 
and ordinary receipts amounted to £87,- 
20.0,184, to which the land tax con- 
tributed but one-eighty-second part of 
the whole. 

Thus the coming struggle to put the 
taxation upon the privileged class, to 
modify, substitute, possibly withdraw, 
many of tlieir privileges, to bring into 
the public service uew classes of men not 
representing special families, or brandies 
of families, to establish party govern- 
ment rather than class government, — all 



this is meant by the democratic and 
radical revolution in P^ngland. There 
is no heed to fear bloodslied, or ruin of 
property. The Englisinnau is eminently 
conservative, and especially witii regard 
to the sacredness of proiierty. Tliere 
will l)e changes of ownership without 
destruction of the things to be owned. 
In 1832 the first Heforni Bill was 
thought by the conservatives to have a 
reign of terror behind it; but 1807 came 
slowly to the front and Ijrought no grizzly 
horrors of revolution. The conservative 
country squire might say that tlie prog- 
ress of these reforms liad indirectly 
brought about the dynamite atrocities 
and the revolt across tlie Irish eliannel ; 
but few would be willing to grant this. 
Between 18(17 and 1884 a new England 
has been constructed within old Eiighiiid, 
but it is still behind the curtain. It will 
appear in the twinkling of an eye one 
day presently, and then all the world 
will consider its advent natural and 
pro[)er. 



598 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT. 

Public ami Popular Speakers. — Spiir;.a'<)n in liis Tabcrnaelo. — The Temperance Question. — The Finan- 
cial Ilclbrni Lea;:jue. — Facts iur llicli ami Puur. — Bradlau^li in the Hall of .Science. — Pepublican 
Jlcetin*^ in Tral'aliiar .Square. — { jlatlistoue at a Funeral. — ** Oil ! lluw Dreadful I " — Pulilic Meetings 
in Euiilauil. — Tlie Lord M;iyor of Loinlon. — Pauquets at the Maii>;ion House. — The City C'om- 
paiiic>. — " Lord May tu's i);iy."' — The i'rocessiou 



ALTIIOL'tni tlie Radicals are fioin 
tiiiu' to time di.siiosed scoHitigly to 
ik'iiy that llie Iloiise of Coininons and 
the House of Lords constitute a peo- 
ple's parliament, they are in no wise 
deprived of tlie most ample fi|i|iortuni- 
lies for pniilie and even noisy diseiis- 
sion of all the qnestions which vitally 
concern (ireat Britain. Tlie frankness 
and plainness of speecli so prevalent 
in Parliament, the indisposition to dis- 
gnise nnsavory tiiitlis 1)V aniliioiions 
phrases, are still more apparent in tlie 
speeches of public orators not in political 
life ; ;m<l while they do not quite reach 
tlie virnlenee soi.ietimes reniaikeil in the 
addresses of |)oliticians in Aniericti, yet 
they are extremely phtin. We have in 
America lieard so much of tlie inaliility 
of the English to si)eak in iinlilic freely 
and without eniharrassment. that it some- 
what surprises an American resiiling for 
a short time in London to discover a 
great ninuber of excellent [mhlic orators 
outside as well as within the siiliere of 
politics. 

Two men wlio spetik ilii'ectly to the 
j)nblic heart, whose spheres of inHnence 
.are widely different, and whose reputa- 
tions have passed far beyond the boini- 
daries of their native land, nu'rit a 
moment of our attention. S|)nrgeon and 
Bradlaugh are great forces in the metro|i- 
olis, forces which are luiiloubtedly used 
for gootl. ypurgeou is intensely sjiirit- 



iial, aboiuiding in homely metaphor, 
yet sometimes mounting to the height of 
genuine eloquence. He sways his tre- 
mendous congregation, made ui) from the 
lower middle classes of London's shop- 
men, wM.irknien, and women, irresistibly 
whichever way lie wills. To the thou- 
sands f(»r whom the higher intellectual 
life is scarcely iwssible he is an unfail- 
ing foimtain of ins[)iratiou, and he draws 
to the huge Tabernacle, :is it is called, 
perha|>s the oddest collection of strangers, 
from all [larts of the world, that can be 
found in any luiilding used as a church. 
Foreigners go out of curiosity, the 
piously inclined visit tlie Tabernacle t<:i 
judge for themselves of Spurgeoirs spirit- 
ual force, and hur.dred.s of the Aralis of 
Lon<loii, — i:eo|ile homeless and almost 
destitute, men and women from the 
slums. — steal into the great galleries as 
if coming to the sanctuary for a refuge 
wiiich they can find nowhere else. Spnr- 
geon rarely touciies directly on the great 
national topics, but, when he does, his 
touch is firm and vigorous. His denini- 
ciation of a mistaken iioliey has weight 
wliich is felt up rivei- at Westminster. 
In him arc none of the tricks and follies 
found ill the deliverv of th" fashionable 
clergvinan. There is no hesitancy, no 
coughing, and no interpolation of " Ahs " 
aivl "Ohs." Indeed, all the great 
English s|ieakers enunciate their words 
ijuite fully and clearly, and with much the 



EUROrE IN STORM AND CALM. 



599 



same inflection found in American ora- 
tors. 

The Metropolitan Tabernacle, in wliicli 
Spurgeon preaches, is certainly one of 
the curiosities of London. It stands in 
a rather frowzy section of the great city, 
— where rambling streets, ill-kept, are 
lined with low and dingy houses ; and as 
the great congregation of uearl}" seven 
thousand persons pours out of the Taber- 
nacle, on .Sunday mornings, it is com- 
pelled to pass through a double row of 
degraded men and women, who are wait- 
ing irai)atiently for the opening of the 
public houses from one to three o'clock. 
The amiable Londoner of the upper 
class, wlien asked to give a good reason 
for the hiws regulating the sale of liquor 
on Sunday in the British capital, frankly 
confesses that he knows nothing of it, 
save that it seems planned to promote 
rather than check intemperance. On a 
dull Sunday the London workers and 
the equally large class of people out of 
work rise late, and, instead of bending 
their thoughts on church and chapel (for 
in England the dissenting churches are 
called chapels, to distinguish them from 
the established Ei)iscopal church), pace 
the streets or linger at corners, longing 
for the moment when the Sunday carouse 
may begin. In the mid-day hours the 
gin-palace doors swing widely open, long 
processions of miserably clad people 
hasten to' and fro, bearing jugs or bot- 
tles, or crowd around the high counters, 
paying their hard-earned money for that 
which is not bread. At three o'clock 
they are turned out, and the doors are 
banged remorselessly together ; but from 
six o'clock again gin and rum reign 
supreme until a late hour. Throughout 
each quarter of London inhabited by 
the poor classes the public iionses have 
monopolized the best street corners. 
They are of uniform type, neatly painted 



outside, divided into stalls with high 
partitions, the fever for class distinc- 
tions prevailing even in these establish- 
ments. To foreigners, nothing can be 
more comfortless than these dens, where 
the new comers constantly crowd out 
those who precede them, and where the 
language and the atmosphere leave much 
to be desired. The worthy gentlemen 
of the Financial Reform Association — 
a league established nearly forty years 
ago for the advocacy of economical gov- 
ernment, just taxation, and perfect free- 
dom of trade — constantly lay befoi'e 
the people the ruin wrought on the 
nation by the favors heaped upon the 
publican because he contributes so pow- 
erfully to the revenue. This Keform 
League says a revolution is needed in 
fiscal matters, when the lands of the 
rich pay but £1,000,000 sterling a year 
in land tax, while the pipe and pf)t nf 
the laborer pay £30,000,000 sterling 
per annum in customs and excise duty ; 
when the rich man's quota of taxation 
is collected from him cheaply and 
directly, but the workingmen's allot- 
ment is collected by a system that rol)s 
them of still another £30,000,000 ster- 
ling in the process ; when the lands 
which are bequeathed by the rich at 
death pay no proliate and little succes- 
sion duty, but the savings of the people 
in the lower and middle classes are taxed 
at the rate of six and one-half millions 
yearlv by probate and legacy duties; 
when the remedy of the law and the 
transfer of small land and house )irop- 
erties is kept out of the reach of the 
mass of the people by the heavy exactions 
in deed stamps and other legal fees 
and charges ; when sobriety and tem- 
perance are discouraged by a tax of 
£4,500,000 sterling per annum on the 
workman's tea, cotfee, and cocoa, and 
the workman lias to pay still other 



(iOC) 



ECROri; IX ffTORM AXD CALM. 



millions for the collection of these 
£4,500,000. 

The Financial Refi>riii fjeague is not 
in ernir in condenniing" tlie excise as one 
of the most grievous bnrdens on the 
people. These excise duties were first 
imposed in England in IGGH. Tliev were 
then solely laid on pnlilic drinks, — lieer, 
cider, spirits, coffee, and tea, — and tliey 
took tiie place of a revenue, hitlurto 
due from the land in tlie shape of feudal 
rents. Tlie amount of tlie latter revenue 
in ICCiO was £100.000 sterling per year, 
but the amount of the newly imposed 
excise was £G10,000 sterling per annum. 
Thus, tile facility with wliich tlie (loor 
can lie rolihed for llie lienefit of tlie rich 
being establisheil, the retention of exrise 
ever since as agreat branch of tlie revenue 
has followed. The famous malt duty 
was abolislied siinie time ago ; lint Ml', 
(lladstone substituted for it. in ISSO, 
an excise on beer, whiili has since 
broiiuht ill an eiKUUious revenue. It 
seems to the iniparti:il oliserver as if the 
pjUglisli workman drank his lieer and 
spirits in large ciuantities to no other 
end than to aid in siippdrling the tleets 
and armies of Her liiit;iiiiiic Majesty, 
and the maintenance of her great body 
of collectors and ofHcia's throughout the 
immense extent of territory o\ er which 
the English tlag floats. IJut the work- 
man would prolialily say, as indeed he 
does snv. when the subject is Ijrought to 
his attention : — 

" D — n a man's eyes, 
If ever ho tries 
To nib a jMicir man of his lieer." 

Mr. Spnrgeon, from his outlook in the 
high pul|)it of liis Taberiuicle. sees clearly 
what is going on around him, and battles 
against the intemperance of the lower 
classes ; but the battle is a long and 
difficult one. 



The stronghold of the redoubtable 
Bradlaugh, whose name is as familiar as 
that of the I'liucc of Wales to London- 
ers, is in an unpretentious structure in 
Ohl iStreet, in the City Koad, — another 
qiiai'ter which to American eyes seems 
shabbv and somewhat degraded. All 
around it are the humble, although 
cleanly, houses of the commoner sort of 
mechanics and laborers, liberally inter- 
sjiersed with the shining gin-palaces 
above alluded to. AVithiu the Hall of 
Science, as j\Ir. Bradlaugh's secular 
cliurcb is called, order, however, reigns 
supreme. There is always a great crowd 
to hear the distinguished orator and 
Kepublicau, who is usually accompanied 
on tlie [ilatform liy Mrs. Besant, whose 
name has lieen so long associated with 
his work, or liysome other of the ladies 
or gentlemen of the advanced Radical 
party in the kingdom. Strangers of all 
sliades of (ipinion are welcome, and now 
and then a sturdy supporter of the Mon- 
archy gets up in his place and indulges 
in an assault on Bradlaugh, if it hap- 
pens to be one of those nights when that 
orator attacks what he calls '• The House 
of lirunswick." Nothing can exceed 
the ingenuity with which Bradlaugh 
manages to escape the accusation of dis- 
loyalty, while al the same time he plainly 
condt'inns Monarchy as a system. To 
be rated as "disloyal" in England is t(.) 
be not respectalile, and w<iiild lie pretty 
nearly equivalent to s<jcial ostracism. 
Bradlaugh is a born controversialist, and 
of no mean order. He should have been 
a iiolitician, and would have been far 
more useful to the state in that capacity 
than in his coveted role of simple agitator 
and social economist. In his oratory, 
which is nearly always striking, some- 
times lirilliant, often profound, there are 
slight traces of an eaily humble origin — 
nameless shibboleths — lapses from pro- 



EUROrE IN STORM AND CALM. 



CO! 



priet}- in speech, which seem to cling 
more closely in England than in America 
to men who have fought their way np 
from the l)ottom. Bradlaugli never for- 
gets what is due to his congregation, 
wiiich gives him an abiding place, a foot- 
hold, in the great city, tlie majority of 
whose inlialiitants is entirely liostile to 
him. But lie Iniows that out Ijevond Lon- 



lays down his accusations of what has 
or has not been clone in Parliament 
House. Then the crowds start in pro- 
cession for Westminster, but are always 
turned back by the police before tiiey 
reach Parliament, and disperse good- 
humoredly, without more than the usual 
]iroi>orti(iu of broken iieads. wlien the 
l>c'>ipk' are "out" in London town. In 




MASS-MEETING ON TRAFALGAR SQUARE. 



don, and outside of the trading class, 
tliere is an iMigland whidi listens to him 
with admiration and resjiect. 

Now and tlien he sallies fortli on 
some great occasion, regardless of tiie 
danger, always prominent in London, of 
butting his head against the law. lie 
summons tiiousai.ds of the [lopulace to 
meet him in Trafalgar square at the foot 
of the Nelson monument, and there he 



Paris this would lie magnified into the 
proportions of a great riot; the prime 
minister would be asked to " explain ; " 
some one would say that a revolution 
was at hand. But it is thought odd if 
on a Lord Mayor's Day, or on the return 
from the l)erl>y, tliere be not some well- 
cracked heads. Tiie blows seem to be 
the result of surplus energy rather than 
a disposition t<,> do injury. I once saw 



fi02 



EUROrE LV STOR,]f AXD CALM. 



in front of Charing Cross half-a-dozen 
rongh young fellows push into the vcrv 
midst of a Lord Mayor's procession, 
striking out right and left, rolling over 
and over in their haste, and coming out 
on the other side all in the best of good 
nature, each having taken the other's 
buffeting as a part of the ceremony. 

Bradlaugh naturally frowns on dis- 
order, and the authorities have no fear 
of his meetings. Half-a-dozen gigantic 
policemen stroll sleepily through the 
crowds, and if a disturbance occurs they 
walk lazily towards it, confident that it 
will have ceased ami that the disturbers 
will l>e dispersed by tiie time the repre- 
sentatives of the law arrive on the scene. 
Bradlaugh at the bar of the House of 
Commons; liradlaugh in the lobby of 
the House, scuftling with the officials who 
exjiel liiui ; Bradlaugh in the courts, 
where he is prosecuted for technical 
irregularities ; Bradlaugh in his own 
vigorous newspaper and in his reported 
lectures, in his books, and on his John- 
street platform, — isa figure which Loudon 
will miss more than it now fancies when 
he has jiassed away. He adds to the 
pi(piancy and pictiu'esqueness of public 
life, and, when the new Democracy has 
got far on its road, he will probably grow 
tamer and more dignified, settling into a 
permanent and comfortable place. At 
present he is ])roud to lie called atheist, 
which dread wind carries with it his cou- 
denniatiou in every orthodox household 
in London. Democrat, Eeiiublican, 
energetic advoc.-ite of temperance, he is 
never hapjiy if n(jt in oppo-ition. When 
the police forbade him to speak within 
the limits of Devonport he made his 
address from a lioaton the waters of the 
Tauiar wliieh was three feet from Dev- 
onport shore, but outside its jurisdic- 
tion ; when the mechanics of London 
h:;d built a hall on a lot of land which 



was suddenly claimed by the landlord 
and adjudged to him by the courts, and 
when this greedy landlord claimed, ac- 
cording to law, the liuilding also, Brad- 
laugh came up with a hundred men who 
carried the linilding off piecemeiil. 
AVheu Disraeli discovered, in 1868, that 
Bradlangh's paper, the " National Re- 
former," had never deposited the £800 
of caution money exacted by the law as 
a preventive against blasphemous or 
seditious publications, and when he 
called on Bradlaugh to pay up or cease 
to |u-int. Bradlaugirs only response was 
the insertion, under the heading of the 
journal, of this phrase, '• A Paper \n\\)- 
lished in Defiance of the Interdiction of 
the English Government." For this he 
was lironght Ijcfore a jury, but the case 
was drop[ied. Ghidstone, when he 
came into the ministry, took it up and 
prosecuted it, but it was taken by Brad- 
laugh to the Suiireme Courts, and there 
the atheistic orator was victorious on 
every point, 

Bradlaugh is verj' poiinlar in Paris, 
where he is not quite understood, but is 
su|)iiosed to be something very radical 
and desperate. He finds a certain sup- 
port among the respectable French Radi- 
cals, for whom his atheism is not so 
shocking as it is to the English Liberals. 
The voters of Northampton, who have 
sent him three times to the House of 
Connuons, believe in and admire him. 
I lis colleague, the witty and wealthy Mr. 
Laliouchcre. part owner of the " Daily 
News " and sole proprietor of the 
sprightly '• Truth," never loses an 
opiiortunity in the House of Commons 
to give Bradlaugh a lift, and does it 
witli much grace and courtesy. 

To bring out the volcanic force which 
lies at the bottom of Bradlangh's tem- 
pei'.ament, he must be deeply moved by 
an attack, not upon himself, Imt upon 



EUIiOPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



some doctrine dear to liini, or some one 
who enunciates tlieories wliieli lie liol<ls 
sacred, lie is the least self-conseions 
of men. If lie allndes to liiniself it is 
only as the representative of others. I 
once heard him in an inspired burst of 
oratoiy, which, like many otlieis, passed 
awav witiiont record, hut it was enough 



street, for when he wants a mighty cou- 
grejiation he goes to the grassy slopes of 
Hyde Park, or stands amid the sculpt- 
ured lions which lie around the Nekon 
JSIemorial. 

Mr. Bradlaugh is no longer looked 
upon hy the Conservatives, since the ad- 
vent of Mr. C'hamlierlaiii, as the chief of 




LUUD MAYOK'ti DAY. — .SAILUKS IN PKOCESSION. 



to give any si)eaker lasting fame. lie 
was describing the persistence of his 
own purpose, and his faith in the ulti- 
mate results towards which he strove. 
Few men in England, few in Euroi)e, 
could have spoken better than he did 
then ; none could have carried in their 
words greater weight of conviction. He 
does not need a larger room than the 
diminutive " Ilall of Science," in John 



terrors. His star has perhaps paled a 
little before the lustre of the career of 
this slight, boyish-looking man, who, 
from the platform in Birniiughara as 
from his place in Parliament, states the 
most revolutionary piopositions in quiet 
and dignified language, adding to them 
that authority wiiich comes from his 
position as a member of the Cabinet. 
" He wore," says Mr. Lacey. in his re- 



(304 



EUROrE IN STORM AXP CALM. 



cently iiulilisln'd iliaiT of tlie two Par- 
lianii'iit>i, '• on the occasion of his first 
aiii)earancc, in 1.S77, in the House, not 
spectacles, with tin or lirass rims, as 
Felix Holt would inevitably have done 
had his sisjlit been impaired, luit an eye- 
glass — positively an eye-glass."' Mr. 
Lucey goes on to inform us that tlie 
Conservatives had a preconceived notion 
of Mr. Chamberlain's appearance and 
manner; that they had " evolved some 
fancy i)icture," and that thej' were 
greatly surprised " at seeing the gonial 
member for Birmingham in a coat, and 
even a waistcoat, and on hearing hiui 
.speak very good English in a (juiet. un- 
<lenionstrative manner." A Radical with 
an eye-glass and a bauii account aiipeared 
to tlie Conservative mind an anomaly, so 
fixed is the impression tliat those who 
ask for land-and-revenue reform are 
greedy and needy Socialists in disguise. 
All the Liberals, without exception, are 
looked upon somewhat askance by the 
Couseivative people in the country dis- 
tricts. I\Ii-. Lacey himself tells us tluit 
an old lady, reared in an atnios|)here 
of cU'ricalisin, on having Gladstone 
pointed out to her among the celebrities 
jit the funeral of a distinguished friend, 
whispered, '"Oh. how dreadful! I do 
trust he is not coming to create a dis- 
turl)auce." 

Public meetings in England are id- 
ways conducted according to certain 
well-estalilislied and long-prat'tised rules, 
but are characterized l)y much the same 
freedom and energy of exiiressiou foun<l 
in America. There is none of tlie cast- 
iron formalism which flourishes on the 
Continent, and the E.iglish plainness of 
expression flourishes to the fullest ex- 
tent. A meeting always has a rest)lii- 
tiou laid before it ; .speeches are then 
made liy the mover and the seconder, after 
which a noble lord, or a Rt. Rev. bishop, 



or a distinguished merchant, is found 
next on the paper, and presents his 
views. Then the resolution is " put," 
and it is at this point that the unex- 
pected speeches happen in aud add to 
the interest. In the Uuiversity meetings 
in the spring ; at the great assemblies in 
St. James's Hall, iu London, St. George's 
Hall, in Liverpool, and that famous 
building where John Bright has for so 
many years held forth liefore his always 
admiring constituents, iu Birmingham, 
the audiences are so similar to our own 
that an American feels at home among 
them. 

At the hospitalile board of the Lord 
Mayor of Loudon, and in the numerous 
corjioration biiihliiigs iu the "city," 
many great speeclies are made yearly. 
The Lord !i\Liyor occupies a lofty })Osi- 
tion, and one wliicli costs him deaily to 
keeji up. But every incumlient of the 
otlice takes a special pride i'l spending 
the £S,0()|| whieli the city gives him for 
his year, ami as ninch more out of his 
own i)ocket. while he is lodged at the 
Mansion House, in entertaining political, 
literary, and couimercial dignitaries aud 
celebrities. He holds the first place 
in the city, after the sovereign, and 
is the only man in England who can say 
wIk'h he is within his own boundaries 
that he has precedence of the Prince 
of Wales. George IV. disiiuted this 
privilege, lint it has never been ques- 
tioned since his time. The Lord Mayor 
is annually chosen, by what is called the 
Livery, in the last days of September iu 
eacli year, and rules a twelvemonth. 
He is ordinarily the senior alderman, 
the city proper having twenty-six wards, 
each returning an alderman, and sub- 
divided into precincts, each of which 
returns a common-council man. The 
Livery men who choose the Mayor are 
the chief dignitaries of the Trade Com- 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



G05 



panies, who furnish .1 voting constitu- 
ency of about ten thousand persons. 
They, with the senior aldermen, choose 
the principal officers of this ancient city 
corporation, the style of which is the 
Maj'or, Commonalty, and Citizens of 
London. Next to the Lord Mayor are 
two sheriffs and a recorder, which latter 



palace, aud appears a little out of place 
in the midst of the intense bustle and 
hurry over the smooth pavements in the 
vicinity of Loml)ard street and the Rank. 
On recei)tion nights, and when gn'ud 
banquets are given, the P^gyptian Hall 
is open. This lofty room can accommo- 
date four hundred guests, and the din- 




DINNER WITH THE LORD MAYOK. 



functionary officiates in the Lord Mayor's 
Court, held at Guildhall. This recorder 
has an unlimited jurisdiction, both legally 
and equitably, for cases within the city 
boundaries. His court is one of the 
curiosities of London, the modes of pro- 
cedure being derived from the ancient 
customs of the city, in large part. The 
Mansion House, the official residence of 
the Lord Mayor, is a I'ather gloomy 
structure, built in imitation of an Italian 



uers are veritable feasts. The Lord 
Mayor and Lady Mayoress — the Mayor 
in his civic robes, with his gold chain of 
office — personally receive their guests, 
who are then assembled in the ban- 
queting-room in the order of precedence 
so rigidly established in England. Be- 
hind the Lord Mayor is a massive row 
of gold and silver plate, the antique 
treasures of mighty London : and near 
him stands a bearded functionary with a 



Gor, 



EVRfirE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



stt'iitorLan voieo, whose duty it is to cry 
tlie toasts as they are ainiouueed. The 
turtle, tile Madeira, and the elarets of 
tlie ;\I:msioii House are far-famed, and 
one sees :it tlie talile of the great JMuyor 
those traditional figures of alderinen 
which he seeks elsewhere in vain. 

The riches of certain of the trailing 
guilds are almost falmlons. Their yearly 
incomes from ancient investments, for 
which they have no jiossilile use unless 
for charity, are, it is s-iid, S(juaiidered in 
costly Innuiuets, and in the accumulation 
of rich stocks of wines ; so that it is not 
straniic if the aWeniicii of Loudon li.-ive 
fat )iannclies and rosy cheeks. There 
arc no less than eighty-two of these city 
companies, each one having ils hall, and 
all lieiug rated in the order of [irecedi'iicy. 
Guildhall, iu King street. Chcapside, 
the to\vii-h:dl of the city of London, is 
the i-liief of all the halls, and is ricii 
with histoi-ic memories. It is in this 
room, wliere the colossal, giants Gog and 
Jlagog keep watch, where six or seven 
thousand people may lie assemliled on 
great occasions; and there, for more 
than lliiee lumdreil and lifty years, the 
inaimuration dinners of the Lord iNLivors 
of London h;i\c' taken lilace. There 
the .Sovereign iline.s on the Lord Mayor's 
Day which succeeds liis or her coioiia- 
tion. There (Jeorge I\'. met with Alex- 
ander of IJussia and Frederick William 
III of I'l'U-sia. at a great dinnei'. wliicli 
cost fl'.').lMM), and at which, it is said, 
gold and silver plate woitli £201). ()():) 
was employed. There have lieen hel 1 
the sui-cessive dinners which have marked 
the progress of tlie Reform hills since 
is.ll : and when the mighty hall is 
lighted U|i with the ^ix or seven thousand 
gas-jets, arranged in stars, mottoes, and 
devices, and when at the dinner ou 
Lord ^Liyoi's Day. the ]\Liyor ami his 
guests are marshalled to the lianquetliy 



the sound of trumpets, and the twelve 
hinidred invited guests sit down to din- 
ner, the siiectacle is highly imposing. 
This dinner annually costs £1,-300. of 
which the city gives £200, the Lord 
j\Liyor half, an<l the two sheriffs the 
other half of 1 he remainder. Mr.Timfis. 
in his •' Curiosities of London." tell us 
tliat for this colossal feast forty huge 
turtles are slaughtered, and the serving of 
the dinner rc(|uiies two hundred servants 
and eiiiht thousand plate changes. 

The most ancient of the great city 
companies is the mercers, whose char- 
ter was granted in \?>'Xo. Next come 
the groci-rs ; then the fish-mongers; 
then the goldsmitlts, skinners, and 
liakcis. wliose charters are earlier, hut 
whose rank seems to have been deter- 
mined as less. Then come the saddlers, 
cai'peiiteis, weavers, and parish clerks. 
Out of the Mercers' Company have come 
king.s. princes, ninety-eight Lord Mayors, 
and the illustrious Whittington and 
Gresham. ll is said that the Fish- 
!>rongcrs' Company imichascd the land 
near London Bridge, on which stands 
one of ils halls, at the enormous rate of 
£G:)0,000 per ai-re. This comiiany has 
furnished fifty Lord JLiyors to London. 
The han(|ueting-halls, the museums of 
|ilate and freasiu-e. the festival and pict- 
ure-roDins of these ancient companies 
givi', as nothing else can, an idea of the 
acM'umulafiou of wealth and the splendor 
brought together on the dingy banks of 
ihe Thames. 

The '.Itli of Nc.iveinlier, generally 
fog'iv or muildv and rainy, is Lord 
Mayor's ].)ay in l^oudoii. Then the 
newly elected functionary proceeds from 
the Mansion House Westward, along 
Fleet street, and the Strand, past the 
site of old Temple Rar (which was 
demolished a few years ago), on to 
Westminster, where he takes the oath 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM 



mi 



before the Baron of the Exchequer. In holil are no less than twenty gentlemen, 

recent years the procession has varied Tlie ]\Iansion House is rent free, and the 

much in character, according to the jilate and ornaments are worth £3T),000 

fancy of the mayor-elect. Sonielinies it or £4(\000. The Lord Mayor keeps 

is military, allegorical, or historical in three tables, a line retinue of servants, 

character. But one is sure to see Gog and in the old da\s. like a very monarch. 




THE THAMES FROM THE TOP OF S.\INT PAUL'S. — WESTMINSTER PALACE IN" THE 

DISTANCE. 



and IMagog, and a good fight, liefore the 
procession has i»assed by the point from 
which he views it. The Mayor and Lady 
Mayoress ride in their state coach, 
followed by the sheriffs in their stale 
coaches, and by aldermen. 

The city gives the Lord Mayor his 
co.ich, but not his horses. He is ex- 
pected to supply the Lady Mayoress with 
her carriages and horses. lu his house- 



he ke|)t his own particular fool. He is 
chief butler to the Sovereign at coronation 
feasts. On state occasions, he wears a 
massive silk robe, richly embroidered ; 
at courts and civic meetings, a violet 
silk robe with fur, and bars of black 
velvet ; and when he presides at the 
Criminal Court, or on the bench at the 
]Mansion House, a scarlet robe with furs 
and borders of black. As the repre- 



608 



EUROPE f.V STORM AND CALM. 



sentativeof England's coiniiicicial power 
and wealth, he relieves the cinirt of 
niueh expense and trouble, and allows 
those distinguished aristocrats, who are 
removed by several geueratious from the 
atuios]jhere of ti'ade, the privilege of 
not coming in contact with those who are 
still carving out their fortunes, or whose 
grandfathers carved them out for them, 
by creating a special court for this latter 
class. 






ill 






i i'liiiiiiij 





',' 







ARUIIBISIIUl' MANNING PREACHING TKMPEI!ANCE. 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



G09 



CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE. 

'The City." — Tlio Daily Piltrvimajre to It. — E^;a<'t Limits of the City District. — Demolition of Temple 
Bav. — The Gi-itfin. — Fleet Street. — Chaucer's Battle in this Famous Avenue. — The Newsp.aper 
Rcion. — The Temple. — The Inn*. — The Law Students. — St. Paul's and its Neighhorhood. — 
The Crypt in St. Paul's. — The Puhlisher's Haunts. — The Bank. — Lumhaid Street. — Christ's Hos- 
pital.- The "Times.* 



FROM eight to ten o'clock on every 
morning of tlie weelf, except Siui- 
day, liundreds of trains and onniil)nses 
— trains in subterranean avenues, on the 
street level, and on high viaducts, from 
which one may loolc down upon the attic 
windows of acres of houses — carry the 
commercial and professional classes of 
Tx)ndon into what is called "The City." 
Witliin tliis tract is concentrated three- 
fourths of the intellectual and financial 
activity of the largest city in the world. 
From ten o'clock to four tiie vast avenues 
are crowded with hurrying, anxious folk. 
primly dressed, polite and deferential 
even in their haste, knowing the value 
of a minute and exacting its full worth, 
settling transactions which involve thou- 
sands, and sometimes millions, in inter- 
views that last barely half an hour, and 
exercising influence over dozens of small 
countries scattered up and down tlie 
mighty seas. The city man is aware 
of his own importance in the world's 
economy, and is gifted with becoming 
dignity. He is hard to get at in the 
first instance, — seems inclined rather to 
repel than demand Inisiness, as befits 
one wiio may take his choice of the best 
enterprises set on foot ; but, once having 
given his attention, he decides and acts 
with the greatest swiftness. 

The " City." so called, is that [lart of 
London which, in the old days, was 
within the walls, together with what was 



known as " The Liberties," wiiicii im- 
mediately surrounded tiiem. "The Lib- 
erties," says Mr. Timlis in his " Ciui- 
osities of London," " are encompassed 
l)y the line of separation, the boundary 
between them and the county of Middle- 
sex, and marked b\' the Bars, wliich 
formerly consisted of posts and chains, 
but are now denoted by lofty stone obe- 
lisks, bearing the eitj- arms, which m.ay 
be seen, eastward, in White Chtxpel, the 
Minories and Bishopsgate street ; north- 
ward, in Caswell street, at tiie end of 
Fair alley, and in St. .Tolm's street, and 
westward, at Middle row, HoUiorn ; 
while at the west end of Fleet street, the 
boundary is the stone gate-waj' called 
Temple Bar." Tliis old stone gate-way is 
gone now, and, had it remained, it would 
have seemed insignificant enougli under 
the shadow of the .somewhat gloomy 
and ill-arranged palace where London 
has finally placed the numerous tribmials 
which were formerly crowded into small 
and old-fashioned rooms in the neigh- 
borhood of Westminster. Near where 
Temple Bar stood, at the entrance into 
Fleet street from the Stranil, is a me- 
morial monument with a griffin sprawl- 
ing on its top, and with bas-reliefs, which 
the populace, urged l)V some curious 
feeling difficult to explain, took delight 
in breaking shortly after they were placed 
in position. 

Fleet street, with its thousand ancient 



OlO 



EC ROPE IX STOItM AX II CAI.M. 



souvenirs ul' liistorir cxliiliitioii ami (ms- 
sessioiis, and with its associations with 
Goldsmith and Johnson, is the chief 
vendezvons of joui'ualisni in Loni.lon. 
Thei'e are the otlici-s of all the iireat 
newsliajiers, exeepl ihe " Tinu'S." •■ The 
Daily Telegraph" and --Tlie l)aily 
News " have palatial alxides : ami the 
writei's of the aitieles which rno\e the 
thonghl of Kn^lan<l meet to disiaiss 
politics and literature in dusty, veneralile 
taveins, whose owners are [iroud of the 
memories which their houses evoke, and 
tiu'ii them to exei'Uent ai'count. . In 
Wine-olliee eom-t, just off Fleet street. 
is the •■ Old Cheshire Cheese." where the 
favored visitor is allowed to sit in a chair 
from which Dr. .lohnson thundered forth 
his matrniloiiueiil si'utences ; and close hy 
is the house where (Joldsmilh lived in 
ITlil, when Johnson lirst visited him. 
.lohnson's house, in the coui't named 
after him, from which he used to march 
forth on his stately i)romenades along 
Fleet street, is also close at hand. The 
house in Bolt court, where he <lied in 
1774, was liurned more than half a 
century ago. Chaucer and Milton hoth 
lived at times in Fleet street ; and tliere is 
a pretty story told of Chaucer's once 
having soundly thrashed a Fnuieiscan 
friar in the eelebratccl avenue, when he 
was a student of the Inner Temple, and 
lieiug ihied two shillings for the offence. 
The taverns and coffee-houses are usually 
to he found in dark little passages or 
alley-ways, and one instinctively looks for 
costumes of past ages, and is siu'|irised 
to see the quaint rooms crowded with 
gentlemen sprucely dressed in the latest 
Cashion of the West End. Fleet .street 
is almost the onlj' portion of the city in 
which there is a consideralile movement 
at night. During the sessions of Parlia- 
ment, or in exciting war times, proces- 
,sious of cabs are constautly moving 



hctwa'en Westminster and tlie newspaper 
olliccs ; hnt hy one o'clock in the morn- 
ing nothing is heard save the heating of 
the great [jresses, deep down in tlie sub- 
cellars, undi'r Ihe nniddy streets. Fleet 
street is oftL'u called the cradle of steam- 
printing. There IScasley. Woodfall, and 
Taylor, hy their joint exertions, finally 
succeeded in doing cylindrical [irinting. 
This was innnediatcly adoiitcd by the 
■• Times," in 1S14. 

At the upiier end of Fleet street there 
is a gate-way t(j the Inner Temple ; and 
no ramble in London is more interesting 
than that through the tortuous lanes and 
little streets, and between the houses in 
whieii the lawyers and law students of 
the metropolis reside. Out of Fleet 
stri'ct leads Chancery lane, tilled with 
the ollices of barristers and legal print- 
ers. ()n the west side of this street is 
Lincoln's Inn. In these old courts of 
chamlicrs. which were mainly liuilt in 
the lime of James L, was the ancient 
hall in which the Commons of the 
socit'ty used to meet for their masks and 
Christmas fi'stivities, when the benchers 
laid aside their dignity and the students 
danced before their judges. The new 
hull and library. — nolile buildings of 
the Tudor style, — the conncil-room, are 
all most interesting, and one cannot but 
womlcr that so serene and traiKpiil a 
retreat, like that of some old university, 
has been preserved in the very heart of 
one of the busiest of modern cities. 
The new hall in Lincoln's Inn has a 
vaulted kitchen f(jrty-five feet square 
and twenty-five feet high. Attached to 
it and adjoining are i-ellars eapiable of 
containing one hundred pipes of wine ; 
whence we may conclude that good 
cheer reigns in Tjincoln's Inn. Farther 
away, on the north side of Ilolborn, is 
Gray's Inn, also a noted rendezvous of 
the legal fraternity, possessing an oval 



EUROPE IX STOIIM AXD CALM. 



Cll 



Pf!!iri(iiif 



hall, built X\n\'v huiulrod years :i2;o, with tlu^ successful students. Nevortlieless, 
a great oalveu roof diviikMl into seven persons may still be called to the bar re- 
bays by Gothic arched ribs. All tlie in- oardless of the lectures and examinations ; 
mates of these four inns of court — the but, in all cases, keeping Commons by 
two Temples, Lincoln's Inn, and Gray's dining in the hall is absolutely necessary. 
Inn — have the exclusive power of prac- These dinners in the various halls are 
tising as advocate or council 
in superior courts. Tiie stu- 
dent who wislies to gain ad- 
mittance to any of these has 
a sharp fight for tjie [irivilege ; 
but once admitted he is en- 
titled to the usi' of the lilira- 
ries, "to a seat in the churt-h 
orchapel, and tohave hisname 
set down for Chambers." 
" He is then required to keep 
Connnons by dining in the 
hall twelve terms (four terms 
occurring each year), on com- 
mencing which he must de- 
posit with the treasurer £100, 
to be retained witli interest, 
until he is aiUcd. But resident 
members of tiie universities 
are exempt from this deposit. 
The student must also sign a 
bond, with sureties, for the 
payment of his Connnons and 
term fees. In all llie inns 
no person can be railed unless 
he is al)ove twenty-one years 
of age, and three j-ears' stand- 
ing as a student. A Council 
of Legal Education lias been 
estalilishcd by the four inns 
of court, to superintend the 
subject of the education of 
students for tiie bar, and, 

by order of tins council, law lectures very curious. At five or half-past five 
are given by learned professors at the o'clock in the afternoon tlic barristers 
four inns, all of which any student and students assemble in their gowns, 
of any of the inns may attend. The and the benchers proceed in procession 
examinations also take place, and to tlie dais. The stewaril then strikes 
scholarships, certificates, and otiier the table three times, grace is said by 
marks of approbation are the rewards of the treasurer or senior bencher present, 




AT THE I'UXfH AND JUDV SHOW. 



(112 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CAL.U. 



uiiil the dinner begins. Eacli table is 
arraiigcil by messes, and to eaeh mess is 
allowed a bottle of port wine. The 
dinner is nsually simple, but tiiere are 
many aneient formularies and ceremo- 
nies, some of whieh provoke a smile 
to-day, like that oliserved in the Inner 
Temple on the 2",)tli of May, wiien each 
member drinks to the happ_y restoration 
of Cliarles II. in a golden cup <jf sack. 
At Gra3''s Inn they occasionally toast 
the memory of Queen Elizabeth. Now 
and then the younger students from 
these vast ranges of buildings called 
"Courts" hold high wassail in the 
pulilic houses and queer old taverns on 
Fleet street, and show that Englishmen 
of to-day drink as deeply as Englishmen 
of Dr. Johnson's time. 

The neighborhood of St. Paul's is one 
of the most interesting quarters of the 
city. St. Tanl's is the Pantheon of 
iMigkind's naval and military heroes, 
and tlie burial-place of many of her 
greatest painters. In the cry|it lies Sir 
('hristo|iher Wren, who liuilt tiie great 
chnrcli, and wliose handiwork is visilile 
everywhere in tlie city ; Sir Joshua 
Keynolds, immortalized by Flaxman's 
statue as much as liy his own work ; 
I'arry, Opie, Lawrence, and Van Dyck ; 
Turner. West, and Milton Archer Slice; 
in the middle of the crypt, under an altar 
tomb, are the remains of the great Nelson. 
In this crypt, for more than two j'ears, 
lay tlie body of the Duke of Welling- 
ton, the coffin placed ui)on the top of the 
sarcophagus which eoveied that of Nel- 
son ; but now the old Duke reposes in a 
porpiiyry tomb, sculi)tured out of a 
single liloek, weighing more than seventy 
tons, and placed upon a massive liase- 
ment of Aberdeen granite, at each corner 
of wliicli is sculptured the head of a 
guardian lion. Tliis severely noble 
tomb is far more impressive than that of 



Napoleon I. at the Lifcdidos in Paris. 
In the crypt of St. Paul's stands the 
state car on which the body of WeUing- 
ton was conveye<l to the cathedral at 
his funeral. At the Chapter House of 
this cliurch, every time a new political 
l)arty assemliles, there is a kind of new 
clerical parliament, composed of a dean, 
four canons, twelve minor canons, six 
lay ligures. and twelve choirists. Here 
the Lord ^Mayor's cha[ilaiu preaches his 
annual state sermon, and on the anni- 
versary of tlie great fire, lOGG. In May, 
during the anniversary festivals, nolile 
concerts are given in the church, and 
the annual gathering of the charity chil- 
dren, eight or ten thousand in number, 
held in St. Paul's iu June, is one of the 
prettiest and most pleasing of English 
pulilic assemblies. Thither go the 
judges and law-oflicers, in long proces- 
sion, for blessing on their labors Iiefore 
the beginning of the annual sessions. 

Back among numerous streets and un- 
romantio places in the neighborhood of 
St. Paul's are the [inlilisliers. One of 
the most famous streets in wliich the 
purveyors of literatni'e abound is Pater- 
noster Row, so called from the sellers of 
rosaries and the text-writers who lived 
there in the time of Henry IV. From 
Paternoster Row and its immediate vicin- 
ity go out most of tlie great works which 
have done so mucii during the Victorian 
period to ennol)le English literature. 
The London publisliers do not indulge, 
like those in Paris, in costly and luxuri- 
ous offices, with tai)estries and ])ictures 
and hri(:-<%-hrcc. They do their work in 
business hours, in plain and simjily fur- 
nished rooms, and reserve their comfort 
and luxiu'y for the suburban homes, lo 
which they hasten as soon as four o'clock 
sounds from the church-towers of the 
citv. Tiu' man who at one o'clock 
niav be bjimd lunchini; in a modest little 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



613 



rookery in some 1iack alley, in a daik, 
open stall, where there is no cloth upon 
the table and where napkins are un- 
known, sits down to dinner at seven 
o'clock in his nolile country-house, look- 
ing out upon a splendid lawn, and does 
his evening work in a costly lilirary. 
London is their rendezvous, and nothing- 
else. A solicitor will receive you in a 
back office simple as that of a Ilelnew 



labor ; black care goes home with them, 
and lurks beside the turtle-soup and the 
bottle of old port on their dinner-table. 
In front of the Mansion House, and 
past the Royal Elxchange, and down 
Threadneedle street, in the neighbor- 
hood of the First Bank of f^ngland, 
whose structures cover more than four 
acres, there is a continual rush of teams, 
carriages, dravs, omnibuses, and otlicr 




SATURDAY NIUUI' IN WOUKMA.N'S yl AlU Kit 



retail dealer just beginning business ; 
but, if he invites you to bring your 
papers to his house, you will find he 
lives like a merchant prince. Every city 
man sacrifices about two hours daily in 
going to and from his business. When 
the trains leave the city in the afternoon 
they arc crowded with men who are 
studying briefs, prospectuses, and memo- 
randa, which they extract from little 
black bags, jilaced carefully beside them. 
One feels that Iheir going into the city 
has been but the beeinningof their dav's 



vehicles of almost every description, 
from early morning until after l)usiness 
hours ; and through this moving mass 
hundreds of thousaTids of pedestrians 
l)ick their way with the deftness born of 
long practice. Near by is Lombard 
street, so called from the old •' Longo- 
liardi," the rich bankers who settlecl in 
that district of London and grou|)ed their 
countrymen around them before the 
time of Edward IL There also wei'c 
the goldsmiths, who lent money on plate 
and jewels, an<l from the badge of the 



(114 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



Lonil)ar(ls, or Ldiiiiitbanli, the three 
golden i)ilis of the IMediei family, we get 
our modern pawnbroker's sign. "The 
<lays have long passed when," as we 
are told in the " Life and Times of Sir 
Thomas Gresham," " all sorts of gold 
and silver vessels were exposed to sale, 
as well as ancient and modern coins, in 
sneh quantities as nnist surprise a man 
the first time he sees and considers 
them." The wealth of the men of Lom- 
liard street does not to-day consist of 
golden chains, like that of Gresham, as 
was found to he the case after his death. 
Hut gold and silver lacenien still hail 
tlieir places of linsiness in the street at 
tiie lieiiinning of this century. For 
more than five and a half centuries this 
celelii-ated avenue has been devoted to 
finance ; and in the long and narrow 
streets, with theii' uloomy courts which 
radiate from it, are the business olllees of 
some f>f the most jiowerfnl commercial 
lionses in the world. The first idea of 
the London Exchange came fi'om Sir 
Richard Gresham, who proposed to 
C'romucll '• to make aiilace for merchants 
to re|)air unto in Lombert Streete." 
Underneath the dn^t of this avenue are 
the ruins of Roman houses, and many 
Roman remains have been found. Thry 
are the last lot unearthed, and are sup- 
posed to indicate that ihey belonged to 
the jieriod when London was Imrned by 
Boadicea. The value of the "iround in 
this neighliorhood may be adjiidued bv' 
the following instance, which Mi'. Timlis 
gives us in hisvalualile book on T^ondon : 
A piece of ground at the corner of 
Lombard street, formerly the site of 
Spooner & C'o.'s banking house, was letto 
the Agra & Masterman's Bank, for nine 
years, at f (id. 000 per year. Owing to a 
change in tlie management of that bank, 
it was next sold to the City Otiiees Bank, 
at a premium of £70,000 sterling. Later 



on, a building was erected upon it, at a 
cost of nearly £70,000, the gross rental 
of which is estimated at £22,000, — the 
London and Canada Bank paying £1 2.- 
000 for the ground floor and liasement. 
It is not easy to get Iniilding sites in the 
centre of the banking world. The Mer- 
cantile and Exchange Bank purchased 
premises in Lombard street for £20,0it0. 
The directors of the bank then let the 
first floor of the house to the Asiatic 
Banking Corporation for £1,000 per 
year. The amalgamation of the London 
Bank of Scotland with the Mercantile 
and Exchange Bank having made it 
necessary to value the premises in Lom- 
bard street, the directors of the Bank of 
Scotland paid £10,000 to the share- 
holders in the ^Mercantile and Exchange 
Bank as their jiroportion of the increased 
value <.)f the iiremises, which are now 
estiinated as worth £-10.000. The value 
was thus doubled within a year. 

Every week-day, and !it all hours of 
the day, — • even later hours than those 
kept by the regular city man, — hosts of 
able people from all corners of tiie earth 
flock into the city, bearing in their busy, 
and often aching, brains, schemes which 
they hope to float in the inspiring atmos- 
phere of this commerci.al centre, and by 
which they lio|)e to cnricli tliemselves. 
Among these waiting and hoping folk 
the Americans are very prominent. 
They are of all types : the breezy, fresh, 
and entlmsiastic Western man, who, 
despite the English assertion that gush 
and a conlidential air will kill any eu- 
teriirise offered in the city, l)ehaves 
in unconventional London in the same 
lioistcrons and buoyant way that he 
wouhl at home ; the sharp, quiet-man- 
nered financier, who has come determined 
to measure capacities with the magnates 
of Europe's financial head-quarters ; the 
wild-cat si)ecnlators, who find persons 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



615 



resembling them in the London raailcet, 
and who slowly lay their plans for gull- 
ing the public ; and, fmaily, the large- 
brained but timid inventors, — tiie men 
with every kind of novelty from per- 
petual motion to a new barbed-wire 
fence, — all learning by liitter experience 
how hard it is to turn the current of 
suspicious capital into their own jiartieu- 
lar channels The Odysseys of these 
speculative-minded men, amid the rocks 
and waves of London, are often attended 
with pathos, and sometimes terminate in 
tragedy. '• Hope deferred maketh the 
heart sick," and as thei-e are at all times 
from six to seven thousand im[)ortant 
schemes waiting attention, it is not odd 
that the many thousands of less impor- 
tant enterprises are swept aside, forgot- 
ten, or readily dismissed. It is precisely 
the uncertainty, the delightful suspense. 
the dreamy anticipation of success, which 
tempts so many foreign investors to stay 
on and on in London until their credit. 
their courage, and often their healtli, liavc 
departed. They arrive fresh with vigor, 
and will tell yon they are well aware of 
all the obstacles, have profited by the 
experience of others, and have come to 
stay. And they do stay, moving fioin 
the huge and glittering hotels, in wiiicii 
they at first installed themselves, into 
the more modest quiet of the West End 
square ; then into cheaper lodgings ; 
again to second-rate taverns ; finally, 
into the country, but clinging on with 
perhaps no otiier capital than a good 
hat and umbrella and their ever-seduc- 
tive address, determined against fate. 
Out of this throng of unsuccessful people 
sometimes leaps to the very height of 
financial victory a man wlio had seemed 
marked for disaster. Some lucky chance 
has brought him to the front, and all the 
others, seeing tlie good turn fortune has 
done him, struggle on, using an energy 



and ]3atieuce which, in more legitimate 
pursuits at home, would have made them 
solid fortunes. 

The Royal Exchange is imposing, and 
is filled with memorials of Sir Thomas 
Gresham, who cariied out the project 
which his father had recommended to 
Cromwell, and had his famous crest, a 
grassho[)per, i)laced over tlie first ex- 
change in Lombard street. Then the 
"Burse," as it was called, was placed 
in CornhiU, whither, in l.'JTO, came to 
the dedication, " 'midst the ringing of 
bells in every part of the city, the 
Queen's majesty, attended with tlie 
nol)ility, from her house in the Stiand, 
called Somerset House, and entered the 
city by Temple Bar, through l'"l('('t 
street. Cheap, and so by the north side 
and the Burse, through Threadneed'e 
street, to Thomas (iresham's house, in 
Bisliopsgate street, where she dined." 
Sir Thomas Gresluim died liefore lie 
had half completed his plan for enrich- 
ing the Exchange with statues. This 
building was destroyed in the gieat liie 
in London, and, oddly enough, the 
founder's statue was the only one which 
did not fall into the flames. The sec- 
ond Exchange was opened at the close 
of the seventeenth century, being built 
by the city and the Mercers' Company. 
It was a noble strncture, well studdeil 
with statues of kings. But fliis in its 
turn was burned in 1K;?8, and as the fire 
reached the clock-tower at midnight the 
bells were lieard chiming the familiar 
air, "There is nae luck about the 
house." The present I^xchange. dedi- 
cated by Queen Victoria, in 1.S44, is 
renowned for its portico, adorned with 
Westmacott's sculpture. On this por- 
tico is the inscription: "The earth is 
the Lord's and the fulness thereof." 
Mr. Henry George, while addressing an 
oiicn-air meeting recentlv in front nf 



G16 EUROPE L\ STORM AM) CALM. 

tlie Miuision House, pointi'd to tliis nionts of tho West Find, the city restan- 

iiisfi'iptioii on tile Roynl Exchange anil rutciir has counted his cash and closed 

.said it shonhl read :'• The earth is the for the night. Tlie Cit}' is the best 

landlord's, and the fulness thereof." paved, the cleanliest kept part of the 

In tills buililiug- are Lloyd's subscrip- metropolis, and contains many of the 

tion-rooins, where meet the noted iiier- most brilliant shops in London. In 

chants, shii)-owners, underwriters, in- Cheapside, in the Poultry, in the neigh- 

surance, stock, and exchange brokers borhood of the General Post-ollice, in 

of London. Lloyd was an old coffee- King Williani and in Cannon streets, 

house keeper, from whose establish- a stranger ma}' shop to great ad- 

nient at the corner of Abchurch lane, vantage. In Cannon street a frag- 

Lombard street, Steele used to indite nient of the London Stone, supposed to 

bis ei)istles to the " Tatler." be the great central mile-stone from 

The liauk of England looks like a which the British high roads radiated, 

great fortress, and it is well jirotected and to have been placed in its present 

exlernally from attack. At night there location more than a thousand years ago, 

is a military force on duty, and clerks is still to be seen. It is mentioned as a 

are also detailed to keep a night-watch, landmark in a list of rents belonging to 

There is little danger, however, that Christ's Church in Canterbury, in the 

the masses, whether excited by l\Ir. time of King Atlielstan, who reigned in 

Henry (ieorge or any other agitator, will the tenth century. 

ever attempt an assault upon the ven- One of the noblest charities in the 
erablc and exalted liuancial institution, city of London is Christ's Hospital, 
It is not far from this centre of com- which was due to the exertions of the 
mercial Loudon to the water-side, and good citizens to provide for a large 
the great Custom-house, with its majestic homeless population. Henry VIII. as- 
front, five hundred feet long, with a sisted this work by large grants, and 
broad esplanade between it and the young King Edward VL gave the hos- 
rivcr, and to the long avenues, literally pital its name. The hospital was not 
crammed with heavy drays, bearing to originally, as it is to-day, a school ; but 
and fro every conceivable sort of mer- at all times its directors rescued young 
chandise from the ships which crowd the children from the streets to shelter, feed, 
docks. Here and there throughout the and clothe them. For more than three 
city rises a fine building devoted entirely hundred years Christ's Hospital has 
to the providing of refreshment. The been a school, and is proud of its old 
city restaurant-keepers acquire fortunes traditions and its ancient uniform, 
in a very short time. Their custom is Many a fashionable mother presents with 
certain. Yet they court it by bestowing pride her sou attired in the long blue 
upon their customers every possible com- coat and yellow stockings, and •wearing 
fort and luxuiy. Fi'om ten o'clock until the livery girdle which all the children 
four these great restaurants and the leceived at Christ's Ilosiiital must wear, 
numerous clulis scattered throughout the They go bareheaded in all times and 
city (piarter are o\ crtlowiiig with hun- seasons; and one of these boys, on his 
gry people ; but after sunset few peoi)le vacation visit to the Continent, is as 
linger, and by the time the lamjis are lit much followed and stared at as a lion 
in tlie gorgeinis gastroiKJuiic estalilish- or an elepliant would l)e. There are 



EUROPE /.V STORM AXP CALM. 



017 



but a few arelies and a bit of a cloistor 
of the old building remaining. Many 
of the oldest buildings have been re- 
slored. From Newgate street the pub- 
lic ean look in upon the great hall, and, 
on any Friday, may get admittance to 
see the children having their supper in 
this hall, the eight or nine hundred boys, 
in quaint costumes, going carefully o\er 
the various ceremonies which have come 
down to them from the sixteenth century. 
The Charter House, in Aldersgate street, 
is another noble charity, founded by a 
London merchant, where eighty [lension- 
ers live together in collegiate style, and 
where forty poor boys are annually re- 
ceived for free education. This Charter 
House, which has given to the world Sir 
William Hlackstone, Addison, Richard 
Steele, JohnAVesley, George Grote, and 
Bisho]) Thirhvall, has an income of 
£29,000 sterling annually. Yet another 
college is that named after Sir Thomas 
Gresham, where lectures are annually 
delivered on different sciences, free of 
any charge to the public. 

Christ's Hospital is filled with memories 
of Coleridge, Charles Lamb, and Leigh 
Hunt, all of whom are blue-coat boys. 
It has many ancient privileges, such as 
that of addressing the Sovereign on the 
occasion of his or her coming into the 
City to partake of the hospitalities of 
the corporation. Presentations to this 
school are greatly coveted. The insti- 
tution has five hundred governors, headed 
by the royal family, and many of these 
have the privilege of presenting pupils. 

Not far from Blackfriar's Bridge and 
looming np a conspicuous monument as 
the traveller from west to east enters 
the domains of the City by way of the 
embankment, is the office of "The 
Times," which is now in the hundredth 
year of its existence, and which was 
never more brilliant and prosperous than 



at present. "The Times" is the epit- 
ome of English achievement, day by 
day, and has the utter lack of self-con- 
scionsness and the quiet dignity which 
are so noticeable in an Englishman ; and 
it also has the abundant confidence and 
the utter inability to look at any subject 
from other than an Englisli [loint <if 
view. In its huge red brick l)uil(ling 
"The Times" sits enthroned a pohitive 
authority, against wliicli many cavil, but 
none d;ire rebel. The (iresent ()fli<'c 
stands uijon the sight of the old ^lou- 
astery of Blaekfriars, in Printing House 
Square. Mr. W. Fiaser Rae, a noted 
English pul)licist, has recently given to 
the world a brilliant monogram on tlir 
centenary of " The Times," in wliich he 
traces through a hundred years tiie 
course of the great paper. Perhajis no 
incident in the history of this journal 
is more striking than its exposure of a 
v.ast conspiracy that had been formed 
for swindling foreign bankers out of 
£1 ,000,000 sterling. " Tiie Times " was 
quite successful in the unearthing of this 
fraud, and its services to commerce are 
commemorated by a tablet in the Ko3al 
Exchange. There have been three gen- 
erations of Walters, proprietors and 
conductors of "The Times," which is a 
magnificent property. In the printing 
of this journal, vt'hich sometimes com- 
prises sixteen large and well-printed 
pages, a perfected press, invented by 
the third Walter, is used. The main 
features of this are simplicity and com- 
pactness, combined with enormous speed 
in working. A large reel, covered with a 
canvas roll of paper, revolves at the 
one end ; at the otiier end the printed 
sheets issue, folded and printed ready 
for the publisher, at the rate of fifteen 
tiiousand copies per hour. The paper 
on the reel is four miles long. In less 
tlian half an hour these four miles of 



()18 



EVROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



paper :iiv converted into uewspapci's. the civilized uv partly civilized world, 

" Every night," says Mr. Rac, '• wljeii constitute one of the most wonderful 

the Walter presses arc running in 'The intclieetual acliiexenieuts of modern 

Times ' office, a quantity of i)aiier weigh- times. Nn matter how tremendous the 

iiig ten tons, and representing a roll one expense and effort attendant upon the 

hundred and sixty miles long, is thus getting of telegrap)hic news, '-The 

transformed into newspapers." The Times" never blusters aljout these 




SAI.\'ATION' AUMY. 



cditoi- of " The Times " is no longer a 
one-man power, striking terror because 
of his very niystery. ^luch of the work 
of decision is done in council ; Imt there 
is still an enormous amount <A' <letai', 
which falls npcin tlie shuulders of the 
chief; and it is ni> secret that Mr. 
Clienery, the late cditur, wlm has been 
succeeded by the able ^Ir. Buckle, died 
of overwork. The teU'gra|)hic pages of 
''The Times." embodying as they fre- 
((Ueutly do on a. Monday morning, 
lengthy dispatchi'S from every part of 



things, lint prints, in its bright, clear 
type, on its innnaculate [)aper, the news 
of the world. 

There are always '-causes" to take 
up nmeli of the attention of the [lapers of 
the great citv. and amoug the late^t is 
the movement foi' perpetual religious 
excitement known as the •■ Salvation 
Army." The military nomenclalure of 
its machinery uuisks a worthy scheme 
for reaching a class that is not touched 
'by the churches. It is not wisely man- 
aged, but it does much good. 



EUROPE IN SrOliM AXD CALM. 



GISJ 



CIIAPrER SEVENTY. 



The Smoke and Dirt of London. — Tcmpcratni-e . — Pool' People and Dii'ty People. — The London 
Season.^ Wliat it Is, and What it Means. — The Raecs. — The Derhy. — Cioinfr Down to 
Epsom. — The Return. — Goodwood. — Ascot. — The Royal Academy. — .John Millais. — .Sh' 
Frederick Leiahton. — Music and Musicians. 



AT six o'clock on a June niorniiiy; 
the stranger who takes a walk 
throuii'h London can scarceh' realize that 
it is tlic same city, in the same country, 
wliicli he visited on four o'clock of a 
November afternoon. Before the mil- 
lions of fires are lighted, and the thick, 
lilack smoke begins to pour out from the 
chimneys, the soft gray of the skies, and 
the grayish-brown of the noble lines of 
buildings, walls, and monuments, and 
the great houses and bouquets of trees 
and evergreen foliage, harmonize per- 
fectly. In this tranf)uil morning hour 
London would be, if its streets were 
clean, almost as beautiful as Paris. But 
tlie smoke, meeting the mist, hovers in 
the street, as soon as the thousands of 
founderies, lireweries, manufactories of 
all sorts, and the domestic hearths have 
lighted their fires ; and from nine o'clock 
in the morning until late at night Lon- 
don has a climate peculiar to itself. 
"The temperature of the air in the 
metropolis," says Mr. Timbs, " is raised 
by the artificial sources of heat existing 
in no less tlian two degrees, on the aver- 
age mean, above that in its immediate 
vicinity." All the artificial sources of 
heat, with the exce[)tion of the domestic 
fires, continue in full operation through- 
out the summer. 

It would seem as if the excess of the 
London temperature is still greater in 
June than in January, but the fact is 
otherwise. The excess of the city tem- 



perature is greater in winter, antl at 
tliat period seems to belong entirely to 
the nights, which average consideralily 
warmer than in the country, while the 
heat of the days, owing, without doubt, 
to the interception of the solar r.ays by 
the constant fall of smoke, falls, on a 
mean, about one-third of a degree short 
of that in the oi)en plains. " Tiiere are 
hundreds of places in London," says 
Mr. Timlis. '• into which the wind never 
finds admission ; and even on the wider 
streets there are many through which a 
free cm-rent is rarely blown. It is only 
in the night, when combustion, in some 
measure, ceases, and tlie whole surf.-ice 
of the earth i.s cooled, that the gases 
are gradually removed and the whole 
atmosphere of the city is brought into 
an equality." 

If London could dis]iense with the 
burning of coal it would be tiansformed, 
in less than a month, from one of the 
smokiest and dirtiest cities in the woild 
into one of the most picturesque and 
beautiful. The mists and fogs which 
visit the metropolis would lend an addi- 
tional picturesqneness to tlie old and 
mysterious city, but they are mixed witli 
sulphurous fumes, which are very un- 
healthy, for many medical authorities 
assert a constant lowering of the physi- 
cal type in London, and question whether 
the London po|)ulation could be per- 
petuated without a perpetual inHux of 
fresh Ijlood from outside Enslaud and 



(120 



EUROPE LV fITORM AXD CALM. 



froiii (itlicr countries. The smoke :inil 
the coal-dust, the sulphate of auiiuonia, 
produced in the atmosphere by the burn- 
ing of enormous quantities of coal, and 
the suli)hurons acid, are at first intensely 
disagreeable to the stranger. If a windi >\\ 
be leftslightly open, books, writing-paper, 
fine linens, and silks are found soiled 
and smirched with the black particle s 
which liover in to do their iini)leasant 
work; aud a wristl)and, immaculate at 
nine o'clock, nuist be changed at noon. 
One soon discovers why it is that the 
Londoner is perpet- 
ually washing his 
hands, and that toi- 
let-iooms are to be 



clever dramatist and journalist, INIr. 
( George Sims, electrified lienevolent Lon- 
don when he showed, in a well-written 
pamphlet, how the jioor of London live ; 
how lliey are crowded in dens such as 
exist iu no continental city. The instinct 
of ilecency and cleanliness seems to be 
lianished from the souls of these people, 
who live in an atmosphere of unsavory 
odors, and whose methods of thought are 
so muddled by constant absorption of 
beer and s[)irits that they do not realize 
tlieirown degradation. In addition to 
file very poor there is an adventurous 
class, several hundred thousand strong, 
which passes a wretched existence of 
expedients and make-shifts, living in 
almost bare, comfortless lodg- 
ings, knowing no warmth or 
_ light save that of the public 
%.^ house or the theatre, or 




THE QUEEN'S CLiaa.VUE. 



found in every crowded thoroughfare. 
From the dillicnlty of keeping clean in 
Lon<lon town probably arises the fashion 
jirevalent among tlie upper classes of 
speaking of the poor as dirty people. In 
no other place in the world is a smart, 
even an elegant, exterior so important 
as in Lond<jn. The papers record witli 
surprise the a|)pearance of a well-dressed 
man in tlie dock of a i)olice or criminal 
court. To lie ill-dressed is almost a 
crime. 

The poor people in London are indeed 
dirty people, and they have few facilities 
for the promotion of cleanliness. Tiiat 



that of the too rare sunlight during the 
short summer. 

London has its fashionable season, its 
period of social and intellectual, as well as 
chief commercial, activity, in the months 
of jMarch, April, May, .June, July, and 
August. The '' season " projjer may 
be said to begin after Easter, and to 
close ]ninetually with the lising of Par- 
liament, on the l"_'th of August. In 
February and March publishers are busy 
with new books, the iiainters are frantic 
witli pr<>[iarations for annual exhibitions, 
hoi'se-i'acing begins, the university crews 
are briskly at work on the river, finish- 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



62] 



ing with their annual struggle. But house-keeper is nervous with ambition to 

"town," as all Englishmen call it, is make money ; and in the great metropo- 

not at the height of its gayety until the lis, with four and a half millions of 

breezy and pleasant days of May. people, a stranger who arrives on a suni- 




THE QUEEN CONTERKING THE ORDER OF KNTGHTnOOD. 



Then the rich families come in from 
their country retreats. The fashionable 
hotels treble their rates. The gentle- 
men who pay ten guineas for their suite 
of rooms during the spring are asked to 
pay thirty after the first of May or to 
retire. Every landlord and lodging- 



mer evening has an excellent chance of 
sleeping in the streets, if he has not 
engaged his rooms several days before- 
hand. 

It is not the foreigners, but the Eng- 
lish of the upper aud middle classes, 
who spend the money during the season. 



(122 



EUROPF: fX STORM AXD CALM. 



'J'lie British iioti'l-kocprr professes soiiu' 
sliu'lit (lisil;iin Ibi' American patronnp;e, 
liocauso tiu' American does not drinli 
wine. A conntrv s(|iiire, a prosperous 
clerii'vmnn, witii liis family, or a rich 
mainifa<-tnrer, with his half-dozen grown- 
up d:uii;lil( I's, one or two smart sons, 
and his huslliug wife, will spend as nnich 
niunc)- at dinner at a London hotel as an 
AnuMic;iu party will dis|)euse in a dav. 
Tile well-to-do country people enjov 
thi'ir T>ondon season and lavish money 
uiicin it. If they economize it is in the 
discreet privacy of their rural home. 
One cannot pass through the London 
season without heavy cx]iense. The 
ancient and rather shaliln' lodging- 
liouses in the hisloi'ic streets on the 
SIraud, and in the great squares at the 
West I'aid, are almost as expensive as 
the mannuoth modern hotel. Tiie thea- 
tre, the opera, and concert are all dear in 
com|)arison with ordinary prices in Amer- 
ica. A seat at a fashionable theatre, 
where the i>lay begins at a quarter before 
nine o'clock and closes promptly at 
eleven, costs half a sovereign, or S2.50. 
I-'lowers, fruit, and, in short, evervthing 
which partakes of the natui-e of a 
luxury, are dear, even at a central mar- 
ket like C'ovent Tiarden. But Enghiml 
is tilled with people who are rich and 
whose fathers were rich before them, 
and wlio scarcely appreciate the value of 
money. The luxurious and hauilsome 
holi'ls in London, at the termini of tlie 
gre.Mt I'ailways, profess to make moderate 
charges ; but to li\-e in them as one livesin 
an ./Vmerican hotrcl one must pav nearlv 
doubl(> the Amei'ican charges. London 
jilucks the sti-anger within her gates, 
whether he comes from outside Eugland 
or from foreign parts ; but the resident 
(inds it a cheap, healthv. and a<ireeable 
place to li\<' in. He learns not to think 
of the weatliei- at all. In-door life is 



comfortable and entertaining, and when 
the Englishman goes out of doors, it is 
for vigorou.s exercise on horseback, on 
the i-iver, in the cricket Held, or a brisk 
walk along the sulmrban streets, or a 
thii'ty-mile promenade ou the tricycle, 
which has become almost as prominent 
an institution in London as a family 
carriage. 

Tlic lioHiliivs. festal occasions, politi- 
cal and sporting anniversaries are im- 
portant events in the London season. 
After Easter comes a Bank holiday, 
while business is suspended when the 
(Quarter .Sessions begin. On the second 
Sunday after Easter the Conservatives 
celebrate what is called Primrose Day, 
the anniversary of the death of Lord 
Beaconsfield. in 1881. In May the 
Acatlemy exhiliition of paintings is 
opened, and ou the evening preceding 
it, unless it lie a Sunday, a grand din- 
ner is given at Burlington House, at 
which the [iresident of the Royal Acad- 
emy jn-esides, and speeches are expected 
from the Prime ^Minister, foreign amlias- 
sadors, distinguished orators and writers. 
In INIay, too, comes the anniversary of 
the liirth of Queen Victoria, — a Bank 
liolidav. — when all the counnercial woild 
enjoys a rest, and the younger class of 
em|ilovi''s a great frolic. Next in order 
are the Epsom races, and the Whitsun- 
tiile holidays. 

The Dei'bv, famous the world over, is 
one of tile most curious and interesting 
of the iMciug-fcstivals in England, and 
bi-ings out the most motley collection of 
jieople of all classes that can be seen 
duiing tlu' year. The great annual 
meeting, on Epsom Downs, takes place 
just befoi'e Wliitsuntide, from Tuesday 
to Eriday. Wednesday is the Derby, 
Frid.-iv is the Oaks, or, as the populace 
would call it, '• The Hoaks." If the 
English think it extraordinary that the 



EURO I -E IN STORM AND CALM. 



623 



French should always choose a Siiiidav 
for any grand parliamentary disi)lay lie- 
foie the beginning of an important de- 
li;dt', the French tliiuk it no less singular 
that the English should adjourn their 
Parliament in order that its momliers 
may attend a horse-race. Legislation is, 
in fact, invariably adjourned for the 
Derby ; and Sir Wilfred Lawson and 
other reformers spend their breath in 
vain in pointing out the wickedness of 
wasting people's time in attendance 
upon a trivial sport. The passion for 
horse-flesh is so great in England that 
it inliltrates into conversation and 
metaphor. The slang of the turf is 
often used in political illustration, and 
instances may be mentioned where it has 
been employed in descrilting the charms 
of an actress or a professional Ijeauty. 
The sailor and the jockey contribute 
thousands of phrases to English con- 
versation. On the Derby day, in the 
afternoon, all business in London is sus- 
pended, except the important business 
of transportation. Thousands upon 
thousands of people have gone down by 
road on drags and coaches, )iacked with 
hampers of food and drink, and. long- 
before the hour of the races, are ranged 
in rows on the furzy an<l irregular hill- 
sides, which are thronged with a col- 
lection of mountebanks, gypsies, and 
adventurers of all classes ; and brown- 
faced fortune-tellers, mounted on stilts, 
come to the drags to tell the fortunes of 
the ladies seated there. Young clerks 
from the city have begun their libations 
at an early hour, and soon quarrel and 
fight. A " Welcher," or a lietting man 
who cheats, is thrashed within an inch of 
his life. The enormous grand-stand, 
which can accommodate thousands, 
sends forth a shout of half awe-struck 
pleasure when the arrival of the Prince 
of Wales is announced, and it is not too 



much to say that when the horses are 
led forth upon the turf fifty thousand 
peo|)le rush to their heels to admii-e and 
connnent upon their points. The race 
itself is like all horse-races, — interesting 
niiiinly to those who have risked upon 
the result. The I'aces have been regu- 
larly run at Epsom since the time of 
James I. when he lived at Nonsuch 
palace, and was fond of visiting the 
Derbys to see the horses run. In their 
present form the races date from IT.'IO. 
Formerly there were spring and autunni 
meetings, but now there is a spi'iug uieet- 
ing in April, lasting onlv two days, and 
from which the fashional>le world holds 
aloof. Then there is the JNIay meeting, 
from the Tuesday to Friday before Whit- 
suntide, unless Easter comes in March, 
when the races take place after the 
Whitsuntide week. Edward, twelfth Earl 
of Derby, established the race known l)y 
his name, in 1780 ; and in the year pre- 
vious to this he established the " Oaks," 
so called from one of his country seats. 
The Derby race proper is a one-and-one- 
half-milc contest for three-year-old 
gelds and fillies, and is usually run in 
from two minutes and forty-three seconds 
to two minutes and fifty-two and one- 
half seconds. Thirty years ago Tatter- 
sail's, the great sporting rendezvous in 
Auction Hall for horses in London, was 
crowded at the book-making before the 
Derby day with a miscellaneous collec- 
tion of peers and plebeians and prize- 
fighters, " butchers, bakers, and candle- 
stick-makers," farmers, soldiers, and 
even ladies, — all anxious to indulge in 
this form of gambling. The owner of a 
Derby winner, on one occasion, had to 
receive £70,000 from the ring at Tatter- 
sail's, and so strict are the regulations 
that on the settling day all this money, 
with the exception of £200 or £.")00, was 
in the hands of his l)ankers. Jockevs like 



624 



EUROrE TN STORM AND CALM. 



Arc'lier. Foiilluiin, ami Wuod accumulate 
lai'iio fortunes ; and Arclier, wlm heads 
tlie list of winning; jockeys in England 
and France (for lie often rides at tiie 
races on Longcliamjts, in Paris) , makes 
as ranch money as the most snocossfiil 
of dramatic authors or leading actors. 

During the 
last racing 
season five 
p r o m i n o n t 
English gen- 
tlemen, own- 
ers of five 
studs of 
horses, won 
more than 
£10, 000 each; 
Mr. T. Ham- 
mond winning 
£12,379 ; Mr. 








<• 



>--'r' 



':,—r^ 



ON THE ROAD TO EPSOM. 



R. Peck, £11.000; the Duke of AVest- 
minster. £1 ! .TCI) ; Mr. Manlon, £11.404 ; 
and Mr. Rotlischild, £10.0;51. 

Tlie return from the Derby is a sight 
that, once seen, is never to be forgotten. 
Tliousands of coaches, drags, light car- 
riages, omnilmses, and coinitry wagons 
stream down past the grand-stand, from 



which tlie view extends, on one side, to 
AVinds(.ir Castle, and on the other to St. 
Paul's t'athedi'al ; and all the way np to 
London, fifteen miles, along pleasant 
conntiy roads, well dotted with rural inns, 
with furzy banks, copious forests, country 
valleys, snrromided with handsome shrub- 
bery, — there is a veritable carnival of 
the rudest horse-play and sport. The 
noisy peoi)le feel it their duty and their 
privilege to attack quiet people, and as 
two-thirds of the holiday-makers ride 
upon the tops of drags or in open wagons 
a kind of battle goes on. Now and then 
the quiet people are provoked into re- 
taliation by streams of water poured on 
them from squirt-guns, made esi)ecially 
for the occasion, and by a shower of 
pocket-tlasks, stale biscuits, bits of lob- 
ster-shells, and even chami)agnc bottles. 
Every license that the exhilaration of 
fresh air and an unlimited quantity of 
wine can produce seems permitted, and 
the interference of the police wouhl l)e 
!o(jked upon as an unheard-of innova- 
tion. The object of the rougher cla.ss 
seems to be to ruin the garments and 
spoil the [ileasnre of the 
gentler numlier, and in this 
they thoroughly succeed. 
The result is that gentle- 
,.,!' men who visit the Derby 
clothe themselves for the 
^,, - occasion in garments of 

simple gray and in white 
hats, which they countupon 
laving aside as useless 
thereafter. 'I'lie ladies, 
with their customary tact, dress in sober 
colors, and if the road carnival becomes 
too ui)roarious they take refuge in the in- 
terior of the coaches. It was once my 
foittnie to visit the Derliy with a party 
wJKi had in their service a huge, good- 
natured, and neatly dressed American 
negro. This unfortunate servant oecu- 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



625 



'<t 



ri ^ 











1 






















^^:^^^**^ 







FOX-nUN'ITXO IN ENOI-ANT). 



pied a conspicuous place i>n the front London certain sneicties post good- 

of tlie drag; but before we liad gone looking men, who lioM up [)lacards for the 

five miles on our return he was hidden contemplation of tlie crowd. These 

under the liack seat in the interior, ]ilaeards are generally adorned with re- 

whence he hardly dared to emerge afti'r ligious mottoes and ilevices, and on one 

he was in the comfortable security occasion a hnge poster dis|)layed tiiese 

of the stable at a London hotel. Here words. " ^\'here will all this end? In 

and there on the road from Epsom up to hell-lire." 



G26 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



There arc numerous races after the 
Epsom during the season ; the sumnier 
meeting at Sandown, the Ascot, to which 
the fashionable world goes in throngs, 
the New Mariiet meeting, and the Good- 
wood meeting, — all these are greatcvents 
for society ; and even the Queen has been 
known to attend the races at Ascot on 
the cu]) day. rerliaps the most lirilliant 
assemblage of ladies in the cai ly |iart of 
the London season is to be found at 
Epscim, on the Oai<s day, — the Derby 
being more especially reserved for gentle- 
men. 

The jirivato view days at the Academy 
and the (irosvenor exhibitions bring 
together large gatherings of celebrities. 
In the handsome rooms devoted to the 
Royal Academy in Burlington House 
some seveutei'U hundred pictures, or 
perha])s half as man_y as are annually 
(lis|ilayed at the Pai'is Salon, are eshih- 
iti'd. The characteristics of the Englisli 
jiainting are too well known to need much 
discnssiou iiere. The foreign observer 
looks in vain for the brilliancy of tune 
and tlie liarmony of color to which the 
continental schools of painting liave 
accustomed him. He finds in tlie solid 
and enduring works of John INIilhiis, 
Alma Tadenia, Mr. Watts, Luke Fildes, 
IMr. lloll, Mr. Herkomer, and Sir Fred- 
erick Leighton, enough talent, even 
genius, to bestow renown npon any 
academy. Sir Frederick Leigliton is 
tlie accomplished and versatile president 
of the Koyal Academy. The foreigner 
looks with aslonishment upon the great 
mass of dull and Haccid compositions by 
the younger men. If English art needs 
any informing purpose it is that of sun- 
shine. It wants blue sky and tianslu- 
cent atmosphere. Now and then a mas- 
ter like Millais can extract .1 weird 
poetry and charm from the sombre and 
gray qualities of a Scotch landscape, as 



in his noted picture of " Chili October."' 
The Academy is tilled with capricious 
painters, who delight in fantastic and 
unnatural subjects, in which the^' can 
use colors evolved from their own imagi- 
nation rather than copied from anything 
in the visible universe. In portraiture 
the Academy is strong. All the English 
pictures, except the above-mentioned 
portraits, have a strong literary tinge, — 
they tell a story, often striking, some- 
times touching. The English painter is 
not satisfied, like the French, wilh mere 
contrast of color without coherence, he 
wishes to recite sometliing, to interest 
more in his subject than in his technique. 
The military painters are not very 
numerous for a nation so often at war 
as Great Britain. Neither do the 
painters appear to have profited by the 
picturesque fiicilities offered in India and 
other dependencies of Great Britain for 
the choice of taking subjects. English 
and Scotch people, it is said, wish Eng- 
lish and Scotch pictures ; and there is no 
doubt they will pay liberally for them. 
Nowhere else in the wf)rld does the mod- 
ern painter get more siileudid remuneia- 
tion than in London. Half-a-dozen of 
the leading artists live in veiitable pal- 
aces, which are the outgrowth of their 
own industry, — "industry" is perha] s 
the ]iroper word. John Millais lives in 
a noble mansion, and has a spacious 
studio, in which he often receives royalty. 
Sir Frederick Leighton inhabits a |)he- 
nomenal house, with tessellated pave- 
ments, cool court-yards, cabinets filled 
with antiquities and costly hrk-h-hnic, 
and receives like a prime minister or a 
peer of the realm. George Bou^hton 
and Alma Tadema also have fine places 
of residence. Tadenia's house is like 
his work, archjeological and fascinating. 
In the neighboi-hood of Holland Park 
there is an artistic colony, with dozens 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



(327 



of roomj', noble houses, where paiiiteis 
live iu a verv diflerent style from that 
of the traditioual garret to which they 
were supposed to be condemned. Besides 
the annual Academy exhibition there is 
a fine display of the works of living 
painters, in oil and water colors, on 
the 1st of May, at tlie Grosvenor Gal- 
lery, which was established by Sir Coutts 
Lindsay a few years ago, doulitiess to 
give increased facilities for exhibition to 
painters who are crowded out of the 
Academy. Then there is a society of 
painters in water-colors, of which Sir 
John Gilbert is the president; also the 
institute of painters in water-colors ; the 
Society of British Artists ; and the 
general exhibition of water-colors, which 
has a black-and-white exhibition during 
the season, and other minor displays. 
The English government gives a liberal 
aid to art, and the multiplication of art- 
schools throughout tlie kingdom is very 
remarkable. All this movement in favor 
of art-schools and art-education sprang 
from the exhibition of 1851, and from 
the impulse given to the study of the 
beautiful by that good and able man, 
the Prince Consort. 

Of good music in London there is no 
lack during " the season." London lias no 
opera-houses which can vie in splendor 
witli those of Paris and Vienna, but in 
prosperous seasons there are two Italian 
operas and a German opera, conducted 
by Hans Kichter, who has a great repu- 



tation in London. The concerts are 
legion. The real impulse to musical 
culture in London is given by the Ger- 
mans. Sir Julius Benedict is deservedly 
popular, and, despite liis great age, still 
conducts with vigor and skill. Sir Art'iur 
Sullivan, famous because of his light 
operas, is already renowned for solid 
musical accomplishments. Sir George 
Grove and Mr. JIcKenzie are among the 
chief authorities in the musical world. 
The aristocracy docs but little for good 
music. The famous Philharmonic Society, 
which Mendelssohn used to conduct, 
gives concerts at St. James's Hall, begin- 
ning in February, and continuing into 
the season. The Richter concerts are 
also given at St. James's Ilall. The 
Philharmonic's audiences are mainly re- 
cruited from the upper ranks of English 
societ}' ; the prosperous and cultivated 
Gei'mans and Jews attend the Richter 
scries. One of the odd instil utions of Lon- 
don is the "Ballad Concert." The popu- 
lace is never tired of the little tooting 
ballad or simple song. Its appetite for 
these modest forms of musical composi- 
tion is enormous. The culture of sacred 
music is very important. There is a 
sacred harmonic society conducted by 
Charles Halle, a German, who has lived 
in London for nearly a half-century ; 
also the Albert Hall Choral Society, con- 
ducted by Mr. Barnaby, and the Bach 
Society, where Mr. Goldschmidt, the 
husband of Jenny Liud, wields the baton. 



1}2S EUROPE hV STORM AXD CALM. 



CHAPTER SEVENTY-OXE. 

(Queen's Weather. — The Coaching Moots. — The Flower Shows. — Simplicity of Eiighsh Manners.— 
Eccentricity anil Excellence. — Foreigners and English Society. — The London Theatre. — Ellrn 
Terry. — Wilson liarrctt. — English Comedy Writers. —In the Parks. — Rotten How. — .'-oine 

Nohle Houses in London. — A Town of Men. — Political Intluonce. — The Clubs. 

IN tliij high Londcin season there is wiicii tlie jsiiii is radiant and there are 
more oiit-of-iloor life, t lie re are more no sudden eliaiiges tliat it is '-Qiieeirs 
lawn and oarden i)arties, more assem- AVeatiier." ()d<lly enough, whenever 
bhigesoffa.sliional>le ladies and gentlemi'n Her (iraeions Jlnjesty appears in imhlie, 
at the flower shows of the great horticul- slie is blessed with tran(|uil skies and 
tiiral societies, than -woidd at first seem the absence of down-pom- : but other 
possilile in a conntry with a climate so memliersof the Royal Family and other 
v;iri:dile tis tiiat of Englanil. If the cli- Enalish itei-sonag(>s are not so fortiuiate. 
nuite is varial)le, however, it is ttlso eceen- The ortitor who goes to address a pub- 
trie; and now and then the L(jniloners lie meetino' witliont his Macintosh or his 
are gratilied with .-i siiinnier whieh h:is innlirella is as foolish as if he went with- 
the strange charm of the North with the out the subject-matter of his s[ieech. 
sweetness and siditilty of the South. In The " Coachino\Meets"andtlie " Flow- 
1.SS4, for instance, in the great gnr- er Shows " brino' togetlier as fine a collec- 
dens attached to tiie South Kensington tion of handsome men and preltv women 
Museinii, where a successful " Iletillh as can lie found in any European capi- 
Kxhiliition " was held, thotisamls of tal. London takes a siiecial pi ide in its 
gentlemen in evening dress paraded flowers and fruit, which are forced into 
after dinner on the green hiwns ;ind on a precocious and somewhat abnormal 
terrtices until the kite darkness came, at niatiuitv in ihe gieat conservtitorics and 
lialf-ptist nine or ten o'cloi'k. after whieh forcing houses. The prosperous mer- 
tlie gfounils were illinninatcd. and Lou- chant likes to boast of liis orchids, rho- 
don seemed transformed into Upper dodenilrons. and an innnito variety of 
Ittily or Southern France. Mr. Piineh. roses. Tiiis is indeed a more creditable 
in his s|irightly periodical, once illus- fashion tlitm a pronoiniced extravtigance 
trate(l by means of :i picture the reason in the line of fast horses, wines, or even 
why the liritisli pidilic did not take old china. There is in the English capi- 
kindly to riifh of the Parisian form, tal a very large class devoted to the 
lie showed a crowd of stout dowagers doctrines of Mr. Bunthorne, — -a class 
and fat fathers of families suddenly siili- which, "hile peihaps it does not aceejlt 
jected to a shower of sleet, just as tlii'y Oscar Wilde as its apostle, still follows 
had begun to enj<iy their colfee in the pre-R;iph.aelitism in dress and in the fur- 
open ;iir. The people of London have ;i nishings of its homes. These people 
phrase, however, nliich illustrates their stand out in bolil relief against the 
<levotion to the Royal Family and their stuidv mass of English folk of all 
appreciation of a fine da^'. The}- say classes, and there are few if any of them 



EUROrE r.\- SITOR.U AND CALM. 



r)29 



in the upper cireles. An English Duke 
is bhiff :iii(l si!ii[ile iu his w.ays, deliglit- 
iiig ratlier, if he boasts at all, to lioast 
of his drawings \\\ Raphael, and his 
majestie parks and lakes, than of any 
peenlinrities in eo.stnnie or speech. 
There is even an affectation of sinii)licity 
on the part of certain noblemen of high 
rank, a kind of defei'ence to the grow- 
ing democratic feeling, but a deference 
which the gentlemen in question would 
doubtless be slow to acknowledge if 
they were accused of it. An ill-natured 
critic has said that an English public is 
captivated by eccentricities quite as 
much as by excellence. This is but 
partly true. Originality in thought and 
expression is alwaj'S resiiected by Eng- 
lish society, although it sometimes calls 
forth comments of extreme bluntness, 
and criticisms wliicli in some circles 
might be called rude. To win the 
respect of the English the foreigner 
must remain Jiimsclf., and never attempt 
to cojiy English ways of speech or dress. 
Taking tlie London season altogether 
it may periiaps be called the most inter- 
esting one in Eiu'ope. There is less of 
dramatic, but more of musical, brilliancy 
in the London than in the Paris season. 
There are more circles, each one larger, 
more entertaining, and wealthier, in Lou- 
den tiian elsewhere. Set down a for- 
eigner in London from any part of the 
world, accord to him a good appearance 
and character, a certain refinement, and 
a few letters of introduction, and if he 
does not at once find the soit of society 
which he likes he will be veiy hard to 
please. He will not find the npi>er 
worltl at all dillicnlt of access, if he is 
celebrated, amusing, oi- instructive ; and, 
on the contrary, if he is dull and selfish, 
even though he have millions, he ctinnot 
enter the charmed sphere. I^oiidon 
wants the best in people and in things. 



an<l recognizes, with great imi)artiality 
and good-nature, all kinds of merit. 
^VIleu it has once adopted a favorite in 
a certain specialty it hesitates for 
some time befoie accepting a rival in the 
sauie line. It appears to tliiuk that it 
can be loyal to but one excellence in a 
single department, and if that excellence 
I'l'ceives the seal of royal praise it is 
guaranteed a permanence in public tavor 
which nothing short of a great scandal 
or misfortune can destroy. 

The theatre plays an iiu]i<irtai)t p:irt 
in the recreations of the London high 
season, and great progress has lieen 
made in the last few years in tiie moinit- 
ing and pi'oduction of jilays. Li scenic 
splendor London is easily the supeiior 
of Paris to-dav, the Parisians having 
given themselves bodily to the siiectacle. 
with its inane jokes, and its silly, fiiiry 
extravagances ; while the ordinary French 
comedy, illustrative of manners and 
morals, requires no scenery lieyond tliat 
of ;i parlor, a field, or a ganlen. The 
latest ]iroduction of the Itrilliant Du- 
mas, the comedy of " Deni.se," is in 
four acts, without any change from the 
scenery of the first act. Mr. Irving, 
and, later, Mr. Wilson Bari'ctt, have 
given a sharp influence to the arelueo- 
logical school upon the stage. In their 
productions at the Lyceum and the 
Princess's Theatre of Sliakesperian 
plays and melodramas tiiey have ex- 
(lended large sum-* in strict adherence 
ti^ lealisui. and with the view to gieat 
splend(.)r. "Slv. L\ing is. and \vill long 
i-euiain, fucik' prinri-jis in tlie London 
theatrical world, for he unites to his 
extraordinary ability as a sttige man- 
ager that grain of genius, couibin' il witli 
eccentricity, which captivates tin' Lon- 
don heart. No one is better fitted than 
]\Iiss Ellen Terry to serve as a piquant 
contrast to his varied moods, and to 



6;'>o 



EVRorE IN STORM AND CALM. 



porti-MV tlio chief IVminino clianicters in 
the phiy'' vviiich he has so strongly 
stamped with iiis own individuality- ^Ii'- 
AVilson IJarrett is a newer applicant I'or 
London favor, but has made rapid prog- 
ress, and stands almost shoulder to 
shoulder with living. In three or four 
years he has secured a prominence which 
no one dared pro|)hesy for him. The 
|irodiietion of "C'laudian" and similar 
plays marks a new era at the old and 
well known Princess's. Of good come- 
dians, men and women, Loudon has do 
lack ; many of them are as familiar 
to the American as to the English pub- 
lic : Mr. and Mrs. Kendal, Mr. and 
Mrs. Bancroft, Mr. David James, Mr. 
Arthur Cecil, Mr. Hart Conway, Mr. 
Charles Wyndham, Mr. Toole, Miss 
Ellen Teiry, Miss Calhoun (an Ameri- 
can girl, who has made a line reputa- 
tion in London), Mr. Forbes Robert- 
son, Mr. Terriss (who appears to have 
been created ex|)ressly to act harmoni- 
ously and impressively with our brilliant 
compatiiot. Miss Anderson), and others 
less known outside of Loudon, yet wIkj 
compare favorably with tlie actors and 
actresses of Vienna. With l)right fun 
and ))urles(iue Loudon is amjily sup- 
plied ; and a house in which the orches- 
tra stalls are occupied by country 
parsons and their families, or by prim 
old dow.agers from the upper circles of 
some rich county, will listen without 
appai-ent prudishne'^s to what would 
scarcely i)ass unchallenged on the Amer- 
ican stage. What Mr. Irving, Mr. 
Bai'rett, and one or two others have 
d(^ne for the London theatre is to raise 
it from the level of an amusement to 
that of an art. For tliose who wish 
merely to be amused the late Mr. Byron 
and the \'eiy lively and witty Mr Albeiv. 
as well as the perennial Mr. (iiHiert, 
the (Siamese twin of Sir Arthur Sidli- 



van, furnish all that is necessary. The 
Loud(jn critics of the theatre and the 
t'oueert are severe and just. Among them 
are many eelel)rities, like Mr. Binuuind, 
editor of " Punch " ; Mr. Knight, of the 
" Atliemuum " ; Mr. Sala, of the ''Tele- 
grai)li"; Mr. Yates, of the "World"; 
Mr. Clement Scott, ^Ir. Saville Clarke, 
and the industrious ]Mr. Sims, who both 
writes and criticises plays. If the Lou- 
don stage has not yet produced artists 
to take the [ilace of Phelps and Buck- 
stone, and of Adelaide Neilson, there is 
no reason to believe that it will not one 
day find them ; and it seems certain that 
at no remote period England will have 
a school of contemporary comedy writers 
as good as those of the old days. The 
obstacles that block the way at present 
are the indisposition of the public to 
listen to the treatment of English social 
topics with the frankness with which 
French comedians can discuss French 
society, and the ease with which a 
French piece can be adapted, remodelled, 
and anglicized, so as to make a de- 
lightful work, free from guile, and 
sparkling with wit. English society is 
so different in many small and, at first 
sight, imperceptil.)le, partieubirs, even 
from American society, tiiat when Mr. 
Bronson Howard undertook, in con- 
junction with Mr. Albery, the adaptation 
of " The Banker's Daughter " to a Lon- 
don stage, he was met in almost every 
scene with tlie remark fi'om his co- 
laborer, "That will not do here; that 
must lie changed. Our audiences would 
not understand that ; the young lady 
would not do that in London ; " and so on 
in] ! iijiiiitin)!. 

The "Rotten Row" has sometimes 
been thought to derive its odd name 
from liiiiitc ihi Rn! — the King's Way ; 
but ;\Ir. Timbs tells ns that the name 
•• rotten '" is distinctly to be traced to 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



031 



rotteran, to muster. This seems natural 
enough, as Hyde Park was used for a 
muster-ground durhig the civil war, and 
many great reviews have been held 
there. It must be a very ugly day in- 
deed when " Kotten Row,'' in Hyde 
Park, is not tilled during the high season 
from five to seven o'clock, and often in 
the morning hours, with throngs of 
pretty women of all ages from sixteen 
to sixty, escorted by gay young cava- 
liers, or by hale and fat old millionnaires 
and members of Parliament, peers and 
promoters of companies, merchants and 
professional men, taking their ride, 
and exhibiting as pretty a command of 
noble horses as can be seen anywhere 
in the world. From all the aristocratic 
sections, — from Grosveuor and Berke- 
ley squares, from Park bine and May- 
fair, from Belgrave square and St. 
James's square, and even from the grave 
and decorous district westward from 
Portland place, between Oxford street 
and Mnrylebone road ; from Westbounio 
terrace ; from the pretty disti'icls around 
Regent's Park, — hundreds of horsemen 
and e(iuestriennes take their way to tiie 
park after a late lunch, ride till dinner 
time, and return home only in time to dress 
for that repiist. The fashionable day, 
to use an Hibernianism, is iu the night. 
The daylight hours are spent in vigor- 
ous recruiting of the energies which have 
been exhausted by " ball and rout " (for 
the English still use the old-fashioned 
" rout"), liy receptions ami dinner-pnr- 
ties, crushes in the salons of the am- 
Imssadors, or late suppers after the 
tiieatre. During the " season" most of 
the noble town houses of the aristocracy 
are occupied. Some of these are veri- 
table palaces, worthy of the best days of 
Italy. Apsley House, the old home of 
the Duke of Wellington, at Hyde Park 
■Corner, is above a eenturv old, and a 



mob demonstration at the lime of the 
first Reform Bill broke its windows, 
whereupon the old Duke put up iron 
shutters, which remained there during 
his lifetime. Apsley House is famous 
for its picture-gallery, in which the 
Waterloo banquet was annually held on 
the loth of June, until 1852. It con- 
tains one of the most noted Correggios 
in the world. Stafford House, the town 
residence of the Duke of Sutherland, 
dates from the early part of this century. 
Here the hospitable Duke receives com- 
pau}- from all ])arts of the world ; and 
now and then the mansion, which is not 
unlike a Genoese jialace, has a grand 
staircase, and is filled with celebrated 
pictures and statues, is thrown open to 
persons who attend a concert or enter- 
tainment in aid of some charity. The 
picture-gallery iu Stafford House is 
said to be the most magnificent room 
in London. Murillo, Thorwaldsen, Cor- 
reggio, Lawrence, Etty, and Laudseer 
have contributed to the decoration of 
this noble house, built for the late Duke 
of York, at whose death the lease was 
sold to the first Duke of Sutherland. 
The Marquis of Westminster has a grand 
mansion, called Grosvenor House, iu 
LT[)per Grosvenor street, and it contains 
Murillos, Titians, Guides, Rembrandts, 
a miraculous Paul Potter, and a group 
of the best works of Rubens, four of 
wliich were bought out of a Si)auish 
convent for £10,000. The Duke of 
Devonshire has a (ilaiu, rather uglv, 
m:insion, called after his title, in Picca- 
dilly. It is not strange that a man who 
has so spleu<lid a country home as 
Chatsworth should not care for an expen- 
sive London residence. In Lausdowno 
House, belonging to the Marquis of 
Lansdowne, Priestley made the discov- 
ery of oxygen, and in the picture-gallery 
tlicre hang the portraits of Hogarth, of 



G32 



EUROrE IN STOR.V A.XD CALM. 



Pe£C WofliiijTton. and of flie [laiiitpr liiin- 
solf. Tlic ]\[:iriinis of Ilcrtfonl, Sir 
RolxM-t WA. Lionel de Rolliseliild. the 
Duke of Bedford, the Eavl of Dudley, 
the Duke of Norfolk, and many other 
nd'iileiiieu lia\e tine eollections of paint- 
iii<Ts. ancient and modern. 

London s[)eedily iniiiresses the stranger 
as a town of men. At first sight the 
foreiu'ner moving about in the great 
metropolis seems to discover in it no 
place in public for the gentler half of 
the Inniian race. While in Paris one 
linds ladies almost everyvrhere that gen- 
tlemen may go, in London they seem to 
lie conlined to their homes, to the parks, 
an<l lo luief excursions from their car- 
riages to shops. At the theatre, and at 
some of the fashionable restaurants, 
brilliant toilets and pretty faces may be 
seen ; but the extei'ior of I^ondon is not 
sudiciently inviting to draw forth the 
ladies daily and at all hours, as one may 
see them in Paris and Vienna. Li Lon- 
don the m:iscidine mind is supreme. 
Fiom time tn lime there have been salons 
•jdverncd liv ladies of distinction and 
liaviiig a wide inlluence, as in Paris, lint 
now they searci'ly exist. Mr. Eseott 
tells us that it is " Iiecause the social 
conditions of English society have 
changed that the siiJnti. in the sense in 
which it is usually spoken of, lias almost 
ceased to exist, rather tlian Iiecause no 
opportunities or inducements are to Ik' 
found to infltieuce politics through so- 
cietv." lie also tells ns that Lady 
Palmerston, who died in l.SfiS, has had 
no successor. Lord Palmerston was in- 
debted for nidst cif his influen<-e and 
poiiularity to the social tact of his wife 
and to her ^fihni. " Lady Palmerston." 
says IMr. Escutt, ■' received not only 
at niirht. but in the day. and all her in- 
vitatiiin caids were written with her nwn 
hand. Uv consummate skill she pre- 



served for her assemblies the seal of 
distinction, and every one who was in- 
vited t(i them i-egai(led the invitation as 
an honor, although he was not single in 
the enjoyment of it." There was no 
re.sorf in London so interesting to the 
man of the world, or so useful to the 
politician. Ministers went there to ascer- 
tain the true cin-rentof public and polite 
O|iinion. JL-. Eseott goes ou to tell ns 
that " more than one great lady has tiied 
to fill the place left vacant by Lady 
Palmerston," lint that she has uniformly 
faile(L because her invitations were in 
the hands oT, and were issued b}', secre- 
taries, whips, and clerks. He adds that 
the great leaders of the two chief politi- 
cal parties in the state cannot and will 
not study the art of social entertain- 
ment, and that dinners and receptions 
are given as matters of necessity and not 
of choice. 

A consiilci-able political inlluence is 
doubtless wielded by the mistresses of 
many country-houses, who enjoy good 
position and large fortune, and who can 
invite to their homes large eategm-ies of 
celebrities every year. A lady who lives 
for six months in a palatial home only 
two or three miles from the metropolis, 
and who assembles about her the best 
minds of the times, sometimes takes 
pleasure in giving these minds an iin- 
pulse and watching the result of that 
im|inlse, during the four or five months 
of the high season, when the political 
aii<l intellectual activity of Loudon is at 
its best. IMr. Eseott says that English 
society has l)een greatly modified since 
the Keform Rill of \S:V2. and that it at 
present comprises, closely blended to- 
gether, the aristocracy, the democracy, 
and the plutocracy. He thinks the 
ai'istocratic |irinciple has lieen strength- 
ened ancl extended in its operation by 
the plutocracy, but the antagonism 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



633 



between wealth and birth has long been 
disappearing. Yet tiie homage paid by 
society in England to the aristocratic 
principle is genuine. In clnbs the blend- 
ing of aristocracy and plutocracy con- 
stantly goes on, although the iilutocrat 
often has to submit to extreme rudeness 
on the part of the aristocratic gentlemen 
whose society he covets and courts. 
Many a newly enriched Englishman 
makes himself |)ermanently unliapiiy by 
forcing his way into a club the other 
members of which owe their wealtli to 
their parents, and are beginning to 
assume that haughtiness which appears 
to accompany remoteness from trade in 
Great Britain. " To belong to a club," 
remarks Mr. Escott, " does not neces- 
sarily guarantee a personal acquaintance 
with any one of the members." " In some 
clubs where a less rigid system of eti- 
quette exists it is not thought irregular 
for one member to address another of 
whom he knows nothing if they happen 
to occupy contiguous chairs in the smok- 
ing-room. In such matters as tiiese. and 
in many others, every London chili of 
importance has special features of its 
own." Clubs, he thinks, are useful as a 
connecting link between society and 
statesmanship. The Liberal clubs are 
more comprehensive and homogeneous 
than the Conservative clubs. The Carl- 
ton, the Conservative head-quarters, is 
"a |)urely politic:'.] and social institu- 
tion — tlie accepted rendezvous and 
head-quarters of the accredited repre- 
sentatives of a party. The Reform Club 
lacks political uniformity among its mem- 
bers, and a pervading consciousness of a 
political purpose." This English view 
of the two great representative and op- 
posing English clubs mu.st, I think, have 
special interest for us. Tiie passion for 
exclusiveness, so foreign to tiie Ameri- 
can character, so prominent in tlie Eng- 



lish, is equally pronounced in Liberals 
and Conservatives. ' ' Club-land " — Pall 
JMall, St. James' street, Albemarle 
street, Hanover square — is a curious 
district. The club structures are truly 
palatial, imposing — models of comfort 
within. Hundreds of men may be seen 
at eleven o'clock in the morning, loung- 
ing at the windows, looking at tiie muddy 
streets and dull houses, aiiparently think- 
ing of nothing and doing nothing. Thi'se 
gentlemen are faultlessly dressed, have a 
languid air, and a Frenchman would 
accuse them of lioing troubled with 
spleen. The truth is that most of these 
gentlemen are active enough in their 
special and peculiar directions, social, 
political, or even commercial. The dailv 
lounge at the club is a part of the " good 
form " which is so requisite to the Lon- 
doner of the upper classes. In the Re- 
form and the Carlton, and at Brooks, 
nearly all the political celebrities of Eng- 
land may be seen some time during the 
season. If a foreign visitor could .stand 
in Pall Mall for twelve hours, and have 
pointed out to him by some one familiar 
with London faces the gentlemen who 
go in and out of the clubs, lie would, Vie- 
fore two o'clock in the morning, have 
seen two-thirds of the leading English- 
men. The clubs of the Army and 
Navy, of the Athena?um, the Travellers', 
the United Service, the Union, Ox- 
ford and Cambridge, the Oriental, the 
Junior Carlton are thronged every day 
during the eight or nine months of the 
year with the wittiest, brightest, the 
most [lowerful, and the bravest. .So long 
as these clubs maintain their present posi- 
tion, the scdon with ladies in command 
is not likely to reappear. Eastward, 
and in the Strand, and in Covent Gar- 
deu are the literary, artistic, and theat- 
rical clubs ; and the Garrick Club house, 
in Covent Garden, and the Savage, in the 



(i:U 



Ei'non: in storm and calm. 



S;ivoy, arc familiar to all tnivoUed Amer- 
icans. In oiu' i>r two <'lul) orfTanizatioiis 
till' rather umvontcil experiment (jf liri nix- 
ing ladies nnd "entlenien toe'ethei' liiis 
been eneonraiieil. l)ut has met with small 




KoiiKirr i;i:o\vxiX(f. 

isiiccess. London has elul)s Coi' people 
int'i,'rested in mountain explorations, in 
sportingand eoaehinj; ; foramateiirartists 
and collectors of art; for merchants and 
l>aiikers ; for ollicers in the East India 
service ; for gentlemen devoteil to the 
nolih' .-irt of pigeon-shooting; polo chilis 
in great Tinmliers ; clubs for inii)roving 
the breed of d(jgs ; clubs for the otiicors 



of the Six Services ; clubs of the C'liurch 
of iMigland ; i-hibs foi' yaehl-owners ; 
clubs for the promotion of c:inoeing : for 
file cultivation of chess ; ili[ilomatic 
clubs; fat-cattle c-liibs. and clubs for 
whist ; as well us <'lubs politi- 
cal, literary, ;xrtistic, a;id 
theatrical. There are Shake- 
speare, ■' New Shakspere," 
Plato, and (ioctlie societies; 
and lately, societies for the 
stLidy of even contcmiiorary 
poets, as Browning, which 
often draw ui)on themselves 
considerable ridicule by their 
enthusiasm. The lirowniug 
society is active in study of the 
great poet to whose fajne it has 
devoted its efforts. (Jf course 
Mr. Browning. :i man of ex- 
ceptionally robust and serious 
sense, though most kindly and 
unassuming in social contact, 
lias nothing to do with tlie cu- 
rious association which assumes 
his name. The yacht clubs, 
with their club-houses at 
(,'ow(>s, Southsea, Queenstown, Har- 
wich, ()ban, Rothesay, Southampton, 
Hyde, and (Ireenliithe on the Thames, 
nearh' all arc presided over by aristo- 
cratic conunodores. the Prince of Wales, 
Duke of Edinburgh, Duke of Connanglit, 
Loril Kicha,rd (Trosvenor, Priuce Edward 
of Saxe Weimar, and others, all paying 
special attention to this sort of s[)ort. 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



635 



CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO. 



The Sti-aiul. — A Historic Avenue. — Tlio City aiul Country Types. — En^iisli Love for Nature. — The 
Farmer .inil his Troubles. — Rural Beauty in Warwickshire ami Derbyshire. — Tlie Shakespeare 
Festival in 1879. — Stratforil. — Birmingham, the " Toy tSliop ot'Euro.pe." 



"XTOWIIERE does the pulse of Lon- 
-L^ don heat more feverishly than in 
the "Strand," — tho long and crowded 
avenue which leads from Charing Cross 
to the site of the ancient Temple Bar. 
Here all classes of English society meet 
and jostle as nowhere else within the 
limits of three-quarters of a mile every 
day, and especially for an hour or two 
after dinner. Here, too, vice flaunts its 
dirty wretchedness as it dares not do 
in New York or Paris. London will not 
have its social irregularities classified or 
licensed, and gives them full liberty in 
certain quarters. On the evening of a 
great national holiday the spectacle in 
the Strand, and in many streets leading 
from it, is often shocking. Almost every 
foot of the historic tiioroughfare (which 
got its name from being at the brink of the 
Thames) has its interest. In North- 
umberland Court Nelson lodged, and 
Ben Jouson lived when a boy. In 
Craven street Benjamin Franklin long- 
resided. In York House, now replaced 
by a sho]) in the Strand, Lord Bacon 
was born. In Buckiugiiam street lived 
old Samuel Pepys. At the Adelphi 
Lady Jane Grey was married. At 
Coiitts Bank Queen Victoria keeps her 
private account. In Cecil street Con- 
greve invented the rocket. In Fountain 
Court Blake the painter died. At No. 
132 Strand stood the old Drake's Head 
Coffee-house, of which Dr. Johnson was 
so fond. In Arundel street is the 
Arundel Chib, whose meniliers sit \\\) all 



night to discuss grave questions, and are 
known as the latest club men in London. 
In Norfolk street lived William Peiui. 
Dr. Johnson and Boswell often took 
supper at the Whittington Club, still in 
existence. In Exeter street lived the 
bookseller from whom John.son and his 
pupil Garrick borrowed £.h on their joint 
note when they first came up to Loudon ; 
and at a wigiriaker's, in Maiden Lane, 
Voltaire lived during most of his three 
years' stay in England. It was the 
flood of reminiscences and the proces- 
sion of ghostly figures from the roman- 
tic past that made Chailes Lamb, 
as he quaintly tells us, " often shed tears 
for fulness of joy at sight of so mtich 
life ill the Strand." 

Half the gentlemen whom one meets 
on Regent street or in Piccadilly 
have what we should call in Amer- 
ica a "country air." There is ia 
their dress and in their maimer a name- 
less something which betrays the fact 
that they spend the greater part of their 
time outside the walls of a large city. 
Put them on horseback in the park and 
they appear more at ease than in the 
crowded and fashionable thoroughfares. 
Nine out of ten of them much prefer the 
easy and luxurious comfcjit of their 
secluded homes, buried in the deiiths of 
blossoming gardens, and surroiiuiled by 
blooming hedges in summer, and still 
keeping in winter something of the ver- 
durous lichness for which tiie rainy 
islaiul is famous, rather than the hurry 



(I.'ili EUROPE IN Sroh')/ AXn rAL.U. 

Mill] srnokc of tUr nicti<)|iolis. To tlie oMi-dcns, urcenhoiiscs and fruit oi-clinnls ; 
ti-nacity with wliieli tlio Kiiglislmian in nnd one si-os hualthy and placid people 
conifiM'talilc circnmstaneos clings to liis qnictly enjoying an nnambitious and 
conntry or snlmrhan home, and refuses pleasant existence, — not a sellish one, 
to be ranged and numbered as a constant but one tilled with hospitality, and of en 
dweller in tiie city, may be ascribed the graced by refined thought and expression 
enduring iiidividiialitv so marked in of it. The passion for hunting lielter- 
Eugland. In tiuth, the great cities skelter over lields, without much regard 
throughout the islands might almost lie fo whom they belong, has I'eceived grave 
regardeil as blots upon the excjuisite checks both in England and Ireland 
landscapes. There can lie few more since the land agitation has liegun. M'-. 
startling transitions than that from the Anthony Trollope has told ns no little 
sylvan trani|uillity of the conntry round about it in the pretty story of "The 
about C'hatswdrth to the smudge and American Senator." and the daily press 
j)rosaie gloom of lUrmingliam ; or the has sufliciently enlightened us as to the 
arrival in l^iveriiool after a day's wan- peril to Irish aristocrats who try to follow 
derings through the quaint streets in the hounds and sometimes find tliem- 
ancient Chester, or the journey from selves facing an infuriated Hibernian 
Warwickshire by a swift train into Lon- mob. Going down from Loudon to 
don. Louis Blanc used to say thai, in Portsmouth, one day in midsnnnner, I 
France, there was '• an abyss between the observed that all my fellow-travellers in 
citv and the conntry." Sni'clv there is the compartment looked out of the win- 
also a sliMrp separation and difference in dow with great eagerness, and presently 
England between town nnd country. I discovered they were noting the 
The wealthy Englishman di'lights in game; that whenever a grouse appeared, 
rusticity lie apes none of the foreitrn or a hare scudded away to shelter, they 
distaste for green meadows and for rol Mist found an nmonnt fif (ileasiire in the 
exerci-es. Ninety-nine Eiigli'-hmen out spectacle which it was ipiite out of iny 
of one hundri'd fei'l a thrill when (lar- power to share. These people live close 
ticipatiiig in the vigorous sports of the t() Nature, finding a charm in the con- 
countrv-'^iile : the fox hunt, with its ti'ast of Nature's wildness in one region 
brutal pursuit of the wily but tleet enemy with hei' complete subjugation to and 
of the farmer: the leaping of fences mariiage with art in another close beside 
and water-i'om-ses ; the iieavy fall; the it^ The era of small farms, minute sub- 
assemblage o\er the sherry liottle before divisions of tilled laud, — which would 
and after the riile. and the discussion do away with the great '■ plantations," 
after dinner of the dav's outing. The ;is thev are calle<l. and with the unculti- 
blissful glow which follows a complete vated phices where one who can pay for 
use of bodily streu'ith all day in the tlie privilege mav hunt as frequently as 
open air is thought finer bv nianv an primitive man did. — would be looked 
Englishman tlian the Italian's ecstatic lie- upon as an unfortunate period l>v hmi- 
light at the opera, or the ( )rientars semi- dreds of thousands of Englishmen. The 
swoon in the raiitnre induced by peifect arriv:d of tin' peasant proin'ietor on the 
climate and lack of aggressive nerves. si'eue would br tliou^ht to take away its 
Everywhere in the country one tinds chief attraction Yet that advent is near 
noble houses, line lawns, beautifully kept at hand. In many a conntry a rich land- 



ECROPIl IN STORM AND CALM. 



(i3i 



owner finds Iiis tenant-faimers giving np open hy the aristocriit, and by-and-by 

ditlieul- 
istoerat 



in disgust muler tlie pressnre of forcigu 
agricultural competition, bad seasons, and 
poor iiarvc'sts. The gentleman owner 
discovers that he must let land lie fallow 
and the agricultuial laborer is driven 
l)y sheer distress to think of creating 
an indeijcndent position. Tenant- 
larniers, whei'e they are not disposed to 
give up, are becoming more exacting. 
Troubles rise out of the very soil to 
cluster about the once iia|)|)y and tlior- 



discovers that he is heir to the 
ties in presence of which the arii 




STOPPINO THE HTNTING. 



oughly independent landed proiuietor. 
The great ai'istocrats make concessions 
in the hope of tiding over tiie temporary 
difficulties, incomes are diminislied, and 
l)eople shift their investments from land 



had lost Ills courage. Yet land is the 
tiling most coveted by men of newly 
accpiired wealth in England, and will lie 
so for many a long year to come. The 
" Statesman's Year Hook " of 1.S84 shows 



in England to land in Dak(jta or Egypt, that while the cultivated area in the 
The plutocrat pops into the i)lace left kingdom has increased by nearly ten 



638 



EUROPE IX STOHM AX/J CALM. 



tli()ii!;anil ;ici-cs siuee 1S81, the area lui- 
tler all kinds (if vri>i»i lia.s decruasod by 
forty tlioiisaud acres. 

Ju London one gets tlie idea that Eng- 
land is |)eri)lexed with a thousand ditlieul- 
lies, — annoyed by innumerable anxie- 
ties. The atmosphere is one of unrest. 
The talk is 'of a niilitar}' expedition to 
some remote eountry, the baps and 
mishaps of commerce, the phases of the 
'•Eastern (Question," the consolidation 
of the Colonial Empire, the future of 
Eg\ pt, the advance of Russia, the com- 
petition of America, and the discontent 
of Ireland. But it is easy to get out 
of Ibis atraosi)here of uncertainty and 
ambition into a serener England, where 
the present in nowise disturbs the repose 
of the past and the beauty of its ac- 
cnniuhue<l memorials. However much 
Loudon may be convulsed with stormy 
discussions which seem to involve the 
future of the whole British Empire, the 
peasants and liie middle classes one or 
1 wi^ hu:i(beil mill's awa}' from the capi- 
tal are but litth' interested by these 
d 'bites. In the iileasant country towns 
things go on in the .same old dreamy 
and tranquil way in which they have 
been progressing for hundreds of yeai'S. 
The great land-owner is secure in his 
castle, and appears unconscious of the 
liery nlicrances of l\Ir. C'hamlierlain. 
The "Squire" is not in the slightest 
fear of approaching revolution, and the 
]ieasautry seem scarcely to have hcaid 
of the great change.^ supposed to be im- 
])ending. There is little doubt that they 
all know that a silent transformation is 
b 'ginning ; liut they make little allusion 
to it. 

The rni'al beauty of England is so 
great tliat the Englishman is cxcus,al)le 
for the extreme pride which he takes 
in it, and for his enthusiasm in the de- 
6crii)tion of it. In no English novel or 



essay will there he found nuich sighing 
after the soft South, with its semi-tropi- 
cal warmth and profusion of flowers. 
The Northerner rejoices in the I'ugged- 
ncss of his hills, his stormy shores, his 
mysterious mists and fogs, his quaint 
rocks and inlets. JMidland people boast 
of their great parks and noble pastures, 
their splendid castles and well-kept 
fai-ms ; and the Southerners, of thegrassy 
downs, and sheltered nooks where even 
exotic shrubs prosper, and where in 
snuuner there is a luxuriance of \egeta- 
tion and blossom worthy of the Medi- 
terranean shores. If one wishes to get 
an adequate notion of the supreme con- 
tent of the Englishman with his island 
home let him attack its advantages and 
belittle its excellences. lie will soon 
find sturdy responses to all his strictures 
and criticisms. Both the English and 
Erench are fond of comparing every- 
thing they see abroad with something at 
home, and of making comparisons advan- 
tageous to their own possessions. 

A curious feature of the country dis- 
tricts iu England is often remarked, par- 
ticularly by American travellers. Al- 
though it is said that Great Britain is 
intensely populated the country does 
not appear to be so thickly settled as in 
the older portions of the United States. 
Thousands of acres art given up to " plan- 
tations " of young trees. One may travel 
miles without meeting a human being or 
witliout seeing .a farm. The roads, ex- 
ce|)tiug in the vicinity of the great 
manufacturing towns, are never crowded. 
Driving or walking through Warwick- 
shire or Derliyshire one does not meet at 
every turn, as in Erance, Belgium, and 
other continental countries, peasants 
going to and coming from market, or 
working by the roadside, or bands of 
strollers. One is often tempted to stop 
and inquire where the people have gone. 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



G39 



The ancient towns seem unlikely to be 
awakened from their immemorial sleep. 
The liirtli-plaee of Shakespeare is as 
quiet as it was three hundred years 
ago. 

In AVarwickshire, in Derbyshire, and 
in the Lake Region, the rural beauty of 
England is manifest in its perfection. 
Here are no mighty glens, no lofty 
mountains, no enormous lakes or majes- 
tic streams ; but, although everything is 
on a modest scale, it forms a harmo- 
nious picture which is absolutely enchant- 
ing. Stratford, with its quaint streets, 
its sleepy church among the uoble trees, 
its flowery lanes bordered by com- 
fortable cottages; Warwick, with its 
ancient hospital and its noble castle ; 
Charlecote, where Sir Thomas Lucy, 
whom Shakespeare lampooned as " Jus- 
tice Shallow," built a rambling hall in 
Queen Elizalietli's reign ; Hampton Lucy 
Luddington, in whose church Shake- 
speare is said to have been married ; 
Coventry, with its numerous spires, its 
legends and its embowered streets — 
all these in midsummer are surpassingly 
beautiful. To go from London to Bir- 
mingham by the old highway, the travel 
on which is said to have contributed 
to the up-building of Stratford before 
Shakespeare's birth in that town had 
made it a place of pilgrimage, takes 
one through the exquisite Arden dis- 
trict, where the hedges, woods and cop- 
pices, the gentle hills, the beautiful valleys, 
tlie " mooted granges " of which Tenny- 
son speaks, the winding streams and wild 
glens, offer a perpetual feast to the eyes. 

Stratford itself is familiar to all the 
world, and I therefore shall not attempt 
to describe it. The Shakespeare house, 
where " Nature nursed her darling boy," 
has somewhat the aspect of a museum, 
and the temptation to meditate within 
its walls is lessened by the business- 



like air with whicli the custodians exact 
sixpence for access to the birth-room, 
and sixpence to the museum. At tlie 
tercentenary Shakespeare anniversary 
and festival, held at Stratford in 1879, 
there was a great gathering of Shake- 
spearian scholars and commentators, and 
of the lovers of poetry and the drama, 
to witness the dedication of the IMemo- 
rial Theatre, which now stands in a [ileas- 
ant garden on the banks of the river. 
This simple and unpretentious festival, 
which lasted for several days, seemed to 
awaken but small enthusiasm among the 
country people in the neighborhood, 
some of whom would peihaps have been 
l)nzzle(l to tell wlio Shakespeare was. 
But no monument can be so appropri- 
ate as this stately pile of Klizaliethan 
architectiu'e — this theatre, with museum, 
library, and pictiue-gallery, attached. 
A company of London comedians per- 
formed the comedy of " Much Ado About 
Nothing." Actors and actresses, in the 
intervals of their labor, joined in pretty 
excursions in the evergreen byways and 
the verdurous fields. Perhaps some day 
there will be founded a school of acting, 
the influence of wliich will do nuich to 
improve the public taste for Shakespeare 
and his works. The tlieatre is but a 
little distance from the village chureii, and 
above the tomb in this church is the old 
monument which represents Shakespeare 
writing upon a cushion, witli an entabla- 
ture bearing his coat-of-arms above the 
niclie in which his image appears. 

The famous Inns at Stratford are small 
and quaint. The "Red Horse" has 
lieen immortalized by Washington Irv- 
ing, and the Shakespeare Hotel has its 
rooms adorned with paintings illustrating 
the chief scenes in the great poet's com- 
edies and tragedies. The waiters in tiiis 
unique hostelry have long been ac- 
customed to designate each room by the 



640 EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 

name of tlic |ilay from which its iiaintiiiji' iiifinhcr. (Jlil Ilattou, in tiie eightciMith 

is taki'ii, and in the nn)rnin<i', l>i'f()re the ci'iitui-v, made a propliecy concerning tlie 

gnests iiave emerged, one lieais the rutin-e grandeur of industrial ISirming- 

servants calling out: '•Hamlet wants liam. He said: "We have only seen 

his hoots ; Ophelia wants his hot water ; liei- in infancy, comparatively small in 

Julius C'a'snr wants his brandy and water ; her size, h(.>mely in her person, and gross 

C^oriolainis wishes his breakfast sent in her dress, — her ornaments mostly of 

up ;it once." 'riu'oughont Warwickshire iioii from iier own forge; but now her 

the cc I'ln people have :i curious flavor gi'owth will lie amazing, her ex|)ausiou 

in their s|ieech, a dry huuKjr, and odd rapid, jierhaps not to lie paralleled iu 

forms of expression, wlueh it is perhaps history. She will add to her iron oi'na- 

not presumiituons to characterize as nients the lustre of every metal that 

Sh:dves[)earian. In drawing his peasantry the whole earth can produce, with all 

till' poet simply put his immortal wit ami their illustrious race of compounds, 

his pungent philosophy into the homely heightened by fancy and garnished 

pinaM' which he heard every day around with jewels. She will draw from 

him; ami a great contemporary ncjvclist, the fossil and vegetable kingdoms; 

in following this illustrious example, press the ocean for her shell, skin and 

shows that the men of England can coral. She will also tax the animals 

talk to-day as picturesquely as they did for horn, bone, and ivory ; and she will 

three centuries ago. decorate the whole with the ttiuches of 

III liirminghani one steps out of the her pencil." 
domain of history and souvenir, and liirminghani li;is done all this, even 
comes down to the pnisaic (iresent. more. To the far Orient she sends or- 
Hirmingham has no older history than naments of every dcscriiitiou ; to Prussia, 
that of many of the towns of New to India, and to Ameiica, she exports 
Knglanil. It took no part in the brass and iron, steel and silver, and 
politii's of the nation liefore the be- lironze and. gold. She enrages the 
ginning <il' the present century, except French by making their •• ^[rticles de 
wlieii ('harles 1. and his Parliament Pact.s,'"' she makes copper coins for half- 
were at w:ir. Then Birmingham was a-dozen governments. Her silver and 
zealous in the canse of the '■ Rcmnd her electro-plating, her lirass foundries. 
Heads," and even seized the Royal her chemical works, her guns, swords, 
plate which KingC^harles left when pass- pistols, jewelry and trinkets, l:er lampis, 
iiig through the town from Salisbury to her pins, her ornamental glass, — these 
London. l')iriningh:im was (innished for are scattered over the world. " Tiie 
this audacious act by Prince Rupert's Toyshop of p]urope" is a proper nauie 
plundering expeilition on the following for Birndughaui. She aiiplies the same 
year. It seems odd to reflect that Piir- energy and patience to the fabrication 
mingham had no representation in Par- of a pin that she does to the coustruc- 
liament until after the pa.ssage of the tion of an hydraulic jack big enough 
Reform Hill of bS.'VJ, — a triumph for to launch the Cireat Eastern, or raise the 
which the Political Union had worked Cleopatra Needle to its pedestal on the 
vigorously. Not until after the repre- Thames embankment. Her public binld- 
sentatiou of '-The People's Act," in iugs auti parks, her statues, her non- 
18G6, did Birmingham get its third conformist churches; her memorials of 



EUROI'E IN STORM AND CALM. 



()41 



Peel and Priestly, Watt and Boulton, "Adam Bedo." 
Murdock and I'-gliiiCTtoii ; her halls, from ancient Peacock 
w b i c h h a v i' 
gone forth such 
splendid utter- 
ances in favor 
of Liheralisni, 
— areallwortliy 
of her wealth 
and the taste 
of her citizens. 
The varied in- 
dustrj', how- 
ever, has left 
its stain on tlie 
town, which, 
likeManchest<>r 
and LiveriMxil, 
is ding}', cold, 
and a trifle ro- 
pellant in a]i- 
jiearance. 

Hawthorne 
states that in 
Derbyshire is 

to he found the most exquisite scenery he crags, lilled. with 
ever beheld. Thither George Eliot went ing streams, and 
for the scenery and her characters for 




GEORGE ELIOT. 



Rowsley, and the 

Inn ; the old seats 
of the Dukes 
of Rutland ; 
stately Chats- 
worth, with its 
long halls filled 
with drawinus 
by Raphael, 
and with its 
costly gardens, 
conservatories, 
orchid houses ; 
Matlock, Buck- 
stone, Bickwell 
and Words- 
worth, Ilard- 
wick Hall and 
Bolsover Cas- 
tle, — stand in 
the midst of 
romantic val- 
leys, walled in 
by rocky and 
foliage - clad 
ii'rottos, nooks, charm- 
well-kept forests. 



642 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



CHAPTER .SEVENTY-THREE. 



Till' IjaUe Countiy. — The Home of Poets and Essayists. — Scothiinl. — (ilasgow, its Commerce and its 
Antiquities. — Tlie Great Nortlicrn Seaport. — Edinl)urgli ami its Memorials. — The Home of 
Burns. — In the Footsteps of .Sir Walter tScott. — Melrose. — l)r_vliur;,'h .^bljcy. 



THE " Lake Country " of Enghiiid 
lirtts for lis a ilouhle inti'iost be- 
ctuise of the indefinable cliarin asso- 
ciated witli its rielily clad liills, its pretty 
ex|iaiisos (jf water, and its rich valleys, 
and because the district was once the 
home of "Words wortli, De Qiiincey. 
Sonthey, Arnold, Harriet JNIartinean, and 
Mrs. Heniaus. Tiiere are in all this 
district no monntains which rise above 
the height of four thonsand feet, no 
lakes wliich we should account large ; 
but lake and vtdley, and forests and 
country roads, are all in the most ex- 
quisite setting. Here and there, on the 
''Fells" :ind "Scars," as they are 
called, there are bits of wild scenery 
approaching the grand. One should 
enter this district by Grange, after cross- 
ing what Wordsworth called " the majes- 
tic barrier of the Lancaster sands," ;nid 
which annually demands the lives of 
many nncaiitions travellers ; and after 
an excursion to old Furness Abliey and 
t(j LTlverstone, one may set off through 
the crunililing villages and sheltered 
roads to'^V indermere and Coniston, near 
which latter lake John Ruskin has ;i 
coinitry-seat. Thence one may go t(j 
Ambleside, where a day or two at tlie 
old "Salutation" tavern will lie found 
a perfect rest. This pretty conntiy is 
dotted with mansions and iiicturesipie 
cottages. At Elleray stood the olil 
home of Professor Wilson (Christopher 
North). Close by Amlileside is the ivy- 
shrouded house or " The Knoll," where 



JMiss Martineau lived for many years. 
Not far away is Dr. Arnold's old house, 
where (he great Rugb3' master used to 
come in vacation time to recruit from 
his arduous duties. In the vale of Gras- 
mere Mrs. Henums wrote some of her 
most sentimental verse. De (iuincey and 
Wordsworth both lived for short |ieriods 
in Grasniere village, and there in the 
humble church-yard is the grave of 
Words wortii. 

It is but a short walk from Amble- 
side to Rydal Mmnit, the favorite home 
of the poet. — a charming cottage hid- 
ilen under ivy and rose-trees, the very 
place for contemiilation aud the cultiva- 
tion of the muse. Professor Wilson 
used to say there was " not such another 
splendid view in all England as can be 
had from the eminences along the road 
from Ambleside. The views of Winder- 
mere from this route are indeed delight- 
ful. The islands lie clustered together; 
the lakes seem like a grand tranquil river 
bending around a point. Bold or 
gentle promontories," adds Professor 
Wilson, '■ break all the banks into fre- 
quent bays, seldom without a cottage, 
or cottages, emliowered in trees, and 
tlie whole landscaiie is of a sylvan kind ; 
pai'ts of it are so studded with \\oods 
that you see only here and there a wreatli 
of smoke, but no houses, and could al- 
most believe that you were gazing on 
the primeval forests." 

From Ambleside to Keswick the route 
is charming, and in holiday time is 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



643 



thronged with excnrsionists from London. 
At Kes\\ick is tlie old home of Soiitbey, 
— Greta Hall, — on a small hill, close by 
a pretty river, on the road to Cocker- 
mouth. Lake Derwcntwater, with its 
picturesque islands, with its silvery ex- 
panses, within an aniphitlieatre of njiky 
but not high n:ountains, l)roken into 
fantastic shapes, heaped and splintered 
with little precipices, with shores swelling 
into woody eminences — is the gem of 
this region. Near it is the resounding 
cascade, Lodore, aliout which Southey 
wrote his astonishing verses, intended 
to represent the babble of the waters, 
fur the amusement of his children. 
Near by also are the mountains of 
Helvellyn and Skiddaw. 

Scotland has for ns a romantic in- 
terest which nothing can abate, although 
long years have passed since the " en- 
chanter of the north " aroused the cu- 
riosity of the world concerning the 
legends and the history of the great 
northward promontory, with its moun- 
tains, morasses, and waste lands jutting 
out into the Norlhern sea. Scotland 
does not impress one as a sterile country, 
and yet three-fourths of its surface are 
uni)n)ductive agriculturally. Scarcely 
more than five millions of acres are 
under cultivation on the main laud and 
the numerous islands. But the little 
population of hardly more than four 
millions of peo|)le is one of the most 
prosperous and interesting in Europe. 
Glasgow is to-day the second city in tlie 
United Kingdom, larger, but perhaps 
not wealthier, than Liverpool, and is one 
of the great ocean termini of the world. 
Approaching Glasgow by night, through 
the ))icturesque upland country which 
lies between Keswick, Penrith, and 
Carlisle, and crossing the deV)atable 
ground where for centuries the borderers 
waged merciless war upon each other. 



the strange land which has produced so 
many great men, — the land where C'arlyle 
was born, and where he lies buried, — one 
sees the landscape lighted up by hun- 
dreds of weird flames, the skies aglow ; 
and many a stranger, taking his first 
walk in Glasgow city, inquires of the 
anuised i)assers-by where the great con- 
flagration is in progress. By day the 
flaming chiiinjeys and the little moun- 
tains of coal refuse do not look so 
interesting. Glasgow has its beauties, 
however, — its liroad and solid commer- 
cial avenues, lined with stately stone 
buildings, its shops, which vie in splen- 
dor and importance with those of London 
and Dublin. The great wharves along 
the Broomielaw are packed with goods 
of every description ; little steamers on 
the LIpper, and great steamers on the 
Lower, Clyde, seem almost innumerable. 
Down river the ship building yards are, 
even in dull and panicky times, crowded 
with thousands of operatives, who toil 
upon tlie iron and steel monsters, which 
plough the seas thi-onghout the civilized 
world. One feels that here is a great 
outlet like London, Antwerp, or JLar- 
seilles. Here the pulse of commerce 
beats strongly, albeit not feverishly. 

There is a sturdy independence of the 
metropolis in Glasgow, as indeed through- 
out Scotland. The names of celebrated 
English authorities in science and in 
literature, of English poets and painters, 
are not so often heard here as those of 
the Edinliurgh school. Scotland is not 
England, although it is now an integral 
part of Great Britain. It is an individual 
country, with a profound originality, with 
its old customs and methods of thought 
but little trenched upon In' political luiioii 
witli the South. One-third of its poi)nhi- 
tion is [lacked into eight large manufact- 
uring cities: Glasgow with 770,000, 
Edinburgh with 230,000, Dundee with 



644 EUIiOJ'E IN STORM AND CALM. 

14:5,01)0, Aberdeen with 105, OtK), Gi'oeii- the l:iw to execute the decree. From 
oek, the port of Ghisgow, with 00, 001), many a point of vantage among tlie vast 
Leitli, the port of Edinburgh, with iV.l, 000, marble monuments in tlie Necropolis 
Paisley with 55,000, and Perth uith I'S.- one can look out over Glasgow, with its 
000. The total tciwn and village popu- thousaiuls of chimneys, along the seem- 
lation is two-thirds (;l' tlie whcile, — very ingly endless lines of masts on the Clyde, 
small encouragement for the farmer; yi't and (jver the hills of Lanark and Argyll, 
the wild hill country, stretching away from aliove which hangs the vaiiorous blue or 
the outskirts of (ilasgow to Cape Wrath the peculiar gray so noticeable in Scottish 
and the far Hebrides, contributes largely scenery. Glasgow is faithful to the 
to the wealth of the busy city; jjours memory of the great " Scotch Wizard ; " 
into it its flocks and herds, aud the prod- and in the centre of CJeorge's square 
uce t>f its lakes and inlets, and takes rises a nKiniunent of Sir Waller, with a 
liack merchandise brought from every grouf) of statues illustrating the different 
jiort of the world. In the most seem- characters which sprang from his teem- 
ingly inaccessible nook in the Highlands ing brain clustered about the foot of the 
you may find evidence of frecjuent inter- monumiMit. Westward, in modern Glas- 
coursi^ with the outer world. gow, is the great University, opened 
On the hill at the top of the famous half a generation ago. ( i lasgow is filled 
"High Street" stands tlie old (iothic with students, — hundreds of [iainstaking 
cathedral, with its large aisles, broken l)y young men who come from the hills and 
short transepts, its dozen bays exactly the shores of the inland lakes and rivers 
alike, and its uniform elere-story windows, to carve out solid careers in the face 
Nothing in all England is more beautiful of poverty and ditliculty, nowhere 
than the crypt of the cathedral, with its so stern and so persistent as in this 
sixt\-five beautiful pillars, surmounted strangi", barren land, which yet produces 
by delicately carved capitals and grace- so nnich wealth, inlellectual anil material, 
ful early English arches, with the light As in certain quarters of Tjondon one 
streaming in through the lancet windows, seems to go hand in hand with Dickens, 
Curious, too, is the old rhiu'ch-yaid, and to meet in the dillerent localities 
paved with gravestones, and the Necroii- visited the characters which never had 
oils, perched high on an eminence beyond existence save in his liciy imagination, 
the cathedral, not unlike the fantastic so in (ihisgow and Edinburgh one is 
Odd Fellows' cemetery in San Francisco, constantly reminded of Sir Walter Scott 
or like some ancient Turkish cemetery, and his creations. The Cross, the Gal- 
Here are tli<' momiments of celebrated lowgate, the Salt Maiket, the old coiner 
men like John Knox, the Iteforuier, and of Trcuigate aud High stri'i'ts, where 
of Dr. Wm. lilack ; and within the cathe- stood the prison into which " Uob Roy" 
dral is the tomb of Edward Irving. This was thrList in Glasgow . and the Grass 
old catheilral. which bravedthe fury of the market. Castle Hill, the Covvgate, St. 
Reformation, was so loved by llie city Gik's's Clun-ch, Arthur's Seat. Cannon- 
nestling at its feet, that, when the Pres- gate. Huh rood, anil most of all, Mel- 
byteriau ministers had pjrevailed on the rose, in and about ICdinburuh. recall 
magistrates in the sixteentli century to to mind those enchanting days wlien one 
have it destroyed, the gLiilds of the city was first iiitroduced to Walter Si-ott's 
arose iu arms and dared the otlicers of world. The Scotch do not hesitate to 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



645 



call Edinhnrfjh tbe finest city in tlic 
kingdom, and Mr. Baddeley tells us tliat 
in \M) rily. unless it lie Bath, " has Art 
so sueccsst'ullj' turned to account tiie 
peculiar advantages vouchsafed to her 
by nature. In both cities the archi- 
tects, whether designedl}' or not, .seem 
to have gone to work thoroughly in har- 
mony with the physical lines laid down 
for them, and their success is unques- 
tionable. While the smooth green slopes 
and wood}' meadows, forming the girdle 
of the ' Queen of the West,' called 
forth a regular style of architecture 
which sliuuld not displease the eye by 
any startling discord, the rugged inequali- 
ties and sudden transition from smiling 
jilain to b:ire and frowning rock, which 
niarli tlie site of the ' jNIodern Athens,' 
seem to demand a corresponding incon- 
gruity in their artificial treatment. 
P^dinburgh is a city of contrasts, bold 
and .striking." 

1 he sense of contrast is heightened 
wlien one comes directly b^' swift ex- 
piess train from Glasgow to Edinburgh. 
Unaccustomed to picturesqueness in the 
great majority of British towns, the 
stianger is startled and delighted at the 
exquisite scene presented to him as he 
looks from hill to hill over the town and 
the rugged castles, the noble monuments, 
and the fine [inlilic edifices. New Edin- 
burgh harmonizes well enough with the 
character of ancient Edinburgh, and this 
result, so rarely accomplished when an- 
cient cities have modern quarters added 
to them, has not been achieved without 
ranch study and care. This new quarter 
was not in existence a century ago, and 
the magistiates of the city, in order to 
promote its creation, offered a premium 
of £l'() to the first Imilder of a house in 
it. Now it is a great district of line 
sti'eets, squares, and monuments 

Prince's street, witii its evergreen [dots, 



its gardens, its deep dell, out of which 
arise the lilack era'^s of the Castle, is a 
splendid avenue. At its cast end is 
Calton Hill, and above it Waterloo 
Place, where stands a ratlier audacious 
imitation of the Parthenon, called •' The 
National Monument." A little beyond 
are the Nelson's monument and tlie 
()I)servatory ; also the monuments to 
Uugald Stewart and to Professor Play- 
fair. Nortliward lies Leith and the 
Forth ; eastward, Portobello, one of 
the sea-side resorts of Edinburgh ; and 
close at hand is Arthur's Seat. On tlie 
south side of the street, and not far 
from tiie handsome Waverly station, is 
the beautiful gothic monument to Sir 
W^alter Scott, with a statue of him 
underneath the airy arches. In the 
niches, as in the Glasgow memorial, arc 
characters from the works of the great 
poet, and novelist. Scotland has bor- 
rowed boldly from the Greek architec- 
ture in the construction of its National 
Gallery, and its museums In Palmer- 
ston Place stands a fine Gothic Cathe- 
dral, — St. Mary's, — founded by two 
ladies, who spent £100,000 uiwn the 
edifice. Eastward, in Melville and 
George streets, are many memorials 
and bronze statues, the Albert Memo- 
rial, with the Prince Consoit on horse- 
back, and the Jlelville Mouninent, — 
an imitation of the Trajan Column. 

The great feature of Edinbingh is the 
Castle, which may be reached from the 
new town across the valley of the Piin- 
ces Street Gardens, — once the basin of 
the Nor Loch, in which offenders against 
the laws were ducked, — and so along 
by the Waveily Bridge, or the " Mound," 
as it is called, on which stands the 
National Gallery. Tiie Castle is entered 
through a portrtdllt, gate under the Old 
State Prison, whence two luckless 
Argylis, in tlie historv of Scotland, have 



(U6 



EUROPE IN SITOHM AND rALIf. 



been takoii foitli to execution, — one 
for his loyaltv to t'liailes II., ;iud the 
Other for liis allegianee to Monmouth. 
Those rather antiquated bits of furni- 
ture, — the Regalia of Scothxnd, — have 
a I'oom to themselves, where they have 
reposed since tliey were unearthed two 
generations ago by a search-party, 
headed liy .Sir Walter Scott himself. 
They had been hidden away in the times 
of the Stuarts, in a fortress on the coast 
at Kincardine, lost their exposure to view 
should awaken feelings hostile to the 
treaty of Union witii England. Queen 
Mary's room, St. Margaret's Cliapel, 
and the enclosure in which stands the 
ancient cannon, tiie origin of whose 
name of Mons Meg is a matter of sncli 
grave dispute, are tiie other chief features 
of the Castle. The outlook over Edin- 
burgh and tlie Frith of Forth and the 
hills of Fife beyond is fascinating. On 
Castle Hill, the old house of the fust 
Duke of Gordon, the General Assembly 
room of the Cluirch of Scotland, where 
John Knox met the first Assembly in 
15G0 ; the Free Church Assembly Hall ; 
the Grass Market, where hundreds of 
Covenanters perished for their religion, 
and where the Porteous riots took place 
in 173(); Grey Friars' Church, with the 
tombs of the Covenanters ; the university 
and museum vvitii their splendid natural 
history collections ; Cowgate, James's 
court, where Johnson was receive<l by 
Boswell on his tour to the Western 
higlilands, and where Hume wrote part 
of his liistory of England ; the Long- 
market and High street, with St. Giles's 
Church ; the old city Cross, the ToUiooth, 
or " The Heart of Midlothian ;" Parlia- 
ment .square, with its equestrian statue 
of Charles II. and the humble stone on 
which appear the letters and figures 
"I. K., 1572," supposed to be the site 
of John Knox's grave ; Parliament 



House, with its noble roofs of carved 
oak, and its superli library ; the Tron 
Cluireh, where stood the weighing-beam 
to which the keepers of false weights 
were nailed by the ears ; the high, fan- 
tastic, narrow house in winch John Knox 
lived from 1559 to the Unic of his death : 
Moray House, from tlie balcony of 
which Mary Stuart and Lord Lome 
looked down upon the Marquis of Mont- 
rose as he was led to execution ; the 
Canongate church-yaid, where lie buried 
Adam Smith, Dugald Stewart, and Dr. 
Adam Ferguson ; Queensberry House 
and the old While Horse Inn ; and 
last, and of most importance, the beauti- 
ful and original Holy rood Alibey and 
Palace, — these are wonders and treas- 
ures such as few other towns in Great 
Britain can boast of, grouped togetlier 
by accident as well as if the grouping 
had been in obedience to some harmo- 
nious, preconceived design. In Holy- 
rood Lord Darnley's rooms and Queen 
Mary's apartments are still shown, and 
at the entrance to the audience chamber 
a little dark stain upon the floor is pointed 
out as the blood of the unfortunate 
Rizzio. 

From Glasgow and from Edinburgh 
the chief excursions are not, as might 
be supposed in a country so devoted to 
manufacturing and to the special pursuit 
of wealth, to coal mines, or great metal- 
lurgic establishments, but to the homes 
and graves of poets and romancers. The 
))rief and pleasant ride from Glasgow 
takes one through interesting <^ld towns 
like Paisley, where Christopher North 
was born ; liUc Irvine, where Robert 
Bruce surrendered to the English army, 
and where the poet Montgomery first 
saw the light ; past Troon, the great 
suunner resort of the Ayrshires, near by 
the frowning ruins of DimdowuingCastle, 
and brings one to Ayr, on the pretty sea- 



EVUnPE IN RTORM AND CALM. 



(U7 



coast at the mouth of tlip river of tho was married to Jean Armour, and wiiere 

same name. Here, on this pifturi'sque his ploiisjh tnnied np the mouse's nest ; 

coinitry side, everything is filled with and farther away, near Dumfries, is 

memories of the poet whose lyrie genius Ellisland larrti. where Bmns wrote Tarn 

lifted him into immortality- Here one 

may wander along the Doon, visit the 

Burns iiioiunnent. in wliieh may still be 

seen the Bible which Burns gave to " Higli- 

land Mary," note the quaint statues of 

Tam O'Shanter and Sonter Jf>linnie, in a 

grotto, [leep in at the Auld Alloway _iL 

Kirk, the woodwork of wiiieh has nearly 

all been carried off by the carving toin'- 




DEER-STAI.KINU IN TIIK HHiHI,ANDB. 



ists, and enter the rude cottage in whidi O'Shanter and the ode ■•To Mary iu 

the poet was born. .Straying through Heaven." Thousands of pilgrims an- 

the woods and fields from Mauehline to nually visit the humble house iu Dum- 

Monto-omerie. one comes upon the pretty fries, where Burns lived when lie was 

house where '' Highland Mary" lived as exciseman, whore he died, and where, in 

a dairy-maid, and " Poosie Nansie's " tlie vault beneath tlie mausoleum iu St. 

cottage, where the "Jolly Beggars" i'Miehael's church-yard, the |ioet ami bis 

met : the farm at Mossgiel, where Burns w ife repose. 



648 



Eunori-: in urouM axd calm 



C'iiAPTi:u si;vi-:nty-fouh. 

.Sciill;in{l :u)cl IrilMiid. — Tlie Scotch ]Ii;;Iilaiiil-^. — Irenes oT Scott's Stories ami IJiiiiis s roeuis. — 
r.almoiMl. — Ovci- to r.rlfust. — The Irisli Land IjCa;jiic. — Imprisonment of Parnell and liis Parti- 
sans. — Tlie Crimes Act and its Canses. — A Land Lca'^'ue jNIass jMectin;;. — Tlic Wild and Sava;,'e 
I^■asaMtr^■. 



JX Ihc Si'olch Iliohhiiids llu' "Clulic 
Tidltcr," who is faniilhir with wtiitely 
liiountaiiis, with yawning i)rec'iiii«'s, unil 
uolili' sea vii'ws, ffom Iiiilia t(i Canada, 
is often tcniittcd to stoj) and inquire of 
himself wiiethei- lie woidd really he inter- 
ested in the Scottish nplands and hills 
if it were not for tlieir sturdy charm. 
Loch Lomond, with its guardian moun- 
tains ; Loch Katrine, Stronachlaehar, 
Tarhet, Callendtir, (Jhau, the Caledonian 
Canal, Inverness, the lamls of Ross ami 
Sutherland, the Kle of Lewis, with 
pretty Stornoway ; the Isle of Skye, the 
Chain ol" Highlands, St:iffa and lona ; 
the Crinaii canal, thieading its w;iy 
through the moist green [lastiires, — these 
places iire all celebrated ; but ■without 
the eiitlnisiastio celebrati<.>u of them by 
writers and poets native to the soil they 
would have remained in comfoi'table ob- 
scurity, enjoye<l only by the shepherd, 
the fisher, anil the bold hunter on the 
steep mountain siiles A certain inde- 
finable attraction seems to exhale from 
iScoteh scenerv, even in the disi)ii-itiiig 
environment of Ihe mists uhiih come so 
freiiuentlv and stay mi long. ()ut of the 
gretit grav clouds come dashing little 
showeis, which seem to ha\"(.' a kind of 
malice, ami drench the tiaviller to the 
skill liefiire he ciiii reach shelter. In 
these rains and nii^ls, the lochs, with 
their dceii mountain walls, disappear as 
if bv maoi<\ 'I'hi' holiday tourist, whose 
time is limited, bemoans his sad fate 



when he crosses Loch Lomond without 
seeing the peaks and crags of which he 
has heard so much, and concerning which 
he has formed such tremendous expec- 
tations. In the Trossachs (the bristly 
country) when the sun shines brightly 
through the oak copses, among tlie sil- 
very gray birches, and when it gilils the 
purjile crags and the rich carpets of 
green grass, there is iilenty of excuse 
for the wildest enthusiasm. The color 
charms of Scotland arc mild as com- 
[larccl with those of Switzerland and 
Italy, but to the dweller under the gray 
and rainy skies of England they seem 
surpassingly beautiful. (Uasgow, which 
is by all reports one of the thirstiest 
towns in the three kingdoms, and which 
does not always content itself with w.ater, 
has made Loch Katrine, which is thirty- 
four miles from the city limits, its chief 
reservoir. For the building of the aque- 
duct from the lake to the city a sum of 
£1 ,.')()(1, (111(1 was necessary, and seventy 
tunnels had to be relniilt. The leafy 
glens filled with labyrinths of rocks, and 
mounds sluilded with oak, rowan, and 
birch, are peiha|is more weird in a rainy 
than in a sun^liiny day ; but the greater 
part of Scotch scenery needs sunshine 
to biing out its values. 

One of the noMest stivtchi's of High- 
land scenerv is that which lies along the 
rtiihoad from Calleudar to the great 
fashionable setiside of Oban. The ride 
from the Trossachs to Callemlar is from 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



(UK 



end to end associated with Sir Walter 
Scott's poem of " Tlie Lady of tlie Lake." 
At tlie foot of Loch Veiiiiachar the tniv- 
eller is shown the spot where Roderick 
Dhu flung down his gage to Fitz James. 
It is a high tribute to creative genius that 
the guides always speak of vSir Walter 
Scott's characters as if they had really 
lived. The route from Callendar to 
Oban takes one through the pass of 
Lucy, where gentle heights, clad with 
silver birch, hazel, oak, and hentlicr. 
rise gradually into irregular and majes- 
tic hills. Loch Earn, Glenogle, rilchuru 
Castle, Loch Awe, the passes of Uraudou 
and of Awe, the bridge of Awe, — around 
which cluster memories of Bruce and 
Wallace, — and Duustaffuage Castle, are 
all picturesque, and uiauy of them im- 
posiug. O'liau is a iiretty town extend- 
iug along the shore of the semicircular 
bay which gives it its name, and which 
seems laudlockeil by the i?.land Kerrera. 
From DnnnoUy Castle, a nolile ivy- 
shrouded rniu, on a pedestal of rock ou 
the north end of Oban bay, the sea-view 
is delightful. In the harbor lie dozens 
of yachts, and from these little crafts there 
is always an influx of titled and aristo- 
cratic ladies and gentlemen, who fill tlie 
hotels with the show and glitter of Lon- 
don ; who delight in parties, mountain 
excursions, and lialls ; who, in shoit, 
carry into the rem<.)te recesses of the 
highland sea-shore the gayety of the 
metropolis, exactly as the Frenchman 
takes his theatre, his swectlieai't. an<l liis 
horse-racing with him wlien he goes to 
the sea-side for what he is [ileased to 
term his ••mid-summer repose." Through 
the pretty archipelago one goes to the 
little bay of Crinan, whence by the At- 
lantic canal travellers are transferred to 
Ardrishaig, — a three-mile ride in a canal 
boat, something larger than a wash-tuli, 
— an excursion which is decidedlv de- 



pressing when performed in the midst of 
a pouring rain. At Ardrishaig great 
steamers, cquipi>ed with Amei'ican lux- 
ury, with showy restaurants and hand- 
some parlors, fly downward pa.st Rothe- 
say, one of the most fashionable Scotch 
sea-sides, and thence Iiy the Clyde to 
Greenock. Northward from Oban leaves 
the great water-route of the Caledonian 
canal to Inverness through what is called 
the (ireat Glen of Scotland, which con- 
sists of a chain of lakes connected by 
sliallow streams. This n.iute is so 
straight that the steamer's course is only 
four miles longer thnn the air line taken 
liv the crow in his migrations. On Locli 
Ness is the celebrated fall of Fyers, 
sometimes described as the most n'lagnili- 
cent cataract in Great Britain, and tlie 
one which inspired Robert Burns with a 
poem. Inverness, the capital of the 
Highlands, is a well-built modern town, 
[irosiierous and canny. Near it is the 
battle-Held of Cullodeu, where the house 
of vStuart met its final ruin nearly a cen- 
tury and a half ago; and a lover of 
Shakespeare can make an excursion to 
Cawdor Castle, a noble specimen of the 
old baronial strongholds of the north. 

Landed proprietors in Scotland fully 
appreciate their privileges, and lease the 
temiKirary enjoyment of them for enor- 
mous sums. Millais, the painter, and 
other artistic celebrities lease fishing 
and hunting grounds for sums which 
would lie thought ruinously extravagant 
ill America. John Millais is very fond 
of [lainting in the Scotch Highlands, 
working energetically out of doors in 
rain or sunshine every day for months 
together, lovingl}' studying that nature 
which he knows so well how to repro- 
duce. The Queen, it is said, enjoys no 
portion of her year so much as that spent 
at Balmoral Castle, between Ballater and 
ISraemar. All throuuh tiiis region the 



fifiO 



EUP.OJ'E IN STORM AM) CALM. 



scenery i'* wildly iii(tinv^;(|uc. Prince 
Albert si)ei'ilily tell in l()\e with it, and 
there bouiilita. Iiandsunie property, which 
to-day comprises ten tlii)iis;Ln<l acres of 
cleariuii, with more than thirty tiioiisaiid 
of deer forest. In this sechided retreat 
the Queen receives only a few persons 
belonging to the Court and those semi- 
weekly niessengei's wlio bring from Lon- 
don the constantly accumulating mass of 
papers wliich tiie royal hands are obliged 
to sign. 

Stirling, with its Hol)le ancient castle, 
wliich in l.'>04 resisted the battering of 
all the besieging instruments brought 
from the Tower of London : with its 
monument to Bruce, its historic Town 
House, and the Old Ridge, where the 
Scots imtler Wallace defeated the Eng- 
lish ; Dunblane and IJannockbnrn. the 
ruins of Linlithgow Pahice, in the castle 
of which Queen Mary was born — are 
all worthy f>f attention. Nobly situated 
Perth, with its IJomaii memories, its 
jialace, in which the Scottish kings were 
crowned, and its quaint church of St. 
.John, where John Knox used to preach ; 
Dundee, on the banks of the Tay, with 
its great range of docks covering more 
than thirty acres; and Aberdeen, on the 
Dee, with its great lines of masts ex- 
tending for miles, and its old lirig of 
Balgownio, celebrated by Byron in Don 
Juan, — .all offer ample inducement to the 
student and the tourist. Both Scotland 
and Spain have an extra European flavor 
which is quite piquant. Both are rugged 
promontories extending into strange seas. 
Elach has a certain wildness which is 
fascinating, each a delightful history and 
crowded past, each a certain barrenness 
contrasted acutely with a perfection of 
color and of utility. To get out of mid- 
dle Europe into either of these countries is 
a side excursion — a run into the bowers 
— which is exhilarating and refreshing. 



A southward journey from Glasgow 
through the Fi-ith of Clyde and across 
the North channel brings tlie traveller 
ill a single night from (ilasgow to Belfast. 
Scotland and hihiiid have not much in 
(•(imiiioii, but (he sturdy Scotch-Irish 
character produced liy tlu' intercourse 
and crossing of the two racs in southern 
Scotland and northern Ireland is one of 
tlie lirightest composite elements (jf 
American nationality. If all Ireland 
conld be permeated witli llie hard com- 
mon-sense of Scotland, and if all Scot- 
land could receive a diffusion oi the gen- 
erosity of the Irish nature, both countries 
would be supremely benefited. In north- 
ern Ireland there is all the stir and ac- 
tivity of tile energetic Seoteii. 

Belfast, handsome and industrious, 
seated on its pretty slofies on River 
Logan, just before it flows into the lake, 
is a strange contrast to the shiftless 
towns of the south. The pushing Prot- 
estant merchants of Belfast are the 
envy of the lazier and less amliitious 
commercial men of Dublin and of the 
southward towns. Belfast grows with 
almost American quickness. It adds 
twenty or thirty thousand to its poimla- 
tion every ten years. " This great and 
flourishing city," says a local writer, 
"with all its houses and inhabitants, 
stands on the territory of one proprietor, 
the Marquis of Donegal, to whom the 
whole town belongs, and to whom the 
citizens pay tribute." Belfast was pre- 
sented by James I. to Sir Arthur Chi- 
chester as an iiisiguiticant village, and 
would, but for the long leases granted 
by the former proprietor, have given to 
the Manpiis (jf Donegal an income of 
more than £300, ()00 sterling annually. 
The rights and incomes of Scottish land- 
lords have been greatly reduced in recent 
times, but there are many such instances 
as that of Belfast. The great linen fae- 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



Cf)] 



tories contain a Imstling and somewhat 
bokl number of o|)eratives who, when 
there are burning questions agitated 
between Soutii and North, manifest 
broken iieads with the utmost freedom. 
Hundreds of thousands of spindles are 
here employed, even in times of great 
depression in trade. On the river there 
are docks and ship-building establish- 
ments, out of which the great Wiiitc 
Star fleet, one of the noblest that plonghs 
the ocean, has come. A few miles from 
Belfast is Clandelioye, the country-side 
of the Earl of Dutferin, who has had so 
full and prominent a political cart'cr in 
the lust twenty years, and who has now, 
in times of tronlile for the Indian Em- 
pire, been called to the high position of 
Viceroy of that great realm. Lord Duf- 
ferin is a consummate politician, and an 
able diplomat, who has been offered ex- 
cellent opportunities to study in Russia 
and in the East those burning questions 
which are to be fought out on the plains 
of Central Asia, and the settle.neut of 
which will decide the future of England 
and its Imperial domain. Northward 
from Belfast lead pleasant routes to 
Port Rush and the Giant's Causeway, to 
ancient and decaying Dunluee Castle, 
and to a hundred other historic points 
along the doubly indented coast. 

Erom time to time the English people 
appear to have forgotten that Ireland 
exists, or if they allude to it at all, it is 
in a tone of contemptuous indifference 
or of reproach, because the "Union" 
has not been attended with that harmony 
of sentiment political, religious, and 
social, which ought to be expected of 
fellow-subjects of one sovereign. But 
for the last few years all P^ngland has 
had its attention closely called to. and 
even centred upon, Ireland and Irish 
politics. The leading papers of London 
ever3' daj- have columns filled concerning 



the distress or the agitation prevalent in 
the " Green Isle ; " and the landlords of 
England may now and then have fancied 
they saw the handwriting on the wall, 
when tiiey heard of the ruin of Irish land- 
lords, because of the leagues of tlie 
peasantry, and their persistent ostracism, 
(which took its name from an ostracized 
person and became "boycotting"), and 
when the^- saw the energy of the Home 
Rule party fighting its way against dis- 
tress and dislike, but guaranteed a hear- 
ing by that love for fair play which is so 
striking a characteristic in the English 
mind. After the decline of the Fenian 
agitation England had resumed its in- 
difference with regard to Ireland, until 
the upspringing of the Laud Leaguers 
and the creation of "Centres" all over 
Ireland, and the determined uprising of 
the peasantry, in the wild regions where 
they had been content to live with as 
little comfort as the bony swine which 
trotted in and out of their cabins. When 
Mr. Gladstone came into office, after the 
resignation of Lord Beaconsfield, and 
the final retirement of the Conservative 
leader from politics, he found that he 
had inherited a formidable list of Irish 
difficulties, and that the sixty-five Home 
Rulers, who had come into the new 
House of Commons, were determined 
that these ditHcnlties should have ample 
discussion, and settlement if possible. 
Lord Beaconsfield, at the close of his 
political career, issned a political mani- 
festo, a letter to the Viceroy of Ireland, 
denouncing the Home Rulers in the 
strongest terms, and declaring the agra- 
rian agitation in that country a danger 
which, in its ultimate results, would be 
scarcely less disastrous than pestilence 
and famine. AVith the troubles caused 
by the alarm of famine and the outcry 
raised against the demands for no rent 
by the disciples of Mr. Parnell, Mr. 



(i52 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



Gladstone rosoliitoly grappled, and did 
the best that he or any one else eoiild 
have done in the presence of the exact- 
ing and icaliius opinion of England. To 
JMr. Parueirs strong cliaracter and un- 
consciousness was due the rapid advance 
which iic made as to a supreme [losition. 
Ills advice to the peasantry to hold the 
land and i)ay only sneh rent as they 
deemed fair, and the quickness with 
which this advice was adopted, led to 
the reopening of the Irish land question, 
which we need not follow through its 
varied phases here. 'Ihe attitude of 
Pailianient to Iieland has liocn one of 
conniiiseration, mingled with the deepest 
distrust. The nol)le gentlemen who have 
endeavored to regulate the affairs of the 
"Emerald Isle" seem to [ilaee them- 
selves in the position of admitting that 
the possession of landed property in Ire- 
land needed instant reform, but that it 
was iuexi>edient to put the reform in 
operation. The period of outrages began 
just so soon as the Land League had de- 
cided that tenants should pay no more 
than tlie '• prairie"' value, -25 percent, 
of the value of the letting of ordinary 
land, " when the liasis of rating was tixed 
according to the low standard of agri- 
cultural |)rices which ridcd a generation 
ago." 

The Land League meetings and the 
treuK'ndous agitation which they roused 
throughout the greater part of Ireland 
soon brought about the prosecution for 
seditious conspiracy against Mr. Par- 
nell and other home-rule members, as 
well as the ollicers of the Land League. 
Knghiiid rather hesitated liefore under- 
taking the statute pi-osceiitions, realizing 
tliat they would not stop the lawh'ssness 
in Ireland. Meantime the uprising in 
1880 reached its height, and a \critablc 
arniv was sent to crush d<jwn iiuhlic 
opinion and compel the Laud League to 



retire from its aggressive attitude ; but it 
was found that troops could not |)reveut 
an indignant population fr«>m intimidat- 
ing tliose who were unpopular in its 
midst. \Vith 1881, when this agrarian 
reign of terror seemed at its height, 
Europe was offered the spectacle of lib- 
eral Mr. Forster moving in the House of 
Commons the introiluction of coercion 
bills ; and then came a great struggle iu 
Parliament, first over these bills, and then 
afterward over Mr. Glad.stoue's long- 
promised Land Bill. ]\Ieautinie, although 
the coercion bills checked outrage iu the 
year of 1881, the Land League oigan- 
ization grew in strength. Tenants re- 
fused to jiay rent, landlords hesitated 
before the i)rocess of eviction which 
they had been so quick in old times to 
employ, and bj'-aud-by all Ii'cland re- 
belled against the Coercion Act with a 
force which fairly startU'd England out 
of its traditional inertia and indifference 
with regard to Irish affairs. 

The Land Act had become a law, and 
England thought Ireland should lie satis- 
fied with the modifications whicli it 
lironght iu regard to the control of 
landed pioperty. Many of the moderate 
Home Rulers had declared in favor of 
this act, and Mr. Parnell himself is said 
to have hesitated before deciding against 
it. JSIeauwhile the reflex opinion of the 
agitation in America, and the sudden 
blossoming of the dyn.-imite ixilicy, 
brought matters to a crisis. English 
opinion revolted iu presence of the ex- 
aggerated rumors concci'uing the atro- 
cious means which agitators in America 
and Ireland wei'e said to jirojiose for 
coercing Uritish opinion. .lu^t at this 
junction Mr Parnell appeared with his 
new doctrine, aimed directly at the Land 
Act. and intended to show that justice 
reipiired the reduction of the total rent 
of Ireland from £1 7.iM)(l,(l()U sterling 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



653 



annually to between £2,000,000 and 
£;3,000,000. This England considered 
an impossible standard of " fair rent," 
and English landlords holding land in 
Ireland and native land-owners were 
enraged. Mr. Gladstone called this iloc- 
trine of Parnell the '• Gospel of Public 
Plunder." Even the Catholic bishops 
were lukewarm in their appreciation 
of it. 

The Laud League was now bolder than 
ever; but presently Mr. ParncU, Mr. 
Sexton, Mr. Dillon, i\Ir. O'Kelly, and 
other prominent agitators, were arrested 
under the Coercion Act, and lodged in 
Pill as '• suspects." Riots in Dublin 
and Linieiick, caused by these arrests, 
were promptly put down, and for the 
time it seemed as if the implacable aver- 
sion of the Land League to all compro- 
mising measures on the part of England 
had resulted in the destruction of the 
League ilself. A proclamation was is- 
sued pulilicly suppressing the League, 
but at the same time the Land Coi.nnis- 
sion was opened, and ap|)lications for 
fixing fair rent began to come in ; but in 
the southern provinces the '• no rent " 
policy was adopted Viy thousands of 
tenants. What the agitation really did 
secure was the practical reduction of 
rents throughout Ireland. " In L'lster, 
Munster, and Connaught," says the 
" Times" of 18.S1 , '• rents were generally 
I'cduced from twenty to thirty per cent., 
and in many cases uineh more. Tenan- 
cies on old estates where rents had been 
paid twenty, thirty, or even fifty years 
were as freely handled as new tenancies 
on properties purchased in the Landed 
Estates Court. The landlords were 
struck with dismay, and vehement pro- 
tests were made on their behalf." It is 
odd to notice that when the Land Bill 
was first introduced in Parliament, the 



existing rents was possible, and every- 
body said that all the tenants would be 
glad to make friendly regulations with 
their landloi'ds, realizing that if their 
rents went into court they would be 
raised rather than diminished. The 
surprise of the Ministry when it discov- 
ered how times had changed was very 
great. The land agitation, which had 
been kept out of England and Ireland 
by the "silvery streak," as our British 
cousins call the Channel, nearly a cen- 
tury after it had been tiiinnphant in 
France, and for more than a generation 
after it had been completed in an aristo- 
cratic country like Hungary, had at last 
crossed the water and begun its work. 
The English say that it did not come by 
the Channel, but went round via Amei'ica 
and crossed the Atlantic. 

The year 188"2 opened with Mr. Par- 
nell still in jail, with the Protection Act 
administered with resolution by ISIr. 
Forster, and with the effects of the Land 
Act gradually becoming visilile. Then' 
was an invarialile reduction of rent 
every day from one-fifth to one-third of 
the previous rentals. Yet the exacting 
tenantry held out in large numbers for 
no rent, kept away from the courts, and 
announced their implacable hostility Iiy 
outrages which wrung cries of hori'or 
from lioth England and America. The 
now defunct Land League was working 
in the dark, but denied any connection 
with the perpetrators of the outrages. 

15v-and-b\- ]\Ir. Forster, who was tired 
of hearing himself called opprobrious 
names, resigned his position as Secretary 
for Ireland. The Protection Act was 
aliandoned, the Land- Leaguers were re- 
leased, and came back to the House of 
Connn(jns, where they liegan a tremen- 
dous onslaught on Mr Forsler, who Counil 
himself in the ticklish [lositiou of a 
private citizen defending his late course 



654 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



in a ]Hiblic jiosition. Mr. (iladstoue 
appuan'tl with the statement that Mr. 
Pariicll seemed willing to help tlie eanse 
of order, and England smiled at what it 
called the Kiluiaiuham treaty, or the 
understanding between the Ministry and 
the Land League party. Then eame the 
api>ointnient of Lord .S|)eueer as \'ieeroy 
of Ireland, with the generous and high- 
minded Lord Cavendish as Chief Secre- 
tary ; and, just as the ollicial circles were 
congratulating themselves upon the pa- 
cification of Irish feeling and the absence 
of any need of coercion, the assassination 
of Lord Frederick Cavendish, and the 
under Secretary, Mr. Burke, in Pho2nix 
Park, within full siglit of the vice-regal 
lodge, was announced. This extraordi- 
nary assassination made a deep impres- 
sion on English feeling, and the better 
classes in Ireland recoiled from any as- 
sociation with such detestable crime. 

There has rarely been a greater out- 
poui'ing of sympathy than was mani- 
fested wlien this second son of the Duke 
of Devonshire was lirought home to be 
buried at the nolile country-seat of 
Chatswortii, after his l)rief career as a 
lil.>eral oflicial desirous of conciliating 
the opinion of what is ironically called 
the " Sister Island." Now came, with 
swift feet, the " Crimes Bill," which all 
parlies, with the exception of ]\Ir. Par- 
nell and his disciples, supported. The 
police system in Ireland was reorganized : 
tlie application of the law was made 
more certain ; and although tlie peojile 
still worked in the dark, — a presiding 
justice narrowly escaped tlie attack of 
an assassin ; a juror in an agrarian 
case was stabbed and left f(ir ilcad. men 
were beaten and mutilated in their 
cabins at night; horses and cattle were 
killed, and houses an<l farms were 
burned. — still it was thought that the 
peasantry would be won over to the 



cause of order by the Land Act. But 
the Laud League declared that the Eng- 
lish Parliament had failed to conciliate 
Ireland, demanded an enlargement of 
the scope of the Land Act, the control 
of local taxation by Nationalists, and, 
in short, a local economy such as Ire- 
laud has never enjoyed. 

The land agitation wliicli had now 
gone on for thi'ee or four years in stead- 
ily increasing proportions in Ireland, 
began to have its influence in England. 
Lortl Salisbury issued a cry of warning 
in an article called "Disintegration," 
published in one of the reviews. He 
also showed his foreknowledge and fore- 
sight of what was coming by l)ringing 
forward his views on the " housing of 
the poor." At the same lime Mr. 
Chamberlain had come into Parliament 
by a vigorous attack on the land-owning 
classes, on whom he threw the duty of 
removing all the dwellings unlit for hab- 
itation, and replacing them by good, 
substantial houses. Next came the doc- 
trine of land nationalization, — the out- 
growth of the agitation of Jlr. Henry 
George, in America; and throughout 
1.S83 English land-owners were as busy 
with ([uestions directly affecting their 
own interests as they had been two 
years before with those affecting only 
the Irish laud-owner. The law weighed 
heavily uiion Ireland all thiough 1883. 
The formation of the National League 
at the close of 1882 was understood as 
the old Land League under thin dis- 
guise, and it was observed that the 
speakers at the meetings of the National 
League were all chiefs of the Separatist 
inuty. 

The consiiirators known as "The 
In\incibles," who had planned and 
carried out the assassination in Phwnix 
Park, the murder of the man who had 
informed against The Invincibles, and 



EUROPE I.V STORM AXD CAL.)f. 



fi55 



the conspiracies for tlie use of dynamite 
in London, Birmiugliam, and Glasgow, 
enraged tlie Euglisli, and tlie outcome of 
four busy years of parliamentary tinker- 
ing seemed to liave resulted only in the 
trium|>li of tlie peasant over the landlord, 
and an increased determination of the 



and Scotland. Innocent travellers 
coming from the continent -sverc sul)- 
jeeted to all the rigors which alarmed 
customs officials could invent. An Al- 
pine hat or an American accent was suf- 
ficient to subject the wanderer to careful 
watching by t'le police ; and sucji cxplo- 




A LAND-LKAGUK MASS-MEETING. 



Home Rule party to puisne its policy 
regardless of difficulties and opposition. 
The Separatists had received a severe 
shock at the time of the conspiracy dis- 
closures, but in 1884 recovered, ;uh1 
assailed the Executive in Dublin with all 
their force, and by means which were 
searcel}' creditable to their frankness or 
sincerity. The dynamite party l)ecame 
so aggressive in its bearing that its ex- 
ploits created a veritable panic in England 



sions as occurred at Victoria station, at 
St. .Tames square, Scotland yard, Lon- 
don Bridge, and, finally, at Westminster 
and the Tower of London, so shocked 
and enraged the public that it was un- 
willing to hear of anj' conciliatory meas- 
ures with regard to Ireland. But events 
in which the honor, and even the very ex- 
istence, of Imperial Britain are connected 
have conn)elled a certain modification of 
tone, even of sentiment, antl the Heir- 



GoG 



KrUdl-E IN STdliM AND CALM 



Ainiarent to tlie throne finds it not incon- 
sistdit with Jiis (li!j;nit_v to hold conrt in 
Dnlilin, and to niakc a long journey 
throuj^h the disaffected districts. 

The Land League agitation, and the 
meetings and gatherings of the [leasantrj' 
when this agitation was at its height. 



peared. hearing green banners and 
other national emblems, and leading 
professions of men, women, and chil- 
dren, who were to listen to the speakers 
assembled at a cottage just rebuilt by 
the Land-Leaguers after it had been 
torn down to render practicable the 



were some of the most curious features eviction of a tenant wdio refused to 
of the revolution gradually being accom- pay rent. This was one of the most 




plislied in the " Emerald Isle." I made 
an excm-sion into [reland shortly before 
the sn|ipression of the organization ami 
the arrest of its principal meJiibers. 
From old Galway for miles along the 
road whicli I took on my way to a 
Land-League mass-meeting, the fiekls 
iiad been lying fallow for many years ; 
hundreds of cabins were deserteil and 
unroofi'd, and dozens of others were 
fitter for the habitations of swine than 
for human beings. At every cross-road 
on this rainy Sunday horsemen ap- 



A FAMILIAR IRISH 
SCENE. 



daring things which liad been done in 
Ireland. The defiance of the law was 
patent, and I was not a, little sur|irised 
to find tin' parish priest at the head of 
the movement. Arriving on a bleak 
hill overlooking Lougii Corrib, where the 
meeting was to be held, I was met by 
tlie [iriest, who introduced me to a mnn- 
bcr of country squires, and to certain 
pale-faced agitators who had come up 
expressly from the Irish cities to help ou 
the movement. 

A few hundred yards from this cottage 



EUROPE /iV STOJ?M AND CALM. 



(;r>7 



which was the visible expression of the 
L;ui(l League's resistance to the hxw, 
three or four liiindred soldiers of the 
" Constabuhiry," as it is called in Ire- 
land, were drawn up in militar}' array, 
and a smart young officer, approaching 
tlie priest, touched iiis hat courteously 
and announced that he should detail two 
of his men to protect tlie government 
reporter. " Bring him on," said tlie 
priest, " but don't let the boys get at 
him. I would not answer for him tliis 
day." So presently tlie government 
stenographer, on whose report was to 
be based any prosecutions wliieii might 
ensue for treasonable language, was 
brought up under guard and seated at the 
luistings. Then arose a yell of execration 
from the crowd, which now numbered 
two or three thousand people, and which 
was soon to be reinforced by long- 
lines of peasantry whom we could see 
miles away, marching around the end of 
the lake. At the head of one of these 
processions fluttered an American flag, 
borne by a stalwart farmer. Some of 
the peasants carried wooden swords and 
pikes, artistically stained with red, sui)- 
posed to imitate the Saxon gore which was 
some day to lie spilled. Numbers of tiie 
patriots had imbibed spirituous fluids to 
counteract llie omnipresent moisture ; and 
now and then an ardent defender of the 
Irish cause questioned my presence and 
my identity, with tlie addition of epithets 
not altogether agreeable. One inflamma- 
ble gentleman, who had recently returned 
from the United States, informed me, 
while I was on the hustings some 
twenty feet from the ground, tliat 
I might be a Saxon reporter, and that if 
it were found to be so he would liave nie 
luinded down. The parish priest, how- 
ever, took this gentleman to task for 
having begun his festivities too early in 
the day, and threatened hiiu with the 



waters of Lough C'orrib if he was rude 
to the stranger. 

The scene was wild ; the flerce faces 
of the peasantry, — faces thin with 
want, and flushed with an angry ple.isure 
as they heard the government assailed, 
— as they heard stories of tyranny, and 
incentives to rebellion catalogued and 
recited, were wilder still. This was the 
beginning of revolution likely to go far, 
and do much damage, if not checked by 
artful legislation. Even the gentlemanly 
and courteous priest forgot his mildness 
when he addressed the people. 

The greatest demands of Mr. Parnell 
and his followers were thought mild and 
insuflicient by this throng of laborers 
who had never until recent years dreamed 
that they could rebel against the land- 
lord. Now this thought was uppermost 
in their minds : Mow can we dispense 
with the landlord altogether? How can 
we become ourselves possessors of the 
soil? I thought that in the frecpieiit 
ajipeals of the priest to the people to 
remain within the letter of the law there 
was a mild satiric flavor. His eye 
twinkled when he had finished his ad- 
dress ; and the cries and curses which 
rose from his hearers when the name of 
any unpoiiular landed |iroprietor or 
official was mentioned appeared to give 
the good man positive pleasure. 

As I drove home on the jaunting-car 
that night, under the flitting moonlight, 
and over the roads wet and soggy with 
the protracted rain, I came from time 
to time upon sentinels posted at cross- 
roads, and now and then dark figures 
rose up cautiously from behind the walls 
or hedges, and disappeared, as if satis- 
fied that the passer-by was a neutral, 
and was not to lie molested. I confess 
that had I been a land-owner of the 
neighborhood I should not have ridden 
liome alone and unarmed that night. 



658 EUROPE IN STORM AMJ CALM. 



CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE. 

niiblin aii.l its Cliicf Features. — Tlie Irish Climate. — Tiiiiity Colle^ie. — Tlie Environs of tlip Iri'^li 
Capital. — The Great Western Gateways, — tiuceustovvii and Liverpool. 

THE Irisli are justly proiul of tlu'ir the c'lini;ite is trviiiii, varialjlc, ami sonic- 
capital, which is in no wise inferior what exhausting. 
in tlie beauty of its streets and the ele- The loiijj; streets are shromled in 
gance of its shops to London or otlier fog, and the barren slums, with their 
large towns in England. There are a j)ictnres(|Uc .-ind motley population of 
few picturesque bits in the city ]ir(iper inlirm old men and women (and where 
on tlie l)anks of the River Liffey, wliicli are there such old men and old women 
divides the town into two nearly ecpial as in Ireland?) are pitiable enough. The 
parts, — eastward into the noble bav on beggars are numerous and aggressive, 
one side, on wiiich is the famous hill of They bless and curse with ('(pial volubil- 
Ilowtli ; and on the other, Killiney hill. ity. The gift of sixpence is sullicient to 
Around the great Custom-House always di'aw down l)lessings for a twelvemonth 
cluster tlocks of vessels, and one would u|i(iii the giver's head. The soldirr, i'e(l- 
scarcely fancy, while looking at the com- jacketed, smartly groomed and attired, is 
mercial head-rpiarters of Ireland, that the seen on every corner. England keeps a 
country is cursed with poverty, and that formidable garrison, nearly thirty thou- 
its niainifactures as well as its agriculture sand strong, in Ireland, and will not 
are in an almost prostrate condition. w^ithdraw it. e\en in the face of most 
.Time is tlie time to visit Dublin — .Tune, pressing needs outside, until the with- 
with its bright sunshine, interspersed drawal is im|ierative. The Castle, as it 
with sudden sliowers (it rains in Ireland is called, where the lord-lieutenant or 
every day), and with its splendor of the viceroy, as In' is somewhat bombas- 
verdure and l)|ossom on the neighboring tically tlenoniinated, holds his court and 
mountains. In the midsummer season has his otHcial residence, is not quite so 
it is bi-oad daylight until almost ten imposing as the Castle of Edinburgh, but 
o'clock in this far northward city, and is said to have been in former times a 
daylight comes again afb'i' but three, or, noteworthy structure, 
at most, three and one-half, hours of One chief room is the vice-regal 
darkness. Visiting Dublin some years chapel, where the lord lieutenant :ind 
ago, on the occtisiou of an international his family attend divine service. This 
festival, and being nightly called to cha|)cl has a curious feature in the 
attend S(jme banquet or prolonged social shape of sculptured heads on the win- 
festivity, I had, in a period of three <lows and doors, like those around tlie 
weeks, no night at all, for when I went I'lace \'endonie in Paris. The vit'e- 
fo my engagement it was still light regal apartments contain an ornamental 
enough to read a newspaper in the hall, with a tin-one richly embroidered 
sti'cets. and when f went home to rest it with gold, where, on the rare occasions 
had lou'j; been bi'JLiht davlinht. In winter wIkmi mvaltv Condescends to visit the 



ECROrE I.V STORM AXD CALM. 



659 



sister island, levees and ernslies are 
held. 1 he liall-rooni, known as St. 
Patrick's Chapel, the Council Chamber, 
and the niagniticently furnished drawing- 
room, are the only ver3- interesting 
things. There are two kinds of society 
in Diililin, which for the stranger may 
he well cncjngh classified as the loyal 
and the national. Around the hjrd 
lieutenant is a formidable gronixif the 
resident l"r(.)testant English and Protes- 
tant Irish, (^f ihe more impoitant land- 
owne'.s of lioth nationalities, the ollicial 
world, the magistrates, and i)lacemen of 
all kinds. Tlie Nationalists are not so 
strong, but jircifess to have a more brill- 
iant social organization. Royalty, how- 
ever, draws them strangely near together, 
as it has done in the recent visit of the 
Prince of Wales. The lower classes, 
turbulent and irreconcilable, watch with 
jealous eye the conduct of their city otli- 
cials, and if any one from the Lord 
Mayor of Dublin down dares to curry 
favor witli English loj'alty or Englisli 
oiiinion he is signalled for vexations 
innumerable. 

Of the exterior features of Dublin 
none is more striking than Trinity Col- 
lege, which stands in College Green, 
directly opposite the old Bank of Ireland. 
This college, which was foimded under 
a bull ol)tained from Pope Jolni XXII., 
was closed in the time of Henry VIII., 
but w;>6 opened again in tlie reign of 
Elizabeth, who made it a cori)oration in 
the name of the " College of the Holy 
and Indissoluble Trinity." AVithin and 
without it is rich with works of art of 
highly respectable character. Portraits 
of Dean Swift, Bislwp Berkeley, Arch- 
bishop King. Lord Oriel, Professor P>ald- 
win, Grattan, and Frederick, Prince of 
Wales, ornament the halls. In front of 
Ihe college are statues of Oliver Gold- 
smith and of AV'illiam III. The dinner 



in the grand hall of the Refectory, witli 
the ollicials of the college in their robes, 
and with the singularly pleasing arrange- 
ment of toasts and musical responses, 
is one of the most uovel features of 
European social life. The u|]roarious 
demonstrations of the students of Trinity 
occasionally disturb the decorum of 
Duliliu, the Celtic student ai>parently 
considering it iiis ])rivilege in Ireland, as 
in France, to make himself disagreeable 
to the government and to his neighliors 
upon the most trivial iirovocation. 

The Bank of Ireland is the Old Par- 
liament House, in which. I sujiiiose, Mr. 
Parnell and his followers would like to 
install their Home Rule Parliaujent by- 
and-by. The old House of Conanons is 
now the cash office of the liank, and the 
House of Lords is still left as it was in 
the times when Ireland had a Parlia- 
ment, save that the site of the thidue is 
occupied by a statue of Gleorge III. 
The dilapidated tapestries on the wall 
represent King William crossing the 
ISoyne, and the Siege of Derry. Under 
the pavement of the cathedral of St. 
Patrick lie the mortal remains of 
Dean Swift and Esther Johnson, who 
w-as the " Stella" of his poetry. Swift 
was once dean of this cathedral, which 
was restored about twenty-fi\e years 
ago l)y .a celebrated Duliliu brewer, 
who expended more than £100,000 
upon it. The Nelson Monument, raised 
by the Irish admirers of the hero of 
Trafalgar, and the AVellington Testimo- 
nial, erected by Wellington's town.smen, 
are objects of interest. The Military 
Hospital, the Cailisle liridge. the Na- 
tional Gallery of Ireland, and tlie Royal 
Hibirnian Academy, are the chief public 
buildings. 

The admirer of the great O'Counell 
may renew his souvenirs of that tre- 
mendous orator by a visit to ConciliatioQ 



660 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



Hall, where O'Connell achieved some of 
his greatest truiniphs. The gilded liurp 
and the shfiuiroek of Ireland aie still 
preserved on the ceiling of this hall, hut 
a corn-iiiercliant now oeeupies the iirem- 
ises. In (ilasnevin Cemetery is the t'lnili 
of O'Connell, a granite ronnd tower one 
luindred and sixty feet high ; and there, 
too, reposes the illnstrions Curran. On 
Steiihens Green, a pretty sqnaro witii 
dusters of trees and shrubs, surrounded 
on all sides with the handsomest man- 
sions in the town, is the Royal College 
of Surgeons, witli a museum, a statue 
of George II., and an industrial 
nuiseura of very creditable character. 
Stephens Green is the scene of many 
of the Nationalists' manifestations, but 
it is in riiffiuix Park that the population 
of Dublin loves best to manifest. This 
park, covering an area of more than 
seventeen thousand acres, is very beau- 
fnl, and is often a scene of grand mili- 
tary reviews when England desires to 
show her strength to her Irish neigh- 
l)ors. The immediate vicinity of Dublin 
is of rare and ex((uisitc beautj. Kings- 
town harl)or — the port of Dublin — is 
pretty ; and the fashional.)le resort of Dal- 
ke}', where the old Dublin merchants of 
the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries 
preferred having their goods landed rather 
than allow their ships to venture into the 
bay and attemi)t the passage of the 
Liffey, is a pretty suburb. Powers- 
court, one of the few Irish estates 
whose landlord was always popular with 
his tenants, is an admirable specimen of 
an Irish country residence. The great 
baronial mansion, in the midst of delight- 
ful scenery, contains a vast parlor, where 
George IV. was entertained when he vis- 
ited Ireland in 1821 ; and the Glen, 
tlirough which the Dargle flows, is one 
of the most romantic iu Ireland. The 
charms of the Wicklow mountains, of 



the Headland (jf Bray, the DeviTs Glen, 
tlie Seven Churches, and the Vale of 
jVvoca have so often lieen celebrated in 
both prose and verse that there is little 
new to say aliout them here. The stran- 
ger who al)ides for some time within the 
gates of Dublin will l>e sure to hear a 
fair Irish maiden singing, with the deli- 
cate lisp and the clearness of enunciation 
which characterize the English s|ioken 
in the Irish cni)ital, Moore's pretty liallad 
aliout the Avcjca, which begins thus : — 

'■ There is iKjt in tliL' wide worlil a valluy so 

SWC't't 

As the vale in wliose bosom the bright waters 

meet. 
Oil ! tlie last rays of feeling and life must 

depart 
Ere tlie bloom of that valley shall fade from 

my lieart." 

At all concerts and nuisical festivals 
given at Dublin the national poetry is 
brought out iu strong relief, and always 
awakens a storm of enthusiasm. The 
south of Ireland is a pretty country, 
rich in legend and romance, and in 
varied scenery, which, while it never 
apjiroaches the grand and liold, is emi- 
nently satisfactory and sometimes be- 
witching. The old seat of AVaterford, 
and the town with its church aliout 
which Father Prout wrote, — 

"The bells of Shandon, 
That sound so grand on 
The iileasant waters of the River Lee; " — 

the cove of Cork, or Queenstown, with 
its majestic harbor, — ample enough to 
contain all the navies of the world. 
Blarney, Youghal and the Black "Water, 
Killarnev and the lakes, tlie Gap of Dun- 
loe and the lilack Valley, L<ich Lean, In- 
uisfallen, Muckross Abliey and the Peaks, 
Bandon, Glengariff, and Bantrj', — all 
these embrace a curious mixture of wild- 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



6G1 






I 

ta 



2! 

O 






SI 

T3 
O 
O 




002 EVROrE IN STOUM A.VD CM.M. 

ncss ;uicl nf "'entle licnnty. 'J'lic iiix'ut Lonili.m, — ;\iiil tlinl it 1)rii]iis in nearly 
dirt's, llic lul'ty blue ri;iii,s, and tlic liigli- two inillioii :iiiil a hall' ut' rottoil hales 
lands, wliicli break into the vast expause ti'oni Anieiiea and I'loin India, every year 
of the Athmtic, ni-e lieautifiil nnder the t<.> lie worked \\\) in the great factories 
snuuiier sun, bat in the mists and winds in twenty cities uot far away. The 
of winter arc forbiddinif and desolate, stately Nt. (ieorge's Hall, the iialatial 
(^ueenstown is cine of the yreat gate- business structures on Water street, the 
ways out of Eurojie to America, and the statues ol' the I'rince C'onsoit and (^ueen 
harbor is always alive with the enormous Victoria, the Wellington Jlonument, the 
steamers laawliiig across tlie greenisli- Foreign Exchange, the ]\Iaus<ilenin of 
blue waves, witli the spriglitly tugs and Iluskisson, the huge docks of Lairds, 
tenders trans[)orting [lassengers to and covering ilve hundred acies on the 
from the ocean arks, and with men-of- liirkenliead side of tlie Jlersey, — are 
war, which dio}) in casually, as if to say the chief features of Liverpool, 
to Ireland, " lie tranquil." The city has its slums, into which one 
There is c<instant commercial inter- is oliliged to str.ny with care if he wishes 
course lietween Dulilin and Liverpool, — to come out alive. There is within five 
the great western gateway of Great minutes' walk of the principal c<im- 
Britaiu, — Liverpo<il whicli has grown mercial avenues a labyrinth of streets 
rich and pros|jerons out of the American and alley-ways containing more misery 
trade, and, forthatmatter, out of the trade and filth and abject wretchedness than 
of every country under the sun. Here the can be found in any other European 
finest docks in the world wouki be vastly cily. The Liverpool Irisii are justly de- 
imposing if one could liave an atmosphere nominated the most degraded people in 
for the space of a single day in which the kingdom, and around them and their 
to visit them. Liverpool was a little scarcely less wretched and vicious 
hamlet three hundred years ago; to-day English fellows there is a fringe of 
its po|iulatiou is a little more than half c<ismopolitan vice and want, an inter- 
a million, and it is said there are always national tangle of ignorance and [loverty, 
at least thiitv thousand s:ulors prome- a population which scarcely seems to 
nading its vast quays. It is a proud city, have souls, and which veritably si ems 
proud of its wealih, proud even of its lieyond the reach of redemption. One- 
climate, which it liercely defends as in third of the trade of Liverpool is w itli 
nowise objectionable ; proud of its great America. The Liverpool merchant is 
Kiver Mersey, with its stone banks, of the a cultivated man, with no piejudices ; 
fleets of ships and steamers which come the breadth of the broad seas in his 
in and go out in hundreds daily: proud character; he is generous, quick, and 
of the fact that it has at least two-thirds energetic, and enjoys his fortune as in- 
of the whole shipping of Great Britain telliuently and mode-tly as any landed 
and one-tenth of her foreign trade, — proprietor. 
half as much tra<le as the great iiort of 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



6()3 



CHAP PER SKVEXTY-S [X. 

Lord Beacon'ifieM. — Mr. Gladstoiio. — Two C:irccis Entirely Different in Character, Purpose, anil Result. 
— Personal Description of the two Great Premiers. — Imperial Policy. — Tlie Eastern Question in 
187'!). — Mr. Gladstone's Attilutie. — Tlie Slavs of the South. — Scrvia, Iler/.e^oviiia, l',<tsnia, 
and Montcncyro. 



I am overwhelinctl," were the words of 
tlie dying' Ijeafonsfiekl, as he closed 
his long and tigitated cai-eer, twelve 
months after he had surrendered his 
premiership, in the tranquil retreat of 
HiiohL'iiden ; and it then seemed as if in 
his words there was all the sadness of a 
prophetic confession. The Imperial policy 
wliich he had inaugurated with such 
dazzling audacity, and conducted witli 
such dexterous, altlioitgii somewhat sitiis- 
ter, skill, had received so many severe 
checks, had brought upon tlie realm of 
Britain so many disasters, thtit the Kng- 
lisli people were right in qiiestii)iiing 
whether it were wise that it should he 
prosecuted to its logical conclusions. 

An Eiiglisli premier takes liis defeat as 
he takes his accession to office, with pro- 
found philosopliy ; for he knows that the 
people quickly return upon any judgment 
which they have found erroneous, or which 
they think erroneous, and tiiat the lease 
of power is not very permtinent. Just 
as in the autumn of IS".'! the people 
showed that they were becoming nervous 
with regard to the reforming zeal of 
the ministry, and that tliey wished to 
give it a clieck, so, in 1880, after Mr. 
Gladstone's tremendous Midlotliian ctim- 
paign, the people began to waver in 
their devotion to the brilliant policy 
which had seduced them by its promise 
of glory and of fortune. ]\Ir. Gladstone 
was a severe and an uncompromising 
critic of Lord Beacousfleld's administra- 



tion. He said that the premier's policy 
of •• Etnpire and Liberty " h;id simply 
meant denying to others the riglits that 
England claimed for lieisclf. He [lointcd 
to the disasters in Afghauisttiii ; to thi' 
fact that Lidia " hail not advanced, litit 
was thrown back in government, sub- 
jected to heavy and unjust chaiges, stili- 
jected to wiiat might also be termed, in 
comparison with the governiiient of foi- 
mer years, a singular oppression ; at home 
the law broken, and the rights of Parlia- 
ment invaded." It was in vain tiiat 
Reaconsfield, who had so lately been the 
adored of the London populace, the dar- 
ling of the eyes of the Conservative 
dowagers, and the hero tis much in Wliire- 
chapel as in Belgravia tiiid Mayfair. — 
in both of which widely separated sections 
he was considered as a new champion of 
England, who was to revive the niicieiit 
prestige of the island kingdom, ami 
reduce to a sense of their relative un- 
im|)ortance the ambitious powers of the 
North, as he was popularly supposed by 
his English admirers to have done at tiio 
Berlin Congress, — ^ it was in vain that he 
struck back against his resolute adver- 
sary, that he referred to the attempts made 
to sever the constitutional tie between 
England and Ireland, ;ind issued liis fa- 
mous proclamation calling on "all men 
of light and leading" to resist this de- 
structive doctrine. It was in vain that 
he accused the Liberal party of attem|)t- 
ing, and failing, to enfeeble the English 



GG4 



EUROPE IN STORM AXU CALM. 



colonies by their |)oliey of dee(.)iiii)ositioii : 
in vain tliat he eried out that lie had 
loug i)reviously recognized iu the dis- 
integration of tlie United Kingdom a 
mode which would not ouly accomplish 
l)ut i)reci[)itate that purpose ; iu vain that 
he persisted in his statement that peace 
rested on the presence, not to say the 
ascendency nf England in the councils of 
Euro|ie. The impression grew that the 
Conservative Ministry, which had been 
iu power from IfSTl, had not only caused 
a veritable and lamentable iiiterm/inun 
in the great progress of reform at home, 
but had weakened the Empire by need- 
less wars aI)road, and that its clandes- 
tine ac(iuisition of the Island of Cyjirus 
had brought upon it the gravest criti- 
cisms. Although the proudest luoment 
of Beaconsfield's life was the moment of 
his entrance into the House of Lords, on 
his return from the IJerlin Congress, still 
not even the fallen Premier liimself could 
conscientiously assert that he had by his 
support of this treaty gained anything 
for his famous Imperial policy. He 
could not have believed thnt the barrier 
of the iJalUans could permanently sepa- 
rate the two halvi's nftlie new Bulgarian 
nation ; that they enulil remain •• similar 
iu r.aee, in religinu, in memories, the 
one free, the other still enslaved;' nor 
that Russia would be permanently 
checked in her advance on Constanti- 
nojjle by tiie measures which a few 
diplomats seated round a table covered 
with green clotli ciiosc to imagine as 
ol)stacles to that jirogress from north ti.» 
south which all history tells us is neces- 
sary and vital, and which is as resistless 
as an inundation. 

Mr. (iladstoue had always pointed out 
that the great barrier to a Russian ad- 
vance on Constantiuoiile was the erea- 

' O'Couiiov's Life of Loi'il Beaconsfiekl. 



tion of independent States. But tiie 
policy of intrigue and of petty vexations, 
the policy of attempting to check the 
Russian bear by scattering bits of orange- 
peel in his path, had been adopted in- 
stead of the bold and straightforward 
plan which England might have adopted ; 
and were Lord Beaeonsfleld alive to-day 
to see the natural outcome of hi.s policy, 
so far as it was carried forward, he 
might again say, as he said with his 
latest breath, "I am overwhelmed." 

Mr. Benjamin Disraeli, who rose to 
lie Lord Beacouslield, and Mr. William 
Ewart Gladstone, who might loug ago 
ha\'e Ijcen seated in the House of Lords 
if he would luive listened to pro[)osals 
for his elevation, have so long Iieen 
familiar and imposing figures on the 
stage of English politics, and in inter- 
uatii)iial pdlilies generally, that little 
nevv can lie said of them here. Both 
these distinguished men had attained iu 
London and in Euro[)e that eminence 
which attaches to a long continuance of 
power, to fre(iuent returns to its exer- 
cise, and to iiidisputalile authority and 
skill in tlie management of men. Each 
represented a special and peculiar school 
of Englisii thought ; yet each has always 
had throughout his career a niai-ked in- 
dividuality which seemed to distinguish 
him from the mass of Englishmen. Lord 
Beaeonsfleld was perhaps — and [lartieu- 
larly from ls7t to his downfall — more 
strictly popular than Mr. Gladstone. It 
is certain, however, that he stood upon 
a lower level, and that nearly every one 
who professed for him sueii passionate 
admiration A-iior that he stood upon a 
lower level ; but there was a glamour 
about liiin and all his works, an accent 
of sincerity iu his siieeches, even when 
they supported the shiftiest of iiretexts 
or the most ftdlacious of positions, which 
hiUi'd to rest any outcropping suspi- 



ErROl'E LV STOR.V AXn f'ALM. 



(Ido 



cions. Beaconsfield bad worked liimsclf 
l\\^ from a very humble position to that 
which lie had coveted in his youth, and 
wliich he had boldly asserted he would 
get. lie had conquered prejudice, had 
almost conquered fate. He had that 
profound belief in himself which cari'ies 
men over the most ditHcult obstacles, and 
finally deludes them into the conviction 
that they are all-i)owerful before it al- 
lows them to be tripped up and to be 
lieaten on the scene of action. 

Mr. Gladstone had not been obliged 
to toil up tVoni the lowest place, but had 
stepi)ed with easy grace at an early age 
into the career for which he had such 
consummate litness. He had inherited 
a handsome fortune, which allowed him 
to devote his entire energies to the 
public service ; had a wonderful talent 
for finance, a thorough business apti- 
tude, an abiding classical education, 
a fervent religious spirit, and a sen- 
sitive conscience, — too sensitive per- 
haps for modern English politics, with 
its expedients, its trickeries, its anxi- 
eties, and its dangers. One of his 
biographers has said of him that " he 
unites cotton with culture, Manchester 
with Oxford, the deep classical joy over 
the Italian resurrection and Greek inde- 
pendence with the deep English interest 
in the amount of duty on Zante raisins 
and Italian rags." He was already a 
prominent politician when the firstReform 
Bill was brought forward, in 1832, and 
fifty years afterward his voice was heard 
more powerfully than that of any other 
in the English Parliament in advocating 
the completion of the reform_ which, 
while its progress has been so slow, 
has been so very thorough. Lord Bea- 
consfield, in his youth, when he wished to 
make his maiden speech in the House 
of Commons, had been thoroughly 
laughed at, but had turned upon his 



tormentors, and in terrible tones iiad 
informed them that the lime would come 
when they would hear him. Mr. Glad- 
stone had made his Parliamentar}- cUhiit 
without melodramatic effect, at once 
commanding the respect and attention 
of all his fellow-memlx'rs. His very 
first speeches in Parliament were in con- 
nection with the lilieration of slaves, 




LORD UEAfONSKIELD 
Fniiii PhotLigraph by London Stereoscopic Co. 

and forty years afterward he was vigor- 
ons and earnest as when a, youth in 
demanding the freedom from ojipressiou 
of the Christians in the East. Mr. 
Disraeli seems to have considereil litera- 
ture as one of the intellectual dissipa- 
tions of his youth. In it he exhaled 
the fierj- enthusiasms of his soul, em- 
bodied in correct and facile prose the 
dreams of the career which was before 
him, foreshadowed many of his attempts 
and aims, betrayed many of the weak- 
nesses and follies of his nature, and 



6(i(; 



Einoi'i: IX i<T(ii;M a\/> <\\i,m. 



iiidicatrd ns clcaily as could have been 
indicated liv an cthnulogist all the in'ej- 
iidiees, fancies and hatreds enlailed 
upon liini liy his race. In his licioks 
may he found the Semitic c(inteinpt for 
Christian ei\ilization, the Jewish eat];er- 
ness to control and lead the Christian ; 
and, in all matters of Eastern i)olicy, the 
Jewish nnwillinoiiess to aid the Chris- 
tian to resume the i)la<-e a<-tually his, 
but usurped liy the barl.iarian. 

Jlr. Gladstone, while he had not had 
so glittering a liteiary distinction as his 
great antagonist in his youth, has made 
literature in its higher form the delight 
of liis middle life and his declining 
years. His mildest literary recreation is 
the enthusiastic study of Homer and the 
Homeric age. He is one of tlie few 
Englislunen who thoroughly comi)relien<l 
the (ireek mind, ancient and modern. 
He has never allowed his position as Eng- 
lish statesman to interfere with the caie- 
ful, non-prejudiced study of continental 
politics from stand-points not entirely 
English. Kefornier and agitator by 
instinct, he is modei'ate in language, 
and his consideration for his opponents 
is proverbial. His patience in the ]ires- 
ence of gi'i'ut dilliculties is unliniileil ; 
his disrcg.-ird of pulilic clamor when he 
thinks it ill-founded may be carrieil 
very far; he is not the man t(j resign in 
a passion, nor until he feels that the 
whol<' majorifv of his [larty, to the last 
man, has given up the situation. He is 
content with the progress of each day; 
he iloes not threati'U or [irophesy, — In' 
works ; lie is ready for crises, because 
lie always foiesees them ; he knows the 
value of a penny, and never fails to in- 
sist upon it : but he d(jes not hesitate 
to ask enoi'nions sums when the honor 
and dignity of England are threatened. 
If he thinks ti war unjust, even though 
he niay have been i)ushed by his own 



[jarty into it, he will open his moutli and 
speak the truth. No sneer of foii'ign 
caliinets, or tlu'cat of enemies, or danger 
of molis at home, will prevent him from 
disserting the Soudan, and from saying 
the full truth about South Africa. If 
he felt that England, in order to main- 
tain her position as a first-class power, 
were fated to carry out, at all risks and 
hazards, an Imperial policy, which would 
also be a policy of greed and of phnider, 
and interference with other people's 
rights, he would not sanction that policy 
for any consideration whatsoever. 

Loid Beacou.sfield might have lieen 
laid in Westminster Abliey had it not 
been for the strict instructions in his 
will that he was to be liuried in Ilughen- 
ilcn, liesi<le the wife whom he so tenderly 
loved, and who had done so much for 
the upbuilding of his career. lie some- 
times said, with profound emotion, that 
to his wife he owed everything. Doubt- 
less there well' mouK'nts in his existence 
when he would have given up the 
stinggle, and relapsed into deep indif- 
lercnce. had it not been for her unfailing 
sui)port and counsel. Mr. Gladstone 
was the first to propose that the deceased 
Pri'niier should htive the honors of a 
public funeral in Westminster Abbe}'; 
but. it was not to be. The Great Com- 
moner, the (Irand ( »ld iNIan, as he is 
lovingly c.allccl bv his admirers and 
scornfully sfiokcn of by his enemies, 
the people's William, the ardent supfjorter 
of Lilieralisni in aristoci'atic and con- 
servative England, will undoubtedly be 
laid beneath the stones of the ancient 
Abbey, to rest in the noble company 
near whose shrines he has spent so many 
long j'ears of activity in the Parliament 
House. Westminster, the epitome and 
crowning gloi-\- of England, nmst act 
now and then as an ins|iiration to public 
iiicn as tlicy pass to and fro beneath its 



EUROrE IN STORM AND CALM. 



667 




GLADSTONE. 
From photographs of Elliott & Fry, London. 



sh.adows ; fnr to lie placed there is higher 
honor tlian to lie put in the House of 
Lords dining lifetime ; and for that 
matter the Abbey is likely to be the chief 
of London's monuments many centuries 
after the House of Lords has been bnt a 
tradition. The pavement which shrouds 
Chatham. Pitt, Fox, Castlcreagh, 



Canning, Grattan, and Wilberforce is 
an appropriate resting-place for Ghid- 
stone. 

It is related of John Bright that, 
being in the lobby of Parliament one 
day, he was approached by a lady of 
his acquaintance, who had brought her 
two little boys to see the political celeb- 



008 



EC ROPE IN STORM AXI> CALM. 



rities, and who remarked that (Uad- 
stouo was not present, and that she did 
not regret it as she had but small ad- 
miration for him, repeating numerous 
reasons as to why she did not lilce his 
public record. " Madam," said the 
great orator, assuming his most imi)os- 
ing mien, "when you have an oppor- 
tunity to sec Mr. Gladstone here, bring 
your two boys with you, and when 
you have been told which is j\Ir. (J lad- 
stone, point him out to these children, 
and say to them, ' There is the greatest 
Englishman of all England,' and you 
will say the truth." 

r.iith Beaconsfield and Gladstone have 
always been fond of promenades in Lon- 
don town, so that they are well known 
to the citizens. Gladstone is the most 
imceremonious of mortals, and when he 
lived in Ilarley street, some years ago, 
used to walk, in all weathers, down ti> 
railiament House, wrapped up in his 
big, liigh, rough overcoat, and with his 
thick leather leggings, looking something 
like a country s(iuire who had just arrived 
at Euston station. Yet, despite the aHec- 
tatiiin of rusticity, the love for felling 
trees, or long walks and rides in the 
country, and his simiilieity of dress and 
demeanor, he knows how, when it is 
proper, to maintain the utmost elegance 
and ilignitv of manner. In these latter 
years of his premiership, when he comes 
to the evening of a great speech, there 
are evidences of careful attention to his 
dress, lie !i:is a fresh coat, and a llower 
in the lintt(in-h()le, or is in irreproachable 
evening costume. Seen anywhere, and 
undi'r any cii-cumstauces, he would strike 
tlie observer as a remarkable man. I 
lilic l)est to think of him as I saw him 
one evening at the play, on the first 
re])resentatiou of Tennyson's "Cup," 
when a brilliant audience had gathered 
in the Lvcenni theatre to do honor both 



t<i the poet- laureate and to the favorite 
actor. Gladstone's lustrous eyes, as 
piercing and magnetic as they were when 
he was thirty, were uinisuall^' brilliant (jn 
tliat occasion ; and, as he sat in his com- 
fortable bo.x, surrounded by his family, 
he j)resented the finished type of a cidti- 
vated, accom[ilishetl, and successful I-Cng- 
lish gentleman, than which no aristo- 
cratic family could furnish a thicr. He 
was the sublimated man of the people, 
the best outcome of the sturdy strength 
of England. 

All politicians have something of tlie 
comedian in their composition. They 
know how to make their entrees and their 
soHies with skill ; and Lord Beaconsfield 
excelled in this theatrical quality'. His 
curl became historic. A pet phrase, 
delivered with a peculiar gesture, made 
its impression and went into history. A 
consunnnate dandy in his youth, he had 
something of dandyism in his old age. 
A frock-coat may have its eloquence as 
much as a spoken word. The indiscreet 
gaudiness of the Hebrew was left aside 
after he reached maturer years, to reap- 
pear onl3' now and then in one of his 
speeches, written under strong excite- 
ment. In 1.S78 Mr. Lacey, the able 
author of the new " Diary of Two Par- 
liaments," wrote thus about Lord Bea- 
conslield : — 

Stri\ni;irs iiiuy now ocoasionally meot in tlie 
lu'iijlibiirliodtl of Parliainent street a notable 
ti;;in'e niakins? its way tlirouah tlie throng. 
Tliey note liow frail ami weary tlie body 
seems, how bent tlie shoiilder.s, how sunken 
the clieeks, bow leaden-luied the lineaments; 
liMt they also note tlic dauntless spirit which 
still aft'eots a jaunty carriage, and makes be- 
lieve tliat progress is slowly made only because 
tliere is no hurry. They further observe with 
ailiniratioii the careful newness of the acces- 
sories of tlie figure, — the shapely coat of the 
lightest material, the negligent but elegant 
neekeloth, the pearl-gray gloves, guiltless of 



EUROPE IN- STORM AXD CALM. 



(j()9 



wrinkle, and tlic glossy hat. But these things 
are, however, only for commonplace occa- 
sions. On the day which marks a crowning 
stage in his memorahle career he puts on an 
old coat, his second-best liat, and the dingy- 
brown trousers of long ago. 

He walked into Palace yard as if he 
were immensely surprised to find it packed, 
and went into the House of Lords without 
looking up, and with an air of being absorbed 
entirely in his forthcoming speech, although 
he must have known that, instead of the 
empty benches usually seen, the chamber was 
thronged from end to end, that tlie privy- 
councillors were in their places before the 
throne, and that the hues of a flower garden 
were blended with the soft colors of a rain- 
bow, which the beauty and rank of the Empire 
formed, and through which, after the storm 
of the Berlin Congress, the sun shone down on 
the Prime Minister. 

Lord Beaconsfield, when he returned 
from Berlin in conn^any with Lord Salis- 
bury, and was on his wav from the rail- 
way station to the little black house in 
Downing street, where the prime niinis- 
w- ters have always resided, was cheered 
'^ to the echo by the waiting thousands ; 
and yet the outcome of his visit was 
nothing more than the return to slavery 
of a million Christians, — a million 
wrested away from the other millions of 
liberated ones, — who, if the right pol- 
icy had been adopted by England, might 
have been made England's firm allies. 
Lord Beaconsfield'.s triumph was, as has 
been truly said by one of his biogra- 
phers, " a triumph notof I']ngland, not of 
an English [lolicy, not of an English- 
man : it was but the triumph of Judea, a 
Jewish policy, a Jew." 

Five years before the overwhelming 
of Beaconsfield and his policy Glad- 
stone had aroused all liberal England 
to a keen interest in the great events 
which were beginning in south-eastern 
Europe. There the Turkish oppression 
had finally become intolerable, and 



culminated in an insurrection in Herze- 
govina. This revolt of the peasantry 
against their Mahometan landlords in 
the rocky and picturesque provinces 
which had been under the Turkish do- 
minion for more than foiu' hundred yeais 
was at once recognized by careful stu- 
dents of European affairs as the opening 
of the P^asteru question, with all its 
perils, its penalties, and its possibilities. 
Of this insurrection in Herzegovina I 
saw much, and to all who looked on 
at the desultory fighting against the 
Turks in those autumn days of 1875 it 
was evident that a great movement for 
the independence and consolidation of 
the Slavs, who had so long been sepa- 
rated and crushed, had begun. Russia 
was moving mysteriously to promote this 
outl)re.ak against the Turk, but the Turk 
was determined to resist with all his 
power the inroad upon the provinces 
which he had not known how to develop 
or to conciliate. 

Bosnia and Herzegovina, lying on 
the confines of Austria, and possessing 
a population speaking the same Slavic 
tongue spoken by so many millions of 
Austrian subjects, were somewhat more 
accessilile to the influences of the outer 
world than provinces like Bulgaria and 
Roumelia. The insurrectionists in Her- 
zegovina and in Bosnia were amply 
aided by warriors from the uncouquered 
'• Black mountain," — the Montenegrins, 
so long the guardians of Freedom on 
the frontiers of Eiu'ope. The Egyptian 
and Asiatic troojis combating against 
these wild men, born among the stones 
and accustomed from their earliest 
infancy to hardships, had liut little 
chance of success. Wherever they 
could inflict atrocious cruelties they 
did so. The Austrian frontier was 
lined for miles with camps of the 
refufrees from the Turkish vengeance. 



670 EriiiiPE IN sya/ru axd calm. 

On tile liver Save, wliicli Idi-iiis tlir coxcvril with di'iisc forests, w:is iinofcii- 

lini' of ilcinnii<:iti(in lirtucoii IJosiiia [licil liy llial uUi;ilst rncr. ludlialilv cm 

iinil ^\ustri:i, I s:nv, uliile iiuikiiiif :i accouiit of the <lifiicultv uf tiariiii; the 

jiiiirney fmui lielii'nule. in Servi;i, to striitejietieul loiltes imitiiit; the^e and 

Sissek, dozens of inutihited l>oilies of tiie euiisuHdated [n-oviiiccs wit'i the iso- 

nien and women lloating ihjun the hited stations of Pannonia and tlie eoh.)- 

stl'eani. 'I'hese were tlie persc^ns wlio nies of the Asiatic shore. In the lirst 

had heen ninr<lered l)y the Kaslii- lialf of llie seventh eenlurv lli' Axars. 

Bazoni<s. At Kainnsa, in (K-lolur, proliting h_v the de|)artnre of llie legions 

187.'), the eanips of refiii^ecs ninst iiaxe of the Emperor Ileraclins, i alhed to li^^ht 

contained many tlionsands of peo|i!e to the Persians, invaded liie pidxince, (U>- 

whoin the Austrian y;overnment was vastated it, and occupied it in part. It 

conipelU'il to serve daily pensions, nn- wasahoutthat time tliat mnnerous Shivie 

less it wisiied to see these people die of trilies, wlio had come from heyonil tlie 

starvation npon its hands. In rich and Cariiathi.ins, estalilislied liiemsi-lves, by 

fertile IJosnia, with its towns feemini;' ccjnsent of tlie Eiiiperoi . in tin' eounlry, 

with an aeti\'e, industrious population, after they had expelled tlie A\ais. The 

the insurrection was at fust quite .Servians, properly so called, occupied 

successful; Imt, there the Turks were l' [iper IMoesia, Sirinia, and Pascia. The 

vi'ry prompt and soon l)rou<j;ht it under Chrohates, or Creates, already held all 

suhjection. It was therefore to the that couiitiy lielween Istri.i and Cettina, 

fastnesses and stidiiuholds on tlu' — to-day Croatia and a partof Dalmatia. 

Ilerzeedviiian fioiitier. hard liv the The Zachlnm. originally from ('helm, on 

Dalmatian coast, that the leaders and the borders of the N'istula. and the Xa- 

their f.-iitliful followers retreated .-ind rentines, — the old enemies of X'enice, — 

reorii'anized the guerilla warfaie wliii-h who gave their name to the river Na- 

proved so ellicieiit in bringing about nnita. oi' who, perhaps, look their name 

the greater contests soon to follow-, fi'om it, poi)ulated the land of Ilerze- 

With sympathetic populations on the govina. Another tribe c.anie after the 

Austrian side of tln' fidiitier the in- lirst, cstaMislu'd itself in what is now 

siirgents were not likely to lack for .Montenegro, and its people were for a 

supplies, and so they kei)t up their re- long tiini' called Dioclates, from the 

sistauce, waiting ini|ia,tieiitly for the ancient name of the lilai-k moiiutain. 

standard of revolt to be raised in liosnia was soon invaded by these 7ni- 

Servia, Bulgaria, and in all the rich grating tribes, and the new Slavic State 

countries of Turkey in Eiiiope. was i'ormed. United for a short time 

Bosnia, Herzegovina, and ^Pjiiteiie- under Douchaii, these various States 

gro were a |)ait of the old country of the were soon separate<l after the fall of the 

Dalmatians, which was uniteil ti> the Servian empire, and each once enjoyed a 

Poinaii Empire under 'I'iberins, and com- separated existence, — IJo.siiia under its 

prised, besides the abo\-e-meiitioned conn- kings, Herzegovina under its dukes, 

tries, a part of |ii-esiait Dalmatia. of ^loutenegro under its vlailikas, up to 

Upper Sla\diiia, and of Ser\ia. The the time of the Ottoman eoiii|Uest. Ser- 

Poinans appear to have colonized onlv a \ia fell in 1 l."i7. Bosnia in 1 KI.'l, Iler- 

part of the province. .Ml that portion zegovina in 14('i7, before the invading 

situated in the centre and on the east, Turk ; but Montenegro, sheltered by her 



EVROPE IN STORM AXD CAL.V. 



(;7i 



mountain ramparts, never surrendered 
atall. Bosnia and Herzegovina tooether 
have aliout twice tlie area of lieloinm. 
ISIonteiieu'ro is a little laliyrinth of rocks, 
interspersed with deep grottos and can- 
yons, — the Montenegrin legend l)eiiig 
tliat when the good fio<l was sowing 
rocks and monntains in space, he cariied 
them all in a great bag, and that as he 
was passing over a certain point the 
bottom of the bag fell out, and all the 
mountains and rocks in that day's stock 
constituted Montenegro. 

Servia, a compact and fertile State of 
one thousand square miles in area, well 
watered by noble streams and studded 
by sjilendid forests, is divided into tu(j 
distinct regions: Upper Servia.. lying 
between the two Moravas, — the Sei- 
vian, rising in the west, and the I>ul- 
garian in the south ; and Lower Servia, 
formed by the ample l)asin of the (ireat 
Morava in which these two streams 
unite, has all the elements of empire 
within it. Had it not been for the 
lialeful influence of the Turk, under 
whose horses' hoofs no grass can grow, all 
these various Slavonic States noiv si)ring- 
ing into a fresh and vigorous national ex- 
istence might have become vcrj' ricli and 
jiowerful. The Servians were the first 
of the Slavs who had emliraced (.'hris- 
tianity. After the schism of Photius 
they hesitated for some time lietween 
Rome and Constantinoi)le, an<l liiially at- 
tached themselves to the Greek Church, 
while their neighbors, the Croats, re- 
mained Roman Catholics. Up to the 
tenth century they underwent many po- 
litical vicissitudes. They were subjects 
or vassals of the Greeks and the linlga- 
rians until the day when one of their 
chiefs declared himself independent of 
tlie monarchies of liyzantium, and took 
the title of king, which his desceudauts 
bore after him. This Chief Simeon ali- 



dicated in ll'.tj, and became a monk, 
under the name of Stei)hen. lie had 
two sons ; Stepheu-the-Fii-st-Crowned, 
so called because he was the lii'st Ser- 
vian prince who received the royal 
unction in 1"217, who succeeded him, 
like his father went into a cloister 
toward the close of his days ; the 
second son founded the national church 
of Servia. In 134G Stephen Douchau, 
the Powerful, the ninth successor to the 
Servian monarchy, had biought under 
his domination the greater part of the 
P>alkan peninsula, and carried his con- 
(pu'riug l)anners even to the gates of 
Constantinople, called himself " Tsar," 
and was leeognizi'd by the republic of 
Venice and by the Holy See. His so]i, 
who reigned after him, was assassinated 
in l.'lCiT. and in l.'iTl the crown passed 
to another family, — to tlie Piince L(jza- 
lus of the Servian popular ballads. Un- 
der the reign of this Prince Lozarus 
the Turks, commanded by IMurad II., 
gave battle to the Servians at Kossovo, 
on the 13th of June, 13s;). IJoth the 
sidtan and Lozarus were killed, and the 
Turks were victorious, and Servia lost 
h'-r independence. 

The Servian throne was not over- 
turned, however, until 14.31), wdien 
JIahomet II. attacked Servia, and defi- 
nitely iucor]iorated it with the Turkish 
Empire. The Slavs then seemed hope- 
lessly condemned to cainivity and subju- 
gation. Servia disappeared from history 
until, after three centuries and a half of 
unwilling slavery, a heroic swineherd 
of the Servian mountains i-ose against 
the Turks, and led his followers to vic- 
tory. Becoming a true le.-ider of the 
people, a wise and good dictator and 
prince, driving the Turks lieyond the 
frontier, he was invested with supreme 
jiow-er, and reigned from l.'^04 to 1813. 
Then liaek came the Tuiks to drive out 



<;72 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD C.IL.U. 



the newly iiist;illoil govorument, ;uk1 for 
more tlinii two veais tlie uuhappy popu- 
lation was subjected to the most terrible 
excesses. ]Massaeros and every torture 
that Turkish vengeance could suggest 
were the order of tlu' day. In ISl.j the 
people rose again at the voice of Milosch, 
whom Russia supported as best she 
could, and after fifteen years' fighting the 
valiant little country succeeded in getting 
its autonomy recognized by the Porte, 
and by a firman of the same epoch the 
victor was declared hereditary Prince of 
Servia. To-day tlie country is an inde- 
liendent kingdom, recognized as such by 
the treaty of l>eilin in 1.S78, and Prince 
^lilan, the cultivated and accomplished 
ruler, was made king. Servia has a con- 
stitution according hereditary sover- 
eignty, rendering ministers responsible 
before the National Assembly, and giv- 
ing exercise of the legislative power 
simultaneously to the king and the pub- 
lic legislature, which meets annually. 
The Senate of Servia has been Irnns- 
formeil into a Council of State, chaigccl 
with the " elaboration of the laws" pre- 
pared by the general power aboxr men- 
tioned. 

With IJosnia. Herzegovina. INFonte- 
negro, and .Servia in insurreetiun. al- 
most one-half of the vast and licauti- 
ful iloniain of Turkey in Europe was in 
revolt, and it was easy to see that the 
movement would soon spread to P>ul- 
garia, and might cross the Balkans, and 
go downward to Constantinople. The 
tone of public sentiment in Russia also 
showed, even in these days of 187o, that 
the advance of a liberating army through 
Bessarabia and Roumania to tlic rescue 
of the Christians in the south was not 
among the impossilalitios. Yet Em-ope 
went on in its blind, old, sleepy w;iy, jiro- 
claiming that there was no danger of any 
change in the situation, although within 



a few years the most tremendous 
clianges had taken place. Early in 1876 
the insurrectionists gained a victory 
over the Turks in Herzegovina. Then 
came the scheme of reform presented by 
Count Andrassy in favor of the insur- 
gents, and this was accepted by the sul- 
tan's government in February of 187G. 
But iu May came the news of the Bul- 
garian outrages, the terrible atrocities at 
Batak, the vengeance of the oi)pressor 
upon the oppressed before they could es- 
cape from his tyranny. The massacres bv 
the Circassians in Bulgaria were thor- 
oughly chronicled in the •' Daily News." 
the leading liberal journal in London, bv 
JMr. ]\Iac<Tahan, who investigated them 
at the risk of his life, and told of them 
with the simiile clocjuence of con\ictiou. 
What Mr. MacGahan saw in the Bulga- 
rian towns was enough to prove that 
sixty or seventy villages had been burned, 
that lifteeu or sixteen thousand people 
had been massacred, tliat among the 
dead were thousands of women and 
children, and the women liad lieen out- 
raged before death, and that there was 
no provocation on the part of the P>ul- 
garians, I)eyond their well-known desire 
for freedom, to [irouipt to such awful 
carnage. 

The horror and commiseration which 
the recital of these atrocities aroused in 
Europe were nowhere more [jronounced 
than in England. There was a conference 
at Berlin of the Emperors of Russia and 
Germany, Bismarck and Count Andrassy 
being present. They put their heads 
together ; the British fleet iu the Medi- 
terranean was ordered to Besika Bay ; 
Constantinople was in ti'rror over the 
insurrection in Bulgaria, which, although 
it had been put down with such violence, 
was still a bugbear to the peace of Tur- 
key. The shrinking and incapal)le sul- 
tan, Abdul Aziz, was deposed at 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



673 



Constantiiioiile, to perish iiiisfr;il)ly liy 
liis own IkuiiI, of. ;is soiiii.' say, liy hired as- 
sassins. Later on, Mnrad V., who suc- 
ceeded him, announced that tlie Tnrl\i--li 
government was henceforth to ^raut the 
liljcrties ol' all. ICin'ope suiiled at the 
possil)ility of a Turl<isli railiament. 

Meanwhile Disraeli took a jocular 
view of the massacres in Bulgaria, and 
announced th;it the British Government 
had taken measures for the maintenance 
of jieace. It was apparent, liowever, 
that there was to be no peace in the East 
nntil the Slavs had set themselves free. 
In .Iiuie of 187G Prince Milan of Servia 
left Belgrade and went to his army on 
the frontier. The time had come, he 
said, to meet the Turk face to face. The 
situation of Servia was no longei' toler- 
able, and with insurrection in ISosnia 
and Plerzegovina, the Servian people 
must declare war. The Montenegrins 
joined their fortunes to Servia. The 
troo|)S of these bold little States were 
at first defeated. But presently came 
another revolution at C'onstantino|ile. 
Murad \'. was succeeded liy jVIhIuI 
Hamid 11. All Kurojic was now turn- 
ing its gaze to the East ; Russia was 
aiding the Servians, who, in a Imrst of 
enthusiasm, finally proclaimed Prince 
j\lilan King of Servia and Bosnia, — a 
proclamaliou which they had later on to 
see annulled by Act of Congress. i\Ir. 
Gladstone had placed himself on record 
as the uncompromising enemy of the 
Turkish executive power in Bulgaria, 
and in all other States. '• Let the 
Turks," he said, " carry away their 
abuses iu the only iiossible manner — by 
carr3'ing off themselves. " In the same 
address, in characterizing the Turkish 
Government, he said, " We may ran- 
sack the annals of the world but I know 
not what research can fuiiiish us with 
so portentous an example of the fiendish 



misuse of the powers established by God 
for the punishment of evil-doers, and 
for the encouragement of them that do 
well. No government ever has so 
sinned, none has so proved itself incor- 
rigible in sin, or, uhich is the same, so 
impotent for reformation." As the Ser- 
vian war progressed the Czar of Russia 
made a proposition for tlie joint military 
occupation of Bosnia and Bulgaria ; it 
was felt that Austria might presently 
appear on the scene ; public feeling in 
Russia and Turkey was greatly excited; 
finally, a short armistice between Servia 
and Turkey was exacted at the instance 
of the Russian Government. Lord Salis- 
buiy was sent on his famous joiuney to 
Constantinoiile, riii, Paris, IJerlin, Vienna, 
and Rome, to get the views t)f the various 
governments on a pi'o|iosed conference 
on the Eastern Question. Dm'ing this 
journey Lord Salisbury satisfied himself 
of the truth of many things, none moie 
interesting perhaps than that the Triple 
.\lliance between the three great mili- 
tary cmiiires of Russia, Giermany, and 
.Vnstria, decided on their respective lines 
of policy when war should break out in 
the East, had been consummated as 
early as 1873. This must havi' caus.-d 
some surprise when it was first made 
known in Europe, and threw a new light 
u[)on all the movements in the P2ast. 
The leading features of tlie P.erlin 'J'reaty 
of lfS78 had, it is said, been decided ujion 
several years before the downward move- 
ment of the Russian armies toward 
llulgaria. Lord Salisl.nry, .•ilthough rep- 
i-esenting a i)ro-Tnrkisli pai'ty iu the 
English cabinet, was informed during 
his journey that the English (loM'iiunent 
had decided that England would not 
" assent to or assist in coercive meas- 
ures, n)ilitary or naval, against the Porte. 
The Porte must, on tlie other hand, be 
made to understand, as it has from the 



674 



El'RorE IN STORM AND CALM. 



first been iiiformeil. tliat it e;iii expect Meanwhile turn with me from this 

uo assistance IVoni Knolaud in the event eooteniphitiou of tlie proiiress of events 



of war." Had Eiighuid used its influ- 
ence to coerce the Tnrk in those days, 
the succeeding campaijins, the entrance 
of Russia upon tlie scene, and her us- 
sumptidu of pri'doininatiuii' influence in 
Eastern Europe might iiave Ijeeu clieclved 
or averted. 



in the East to recall a curious incident 
of the Herzegovinan insurrection, — a 
visit which I made in company with two 
or three other journalists to the in- 
surgents' camp, established among the 
almost inaceessilile crags not far from 
the coast, in the autumn of 1875. 



EUROPE h\ STORM AND CALM. 



675 



CII AFTER SP:VENTY-SEVEN. 



A D;iv with a Voivoda. - 



An In*ur;j^eiit Lcuiler. — Among the Kocks. — A Picturesque Experience. 
Turk and Slav. — Ljubibratic and his Men. 



k:- 



S we rode down the little hill be- 
-L^ tweeii Ragusa and Gravosa it 
snddenly occurred to us that every one 
else had gone to sleep in the quiet of 
the warm October afternoon, and that it 
was especially alisurd to be starting ui)on 
a long and toilsome joinnev, when we 
could sit under the clitt's by the Adriatic 
and lie lulled into delicious repose by the 
music of the l.iine waves breaking against 
the reddish-tinted rocks. The tiny villas 
nestling in the olive-groves seemed to 
blink sleepily at us as we passed ; the 
[leasants lying curled up by the wayside 
in curiously picturesque heaps slept 
soundly ; the boatmen huddled beneath 
the awnings of their small crafts were 
snoring in unison as we came to the ba- 
sin at Gravosa ; the vast hills, which rose 
stern, stony, terrible hi the distance, ap- 
peared to be dreaming in the tremulous 
autunni sunshine. In the cafi of Gra- 
vosa half-a-dozen stalwart mnuntaiueers 
had laid aside their packs, and, burying 
their laces in their hands, were leaning 
forward upon the tallies. In the post- 
office the venerable clerk had doffed his 
heavy Austrian cap, laid his head against 
the wall near the wicket, and luxuriously 
closed his eyes. It was one of the clock 
in the afternoon in Dalniatia. and men 
who walked abroad, and seemed bent 
upon some errand at that hour sacred to 
sleep, would have been watched as dan- 
gerous had there been any one awake 
to watch them. 

The general sleepiness seemed to (ip- 



jiress lis, although we had need of all 
our faculties at that moment. The driver, 
who appeared ready to fall from his seat, 
overcome with somnolence, pulled up 
his horses beneath the shade of a large 
tree, and we leaned liack in the rickety 
carriage, and were fast yielding to tem|)- 
tation when we were aroused by the 
sharp, clear voice of our guide, who had 
been lingering behind. " We must go 
on to (Emilia," he said. " The viiivoda 
will soon follow us, and we must get 
boats ready and lose no time when he 
catches up with us, or we shall not reach 
the camp liefore dark. And strangers," 
— said our gnide, Tonio, with a half-dis- 
dainful inrtection upon the word, — 
'• strangers cannot pick their way among 
the Herzegovinan rocks after nightfall." 

•' But there will be a full moon," we 
ventured to remark. 

"So much the worse for you," said 
Tomo, speaking slowly in the Italian, 
which was difficult for his Slavic tongue, 
but was the necessary vehicle of con- 
versation. "The moonlight might lead 
the gentlemen to break their necks. The 
moon plays queer tricks in these rocky 
fields. She makes one believe that there 
is solid stone where there is a j'awning 
[irecipice. She tries the eyes of the 
mountaineer, puts magical charms be- 
fore his gaze, and makes him lose his 
way. The gentlemen could not even 
walk among our crags and rocks in the 
moonlight. Better a thitk darkness : then 
one is not dazed ; and one can grope." 



«)7n 



EVnoPK IN STORM AND CALM. 



So s;i\ iiii:, Toiiio sliciuld ri'd liis i;ini. 
tiinii'cl gi-ncul'iilly from irs, and .set out 
for Oinlila. 'I'lu' driver iiiiimtieiitly liiitli- 
ered up his reins, inunniiiing. " Miidri' 
di Dill! wlieii shall we lie well rid of 
these Cireeks?" and we rattled along in 
Touici's wake. 

A tnrn in the road just as we seemed 
about to plunge into the Adriatie, a driv<' 
along a narrow caiisewav with an aim 
of the sea on one s de ;uid high stone 
walls and scraggy houses on the other, 
and at last we eame to a scjuare sur- 
rounded with low villa-s. A little alley 
led down to ihe water-side. At the fiiot 
of three .steps a huge Ixjat was mocucd. 
In the boat lay its owner asleej). Here 
we were to await the voivoda. 

I'letinc to ycjurself a vast amplii- 
theatre of eolo.ssal rocks rising uiajes- 
tieally fidm blue water fringed with a 
few straggling trees. A.s far as the eye 
can reach hillwanl notliing but stones, 
bald, uneouth, tremeiulons, piled one 
upon another in confusion which no i)en 
can describe. Here the walls which 
shut out the ric'h \alleys and smiling 
fields beyond seem almost periiendic- 
ulai'. Une cannot imagine that ;im<>ng 
them there ai'e roadways, or even paths 
along which goals and their shepherds 
may stray. In the centre of the amphi- 
theatre are a lew scattered white cottages 
surroLuiding a mysterious rivulet which 
liubbles up from the rocks, and, after 
flowing in an im|)etuous current for a 
short distance, disajipears again among 
thein. It is a region from which there 
seems no outlet save that by which \\v 
entered it, one narrow strip of winding 
lo.ad. Such is the basin of hill-guarded 
Ombhi. 

'I'he coast of Dalniatia, at this point, 
where its mountains touch the frontier 
of Herzegovina, is wonderfully rich in 
color. At early morning pin-|ile tints 



seem to lie lovingly U|ion the slopes and 
terraces of s one ; at noon gieat glorious 
waves of light l)reak over ihem, and 
magically transform them into reddish- 
brown ruined castles, or deep gray mon- 
astei'ie.s,or [link org-oMen forest.s ; every- 
thing seems strange and su[iernatural. 
]>ate in the afternoon the sliailowsgathe" 
in Ihe ten ihousaud nooks and ciX'vices, 
and lend a forliidding aspect (o the enor- 
mous barriers which seem to have some 
secret to guard, and to refuse aiimittance 
to the land beyond to Ihe anxious wan- 
derer. One feels as if one »eie upon 
enchanted ground. 

( )f the many routes which lead into 
Herzegovina from Kagusa, the near- 
est Dalmatian port, there is imt one 
which is in any sense practicable for 
even the rude wagons or the pack-mules 
used in the transportation of su|iplies to 
the Turkish fortresses. All the others 
lead through small villages perched 
among the mountains at points where a 
little soil and a few siirings of fresh 
water are to lie found. The unliappy trav- 
eller who should alteinpt alone to thread 
these coni|iaiatively unfreipieiited and 
absolutelv labyrinthini' [laths would in- 
cur imminent risk <.)f dying of exhaus- 
tion, or might fall a (irey to the small 
banditti always hovering along the Aiis- 
tiian frontier, bidding defiance to the 
f/ciiihiriiii'.'i, or, if caught, pretending to 
lie insurgents on the lookout for arms 
and ammunition. If the traxcller lie ac- 
companied bv a stout guide he will yet 
find himscdf many times on the [loint of 
succumbingto the dreadful fatigue w Inch 
over<-omes him as he clambers iiices- 
santlv up, up, np, with little or no chance 
for repose, and with the sun's rays beat- 
ing down with terrific force upon his 
lieail. Those wh<i lunc ever wandered 
along the side of N'esnvius under an 
August sunlight can in a faint degree 



EUItOi'E I\ STorni AM) CALM. 



677 



appreciate tlie terrors of a rliinliinn 
joust ill the mountains ou tlie Ilerzego- 
vinan fmntiir. 

Our ijuide, Toino, liad luaiiy tiiiicM told 
us of the dangers of tiie way ; indeed, 
lie toolv a certain malicious phMSiin- in 
deiiicling every liorror, and in setting it 
ill tlie most repulsive light. Tliis ln' did 
not from any ill-will towards ns, Imt fniin 
that natural instinct wliicli leads the 
mountaineer and the sailor always to 
mock at those who are nnaccnstoiiud to 
precipices or to tlie sea. Oiir gay and 
cosmopolitan party, gathered from all 
corners of the world to witness the great 
struggle in progress in the autumn of 
187o liy the oppressed Christians against 
their op|iressive Turkish masters, iip<iii 
whom they had finally turned with all 
the energy of men made desperate liy 
long suffering, had been sungly en- 
caiuped in the gariison town of Kagusa 
for soin ■ days, patiently awaiting a sum- 
mons from one of ihe insurgent chiefs, 
camped near the Austrian border, to visit 
him. The cfmimittee of Slavs in Ra- 
gnsa interested in the success of the in- 
surrection had forwarded to one of the 
camps a request that we should be es- 
corted to the centre of operations, and 
introduced personally to the leaders who 
were lighting for freedom and for the 
maintenance of the Christian religion. 
Sever.'d times, a day had been aiijiointed. 
and guides had lieen sent to meet us, 
but before we had left Eagusa news had 
arrived that the insurgents had broken 
camp and were on a forced march of 
many days. Thus we had waited in un- 
certainty, until one morning we were in- 
formed that the main body of the rebels, 
twenty-five hundred strong, was en- 
camped in the almost inaccessilile vil- 
lage of Grebzi, in a corner of Herze- 
govina, within a few hours' march of 
Ragusa. Footsore, exhausted, and with 



aininiiiiitio!!-b()xes neai'ly eiiii)!}', tliis lit- 
tle army had resolutely placed its picket 
lilies within half an hour's march of a 
formidalile Turkish fortress, and had 
determined to study the situation before 
liroceediug farther. The chiefs held a 
meeting, and decided to send their leader, 
the voivoda, a stem, brave, well-edu- 
cated man. named Ljubiliratic, to liagusa, 
that he might, during his bi-ief visit, get 
some idea of the opinidii of the outside 
world coneerniug the struggle. The voi- 
\oda came from his fortress to Ragusa ; 
there we met him and were invited to 
return with him to tlie rock-surround hI 
camp of Cirehzi. The invitation was ac- 
cepted. The news, s[)eedily bruited abroad 
in Ragusa, so astonished the Turkish con- 
sul that he quite forgot his dignity, and 
calling on ns one by one, entreated us 
" not to risk our lives among the ruf- 
fians ; " not " to believe the hundred lies 
we were sure to hear from the Greeks ;"' 
and, finally, not to give the insurgents 
any details relative to the [lositious of 
Turkish forces which we had seen during 
a recent joniney made on the high ro;id 
to Trebigne, an important Turkish |)0st. 
We fancied that we could detect a twin- 
kle of malice in the consul's eye as he 
dei)recatingly bade us good-bv when he 
found that we were determined to ven- 
tiiie among the insurgents, and it did not 
require a lively imagination to picture 
him sending a messenger iu hot luiste to 
the nearest Mahometan fort, advising 
its commander to intercept ns, and not 
only capture the wandeiing viiivoda, Ini!, 
cut off the heads of his companions. An 
encounter with a Turkish patrol was 
among the possibilities, but we dismissed 
the unpleasant thought of it from our 
minds, as we stood looking at the sombre 
and precipitous banks of Ouibla, and 
concentrated our attention upon the ex- 
acting task before us. 



67.S 



Friini'E ix smmi A.\r> <\\i.m. 



Meniitiiiio the voivodii, with lii.s littlu 
li(i(ly-i>u:inl of t;ill, litlie Herzegoviiiaiis, 
well armed with trusty, although ancient 
rirtes, with yatajihans taken from the 
)" idles of dead Turks, and with pistols 
half a yard long, was supposed to he 
plodding on from Ragusa to overtake 
us, and at Onihla we were all to start 
together for the mountain aseent. An 
lidur passed ; the boatman awoke, rolled 
and lighted a eigarette, swore a gentle 
oath, looked at the sun, then at us, and 
shrugged his sluiuldei's ; no V('iivoda came. 
Another hour [lassed. during which the 
lioatuian and Tonm, besides continually 
consuming cigarettes, now and then burst 
into violent invectives ; still no voivod;i 
came. The Frenchman in our (larty sang 
a song ; the Italian fumed and fi'ette<l ; 
the Slavic professor mainlaiued an at- 
titude expressive of mild aslouishmeut ; 
the Kussian agent, sent to dispense 
moneys and charities, IVouiied tremen- 
dously, and hinted that the viiivoda was 
not as good as his wonl ; and we two 
Americans looked I'rom one to the other 
of the members of the eccentric group, 
and then glance(1 along the dusty road 
down which the v('iivoda was exjiected. 

There he was! An old man, almost 
gi'ovelliuii in the dust, was kissing' his 
hand, worshipjiing in him the would-lie 
liberator of his race. Surely, the viii- 
voda was a romantic and impressive fig- 
ure as he strode a few steps ahead of his 
guard through the village. Tlie liyluiil 
Slavo-Italiau children bowed and courte- 
sied ; the nut-brown maidens blushed 
and cast down their eyes; the old 
women shrieked with delight, •• ^'(jivoda ! 
viiivoda ! Now may Heaven bless and 
preserve yo\i many years, ever gix.id 
.viiivfida. our onlv trust, our all ! " The 
affection, the earnest adoration, were 
almost painful to witness. The uien-at- 
arms urinued with deliiiht and sti-ntted 



with maitial air. Handsome fellows 
were they, witli long, coal-black hair 
and mustaches, with noble necks and 
chests, sinewy and synnuetrical limbs. 
Their teeth were like pearls, their eyes 
were bright, their gait was elastic. In- 
voluntarily they glanced at us. then at 
the rocks overhanging Ombla. and then 
they shook their heads. We felt chal- 
lenged to put forth our best efforts on 
tlie march, and nerved ourselves ac- 
cordingly. 

Viiivoda Ljubibi'atic looked like an 
ancient Servian king step|ied out of the 
nuirgin of some illuminateil manuscript 
of Steiihen Douchan's time. He wore 
the costume of the people of Servia, 
among whom he had lived nearly all 
his life, although he was Ilcrzegovinan 
born. A green tunic, with loosely-flow- 
ing sleeves, was girt aViout his waist with 
a simple belt, in which there were no 
weapons. At his side hung a tine sabre 
of modern make, the symbol of his au- 
thoritv. His leggins and his (i/i((iiki''s, 
oi' slippers, were of line material, but 
nnicli woi'u and frayed by long marches 
in the I'ockv bv-wavs. Beneath tin- tunic 
his am|)le chest was covered by a Ser- 
vian jacket, richly embroidered with gold 
and silvei'. His face, exce|itioiKdly line 
in repose, bore an expression of simple 
good-humor when animate(l ; a lofty 
brow, onlv pai'tiv shaded by a JMonte- 
negrin caji ; line eyes, whic-li had a sin- 
uular fashion of looking out and away 
from present objects, as if their owner 
were continually endeavoring to ex;un- 
iue the future; a sensitive mouth and a 
noI)le brown beard, were the conspicuous 
features. One instinctively felt proud 
to take the voivoda. by the hand. 

This title of " voivoda " was not the 
exclusive iuY)]ierty of our friend Ljulii- 
bi-atii-. In the camp at (irebzi wi're lialf- 
a-do/.cu other chieftains who. fi'om the 



EUROPF. IN STORyr AND CAr.V. 



(i79 



fact that they commanded larjie l)odies 
of men, were privileged to ciniilny tlie 
same prefix to their names ; Imt. recog- 
nizing the fact that there must ))e only 
one supreme authority, they had vested 
it in Ljubibratic, and had permitted him 
to be recognized in all the country round 
as the voivoda. I iiave endeavored to 
give the singular name the English 
spelling which most resembles its sound 
when it is pronounced by the Slavs 
themselves. In Servia there are five 
grand territorial divisions called t'ci/- 
vodies, created for convenience in 
grouping the militia of the country, and 
the leaders of the troops are called 
ro/i'or/.s'. 

As soon as he could free liiniself from 
the cxu))erant caresses of the people in 
the village the voivoda beckoned the 
boatman to approach. The obsequious 
fellow doffed his hat, and came running 
up the stone steps, muttering compli- 
ments in ills Italian dialect. •' Set us 
across at vonder point," said the voivoda, 
pointing to along, ragged promontory of 
stone some distance below the little white 
houses of Ombla. '' And remember," 
he added in liquid Italian, wiiicli lie spoke 
far better than the boatman himself, 
" let no one in the village say whither we 
have gone or how many we are." He 
laid his hand heavily on the boatman's 
shoulder. The brown hand of the Italian 
came up to his breast and made a sign as 
of complete subordination to the voivo- 
da's will. We hastened into the boat, 
anil were soon on the opposite shore. As 
we l)egan to climb among the rocUs two 
rough-looking fellows, the very counter- 
parts of the Italian brigands we have all 
so often seen in operas, arose mj'steri- 
ously from behind a crag, and, without 
even deigning to notice our i)arty of 
strangers, clad in the ugly, civilized 
clothes which are looked upon with such 



contenqit in the Le^•allt. set off at a sharj) 
pace ahead of us. 

The viiivoda was thoughtful. The sun 
was pouring great floods of scorching 
heat down upon the bare stones, but he 
seemed oblivious alike of the warmth and 
of the mighty ascent. He lounged slowly 
behind all the others, rolling cigarettes 
in an indolent, thoughtful way, as every 
one does in these Eastern countries, and 
n<jw and then stopping to take a long 
look at the Turkish frontier, which we 
could see as soon as we had climbed to 
the to[) of the first ridge. He seemed to 
be studying every rock, as if calculating 
how all these mute forces could be turned 
into agents to aid in destroying the op- 
pressive Mahometans. 

It seemed like tenqiting Providence to 
climb such awful heights under a burn- 
ing sun. There were moments when the 
courage of our party gave way during 
the first half- hour, and we determined to 
return. We looked up; tliere towered 
the mighty, bald masses, unutteralily 
graiKl, silent, severe; tlicrc seemed no 
way tliroiigh them or around or lieiieath 
them. We looked down, and we saw 
the l)lne waters of the inlet at Ombla, the 
boatmen tranquilly rowing in the breezy 
waves or lying luxuriously stretched out 
beneath their awnings as their little craft 
rorki'd to and fro, and we were anxious 
to get down to safe ground again. The 
thought of night among these moinitains 
seemed almost frightful to us. But we 
rose and staggered along. 

Suddenly we turned a sharp corner 
and came to a rocky ledge, from wliieh 
we had a glorious view of the trancpiil 
Adriatic. How beautifid was the sea, 
girdling the little dun-colored islets and 
setting boldly in to the romantic inden- 
tations of the coast 1 Miles below, on 
the Dalmatian shore, we could see here 
and there a chapel lonely upon a hill- 



(iSO EVliOPE IX STORM AM) CALM. 

side, (ir ri (ImiIc <Iniii|) uf dHvc.' ti<'cs, or neck. A sccoiiil n;l;mc(' at the mass 

a little vilhiiic clinuiiii; to the rocks out showeil tliat it was a I'oitilical ion which 

of which it was Imill. We tiiriieil fidiii we hail seen iiiaiiv times lM'foi-c. — the 

the sea witli a sii;h. and chuiiliered once rouial, iiietnresc|ue fort of C/ar no, 

more. on tlie Tin-kish fiontier. With tiie aid 

'romo, the unide, i-eniinded me mnch of onr lield-nhisses we conhl see fimiies 

of thi^se stalwart In'onze-colored men moviu<; alioiit on the rainiun ts, and the 

whom I had seen in the Indian Territorv, Knsslan ancnt insisted thai thev, too, 

those still splendid types of the fadini; were sweepinn' the skv with ulasses, 

Cherokee and Choctaw races lie had and that they saw ns. 

the same nraeeful (piickness of limli. the " \Vhat matter?" said the \rii\-o(hi 

same stern re[)ose of featnre. the sami' serenely. " We mav sit here and make 

Conteni|it for fatiii'ne. He never sat months at onr enemies : we are on .Vuij- 

down forest.: lie was in perpetnal move- Irian teriitory, and they dare not tire on 

meiit. If we came hy chance to a little ns ; and as to their sendiiii; a [latro! it 

terrace where s(jme miseraliU' peasant conld not even leave the fort without 

li:id taken advantai;'e of half an acre of lieini!: si<inalled to onr | |ilc at Greb/.i 

untr'.istworthy soil to i;row a sti-auiflinu and (hiwn to ns here hefoie the Turks 

vineyard, he did not stretch his limlis in eonid have i;-ot well niiiha- way. There 

the shade of tiie vines, as we did : luit are men in that fort wlio know tliese 

lie lea|ied flom rock to rock, he \aulted mountain wavs : thev were limuiiht up 

lightly across a cliasin, clamlicred up a in llerzeeoN iua ; thev are renegades 

peak, ran for a few yards, stoo I poised to their lelieion and to their race; thev 

almost a.s it he were aliout totly auav are the list men to\eiilui-e out among 

like a liird. Sometimes lie sail"' a indi', the p|-ecipices so near ninhtrall ; and as 

liul not niininsical soul;, in whicli he was for the Asiatic portion of tlie eairison 

joined liy two Montenegrins who were tliere is no danger that it will come to 

with lis, and who kept time lo the refiaiii ns. for il is i|n.Mkiiig with terror in antiei- 

hy lirandishiug their wea|ions as thev pation of an attack u|ion the walls of 

walked. Tomo constantly came lo us, Czarino this x'ery night." And the 

encouraging ns. speaking kind words in viiiviula ti'amiuilly iightetl another cigar- 

his Italian /"'/'i/,s .• •• Courage I the worst ette. 

is over. Yon will soon he at a little vil- This fort of Czarinf> oecu|)ies an al- 

lage where you can rest. AudimiKi !" most isolated crag, aliont half an hour's 

After an hour's climhing we found our- I'lde from the city of Kagusa. It donii- 

selves on a huge shelf from which we nates the only practicable route from 

could look out hundreds of vards o\er southern Austria into Herzegovina 

the rocky tield in evi'iy direction. The and the other iirovinces subject to 

voivoda came to us and smilinulv Turkey. The insurgents persisted in 

pointeil to a dark, round mass on the hoveiin^' near it, although there wa.s 

horizon, whit'li, as birds llv. wcmld have but little eliauce of seiairiug it. " If 

bi'en scarcely a quarter of a mile ilivtant . I had iml two Iiatteiies of mountain 

but which could have been I'eacjied in artillery ! " sighed the viiivoda. •■ Hut 

tliese terrilile mountains only li\- tlie we lia\'e nothing, niyt e\eii amiminition 

high-road from IJagnsa. or by several eiiougli to light a good battle. " He 

bonis of clanilierin<'- at the lisk of oue'.s turned aua\' in sileiicH', and the Russian 



EUROPE f.Y SrOR'J A .YD CAL.V. 



fiSl 



agent 1) uMu to say comforting words, 
and to hint ;it the snpport which wouUl 
be mysterioH.sly forthcoming at the 
pi'oper time. 

Crawling, scrambling, leaping, our 
heads dizzy, our shonlders and limlis 
lame, we finally came to a platcan, at 
whose fartliei' extremity, under the 
shadow of a rocky hill, we saw a little 
village. There were a few green trees, 
and low one-story houses, miserably 
thatcluMl, and hea|ied ididiit with stones. 
A ragged i)f)|nilation came out to meet 
us. The women were mainly engaged 
in earrving lieavy lun'dens, fagots of 
wood or bundles of grain, on their 
heads. Incessant toil had taken away 
most of their enthusiasm ; they merely 
courtesied as the vi'Uvoda passed. The 
men greeted the chief with effusive 
friendship and reverence. Although 
still in Austiia, Ljubiljratic felt thf)r- 
oughly at home liere, because the pt-ople 
were of the same race, religion, and 
sentiment as the ignoi'ant and opjjressed 
Herzegovinans over tlie liorder. As 
we stejuied in upon the circle of a stone 
threshing-floor, and sat down to drink 
from a gourd, and to bathe our swollen 
hands, torn and bruised with grasping 
the rocks, a noble and statuesque f)ld 
man, fully six feet and a half in heigiit, 
came forward to greet the viJivoda. 
This venerable man was as erect and 
stately as he had been at twenty-five ; 
his eyes wi're dim, liut he still had a 
firm gait and a noble port, although he 
had seen ninety years. His fine head 
was enveloped in a voluminous red 
turli:iii, but the rest of his garments 
were little better than rags. This was 
the chief of tiie village, and h(> held a 
long and animated conversation with 
the viiivoda, urging him, so said Tomo, 
the guide, to do some daring act which 
should so coni|)ronnse the Slavic poim- 



lation iu iVustria that they would be 
compelled to join in the struggle against 
the Turks. When the old man had 
liuisheil his remarks he gravely kissed 
the hand of the vc'iivoda and retired, 
saluting ns witli staid, solemn gestures. 

From the village to the camp at Grebzi 
there were yet two hours of vigorous 
climbing and sei-ambliug to be under- 
gone, and we made but a brief halt. 
The avant-coriricrs who had joined ns 
at Ombla had not halted at all, liut were 
now lost to sight beyond the jutting 
stones on the horizon. As we left the 
collection of niiseralile hovels villagers 
crowded on the steps of the viiivoda,, 
some proffering complaints that his men 
had robbed them of kids or goats ; others 
that lie did not make decisive move- 
ments enough ; yet others that he al- 
lowed strangers — alluding to us — to 
C(.<nie into the country and to discover his 
forces. To all these he replied by scorn- 
ful waves of the hand, or now and then 
by loud, imperious commands of silence. 
We soon left the grumblers behind, .md 
weie once more alone with tlie rocks. 

But presently, as the hour of sunset 
approached, we encoinitered large flocks 
of goats coming down from their dubious 
pastur.-ige of the day to their folds for the 
night. Sometimes the only practicable 
route was not large enough to i)ei'mit of 
the i)assage of our \y.ivty and a flock of 
goats also. A leader of the horned and 
bearded denizens of the mountains would 
eye us for a few moments, as if he con- 
tem|)lnted giving battle, but, after a sur- 
vey of our numbers, would turn back 
with an angry snort and a choleric stamp 
of his fore feet. More than once I climbed 
a high rock with a view of protecting 
myself from the possilile attacks of these 
wild goats, that rebel even against the 
rough mountaineers who own them. 

Night came suddenly. Tlie rocky 



().S2 F.rRol'E fX STORM AXD CALM. 

ways ln'cainc obseiu'e ; one l()(.)keil ii[i came a peculiar hail, a lon<i', low en-. In a 
in surprise to find the sky darkouiuo' moment it was repeated. Then i! was an- 
ahove him ; there seemed no slow, in- swered from our side, and also repeated, 
sidious approach of twilight, as in lower Presently, from the left, came a similar 
regions. We quickened our pace. The hail, similarly answered liv our men, 
l)ody-o-iiard scattered hither and yon, and who liad yone in that direction. In a 
n(.) longer chattered in the smoothly moment more the rocks all around us 
flowing Slavic. Our party, French, Ital- swarmed with armed men, who jumped 
ian, Kn.ssian, American, was oppressed down joyously, crying. •• Voivoda ! \'6i- 
and overwhelmed liy the coming dark- voda ! " Many of them crowded around 
ness. The rocks took on fantastic shapes : him, kissing his hands and the JK-m of 
a belated shepherd a little way off seemed his garment, while others entered into 
to us like a pinnacle overhanging the a noisy explanation of the events which 
narrow |)atli, and half-a-dozen [linnacles had occurred sinci' his tlcfiarture. Sooth- 
looked like JNIahomctaii soldiers wait- ing and quieting them as if they had been 
ing to lire upon us as we passed. We children, lu' led the way. calling us to 
<lescended into a valley, then wearily follow, across a terribly rugged iiatch of 
climbetl another ridge. Nowhere now locks a mile or two long, then down a 
was there visible a trei' or clunqi of fo- lane walled in on either side, and iutro- 
liage or minutest shrub; nowhere any- duced us without wa:-ning to one of the 
thing save rocks, — rocks on all sides, most nnicpie spectacles that my ej'es 
( )n the top of tile ridge the guards haltecl. have ever rested npon. 
One of them sat down and listeni'd in- The lane terminated abruptly on a 
teiitly. The voivoda, who now i)reeeded ledge from which we looked down into 
us, motioned us to halt. Paities of the a. cu|) set in the hills, and guarded on 
insuigents niovfd to th<' left and tile every band by a succession of rolling- 
right. At Last the voixdda seated him- valleys filled with jagged masses of stone, 
self on a convenient stone, and calling In this deep, cup-shaijed space a large 
to us, and pointing down into a second number of little cam|)-lires were burn- 
valley, now almost concealed in the lap- ing, and tlitting to ami fro among them 
idly deepening shadows, and then to the we could si'c stalwart men armed to the 
rugged ghostly hills beyond, he said, teeth. .V loud hum, the echo of the 
" Gentlemen, welcome to my domain ! iKii.sy conversation arounil the tires. 
You are in the Herzegovina." drift^-d up to our ears. Here and there. 

Nowhere was there sight or sound of where the tlame burned out brightly, we 
<-amp. The waste seemed luiteiiaiited. could see small, ugly, black cottages. 
Our hearts sank as we imaginetl a long Away off among the rocks we heard 
night-journey to the village among the the monotonous refrain of a song, doubt- 
rocks. We rose with the energy of de- less sung by some warrior, who in lialt- 
spair when the voivoda invited us to con- ing rhythm was celelirating his exploits 
tiniie the route to Grebzi. Where were of the past week or of the day. 
the insurgent forces? The transition from the solemn and 

AVe began to descend into the valley, awful calm of the Ilerzegovinan high- 
Here there was a narrow path of smooth lands — the calm whiili we had felt w ith 
stones. V/e had gone but a few steps such territic force just as the curtain of 
when from the fiosom of the rocks there darkness was fiiiallv drawn — to this half- 



EUROPE IX fITORM AND CALM. 



r,«3 



joyous, half-savage vivacity of the camp 
and the viUage, was almost repulsive. 
There seemed somethiug weird, super- 
natural in it. We dreaded to go down, 
lest we might find tliat we had ventured 
upon a Walpurgis Night, or some dread- 
ful assemljlage of sorcerers from lielow. 
There was, however, just at this moment 
a smart commotion in the camp: hasty 
words were heard : tiiere was a rattle 
of arms ; men ran to and fro ; and a few 
careless shots were fired. 

" What is it. Tomo? "' we asked of the 
guide. 

" It is the voivoda's arrival." he said. 
" Probably some one on an out-of-the- 
way peak saw us coming, and rushed in 
to give an alarm, thinking it might be 
the enemy ; but now our men have ar- 
rived and the mistake is corrected, and 
we shall all be welcome. You will see ;" 
and Tonio bristled with pride and stroked 
his long black mustaches. 

We did see. The vciivoda si)rang 
lightly down from the ledge, — -it seemed 
as if he were leaping from a higii jircci- 
pice into an abyss. — but he landed safely 
on a rock below, then upon another, and 
we followed him. 'J'omo shouted to us 
to keep in the backgronnd till he came, 
as strange faces might not please some 
of the more ignorant of the insni'gents : 
but our curiosity sjiurred us on, and 
we strode along a narrow village street, 
flanked on either side by one-story stone 
hovels. Suddenly a torch flared up, and 
a group of noble and impressive-looking 
men approached. The vciivoda hastened 
toward the elder and graver of the two 
foremost, and the pair embraced, kiss- 
ing each other repeatedly. He then 
gave the same affectionate greeting to 
all the others, and. after some hurried 
conversation, introduced us to Peko 
Pavlovic, the a-enowned and terrible 
slaver of Turks, and director of the 



movements of a lai'ge part of the 
forces. 

The first instinctive movement, on 
hearing Peko's name, was one of repul- 
sion, for he had been described to us, 
even by his ardent admirers, as a demon 
incarnate, a species of Hans of Iceland, 
breathing out slaughter, delighting in the 
mutilation of the bodies of his victims, 
and cherishing the most fiendish malice. 
In the early days of the insurrection Peko 
had established at Slivnitza — a camp 
not far from Greljzi — -a '•reliiiuary." 
whei'c the heads of Turks slain in battle 
were kei)t as ghastly trophies. A young 
Russian otfleer informed me that he had 
visited this reliquary, and that Peko ex- 
hibited to him with the greatest pride the 
corpse of a Turkish ofHcer, which had 
been carried away from some skirmish- 
field, and was kept there that the insur- 
gents might gloat over the corrujition of 
their enemy's body. 

A moment after we had looked on Peko 
our repulsion had vanished. He is a 
nobly formed Montenegrin of the heroic 
type, pretty well past the flower of his 
middle life. His face is as clearlj' cut as 
that of a handsome woman ; his brows 
shade a pair of deep, sombre eyes, with 
nothing whatever murderous in their 
glance. His thin lii)s are shaded by a 
broad black mustache; his massive 
chin, his square jaw, give evidence of 
strengtii of will and character. His 
mighty chest was sheathed in a silver 
jacket of mail, the front of whicii was 
very elaborately ornamented. This bit 
of medieval splendor, of which most 
of the Montenegrin chiefs are very fond, 
nuist iiave cost Peko a pretty penny. To 
descrilie his weapons would be merely to 
puzzle the reader ; sullice it to say that 
in his girdle he wore nearly a dozen 
small-arms, and that on the march he 
invariablv carries a rifle, which he uses 



()S4 EVROT E IX s-rnR.u Axn cir.M. 

iincii'ingly. Peko has nil the liclittiiiii' most l'orciliU> liuman expressions of 

qualitii's of a chief save edm-atidii : lie the foiir-hiiiulred-year period of hate 

is ijiiioraut, and the \('ii\oda, altliou;j,li of the ]\li)ntenegrin for the Turk that 

less versed than Peko in the seienee of I have ever seen, lie has oiven his 

nioiintain waifare, has freiiuently saved whole bodv and soul to the task of driv- 

hini from liliniders into which he wonld in*; the Moslems from the countries 

have nishe<l, coniproniising tlie whdle which they have so loiii; oppressed, and 

insuirection in the eyes of neighboring he will labor mercilessly to that end 

nations. Wlien the voivoda lirst came until his dving day. 

from Belgrade to Ilerzegoviua to start Peko and his fellow-chiefs, Ilerzewo- 
the rebellion against the Turks, Peko vinan and Montenegrin, greeted us 
was seut out by the Prince of Mon- kindly. Luca Petcovic, one of the most 
tenegro to check him, and to warn him noted of I he elder chieftains, was absent, 
that the time was not yet. Peko met but tliere were t>thers whose scars and 
Ljuliibratic, and told him his mission ; the renown of whose exploits entitled 
but the voivoda would not listen to |icr- them to notice, who wandered with us 
suasion. I'lion this Vvko seized Ljubi- about the camp, ex|ilaiiiing, through tlie 
bratic, liad him bound iiaiid and foot jovous and willing Tomo. ever\thing 
and eon\i yed to the frontier, and he which we did not understand. .\s it 
wuit to see that the order.-, were obeyed, was not thought wise to attempt an ex- 
Put on the way to the Austrian bor<ler planation of llu' mission eif journalists 
Ljubibratic succeeded in persuading Peko to the common soldiers we were intro- 
that the insuirection in Herzegovina duced to the group as genilemen wdio 
was ripe and should be begmi, and that had come to inspect tlie " Italian squad- 
tlie Prince of Jlontenegro ought to be ron," which was [iroving itself a in:ist 
pri'vailcd u|ion to aid it, at least tacitly, ctlicient aid to the insurrection ; and uu- 
Peko atouce ordered the voivoda's bauds der these borrowed colors we .succeeded 
to be unloosed, returned with him to a in obtaining a cordial welcome from every 
camp, joined the insurgents, and ac- one. The warriors left otf their whining, 
knowledged his late prisoner as his com- monotonous chants as we approached, 
niauder-in-chief. Since that time he had and rose to greet us courteously. Two 
implicitly followed the lead of the viii- men were, despatched to a spring, which 
voda in general matters, venturing only was a long distance from the eami), for 
now and then to differ in regard to the water, which they transport in these 
conduct of an expedition or the treat- mountain regions in |.iig-skiiis. as thev 
luent of a caiitured enemy. do also in S|.)ain ; and two or three other 
Peko is still a force in Herzegovina stout fellows, having shinghtered a 
against the Turks. He rushes down shee)) and dressed it, s|iitted the animal 
from the mountains with a little l>aiid on an old satire, and were soon roasting 
and annihilates a couveiy, beheads it whole before a cheerful lire. Having 
an aga or a bey, or throws half-a- no longer any legs to stand on. we sank 
dozen soldiers over a precipice, iK'foie down, a tired and demoralized group, 
the astonished Moslems can say a upon some rocks near the hut in which 
prayer. He kills with frenzy, but the Italians were (piartered, and watched 
behind all his apparent barbarity there the warri.jrs as they came and went, or as 
is a fixed motive. He is one of the they stood in<lolentlv smoking tlieir long 



EUIWPK IX STOR^r AXD CALM. 



685 



pilics ami listouiiig in a hair-siib|)i<-i(ius, 
half-aimiscd maiiiKT to the jargon of 
English, French, and Italian which 
echoed from our party. 

Nol)lc men phj'sically, tlicse warriors, 
— the liest products of Herzegovina; 
yet men so abased liy centuries of op- 
pression that they were liopelessly igno- 
rant, and were l)ringing up tlieir cliildren 
in ignorance. Shapely, cleanly men, of 
fine instincts, one would say; no low 
cunning in theirfaces ; not men to knoclc 
a traveller on tlie head, lil<e a Sicilian 
or Corsican mountaineer, lint men who 
needed only a chance at <levelo[iment to 
improve it. Thi'y had sent all their 
wives and cliildren over the Austiian 
horder, where tlicy would lie safe from 
the murderous vengeance of the Turks 
and of those fanatical Slavs wlio long 
ago renounced the Christian religion fin' 
Mohammedanism ; and they felt free to 
liiiiit. Mv heart went out to these down- 
trodden, misunderstood ■• raytdis," — 
these men who might at any time lie 
liampered in their struggles for freedom 
liy the intrigues of greater nations near 
them, — these men who followed so will- 
inglv and obeved so implicitly their 
voivoda, and who looked upon him as a 
demi-god. 

Not a house in this village camp of 
Grebzl had a chimney ; the two or tlnce 
hovels into which we ventnreil were so 
filled with smoke from the fires on the 
hearths that we were compelled to re- 
treat. The furniture was of the simplest 
descriiition. There were no beds, but 
low stone couches, like those one sees in 
houses in Pompeii ; on these straw and 
blankets were spread. Chairs, tables, 
and such luxuries evidently had never 
been heard of at Grclizi. It was a mis- 
erable little village, forlorn, in the crags. 
Before the women and children, who cul- 
tivate the fields, had fled, it might have 



been jnst tolerable to look at; but even 
then it must have appeared barbarous. 
We were lodged that night in a house 
which, as the voivoda assuied us with a 
smile, was once the home of a wealthy 
farmer. It consisted of three rooms un- 
der one thatched roof. Two of the rooms 
were perhaps half a story higher thau 
the third, and in those we slept. The 
imier one resemljled a cellar ; its floor 
of stone was littered with straw ; light was 
admitted through two small apertures in 
an immensely thick wall, and the door 
was scarcely high enough to admit any 
oni' of US. In the outer room a fire 
smouldered on the hearth, ami the smoke 
wandered into every C(U-ncr. A few 
wooden bowls, trenehers, one or two rude 
knives, an iron wash-basin, and a camp- 
stool UKide in l\agusa, were the only 
ai-ticles of furniture we could discover. 
These had contented the wealthy farmer 
all his life, Tomo said with a grin, as he 
ai'ranucd our sleeping-room: why should 
we ask for more ? 

Before we retired to this abode of lux- 
ury the chiefs came iu friendliest fashion 
to sec us partake of the supper which 
had been pre|)ared for us. I was nnich 
nnnised at the manner in which the men 
who were delegated to serve us managed 
tln'ir a[)ologies for a lack of numerous 
necessary articles, such as salt, bread, 
etc. Each of them would a|)proach the 
voivoda respectfully and demand per- 
mission to whisper in his car. He would 
then very privately communicate his in- 
telligence to the vuivoda, who in his turn 
would inform us that there was no salt 
or bread to lie had. Thereupon, our 
cooks, with a bow to us, would withdraw 
with a contented air, as a good house- 
wife does in America after she has ma- 
ligned her own cookery in the pi'rsi'nce 
of her guests, and given a hundred 
reasons why it is woise than usual. 



ri8*> KTROPK /X STORM AXD CALM. 

We were too wi'iu'v to oat niueli. Imt mxiii tliuir toik'ts ; upon the lireasts of 

we drank refresliing drauglits of the cool I'l'ko and ono oi' two of his companions 

water, and made our way speedily to tlie Russian medals flittered. The sun's 

cellar-room, where we hiy down ui)ou rays threw a halo around the picturesque 

the straw with Tomo as guard in front little grou]), and for a moment the sheen 

of the door, stretched out with his head of tiie weapons worn by all was dazzling, 

in the smoke. The arrival of a Turkish The voivoda, iu his green tunic, and with 

battalion could hardly have succeeded his line head bared to the morning breeze, 

in awakening us, and the innumerable was a noble figure. Each chief as he 

wood-lice and l>ugs native to the locality delivered his oiiinion stflod up in the 

only did it once. middle of the circle and spoke in low, 

It was dawn at three o'clock. Tomo, solemn tones, sometimes gravely ges- 

bnilding the fire, aroused us. In a few ticulating with his pipe. Only one or 

minutes he brought us cups of hot, fra- tvvo of the men showed signs of anger 

grant coffee, made in the Tiu-kish fash- or excitement, and that was when they 

ion. We seemed endowed with new pointed lo the mountain ridge beyond 

strength : our fatigues of yesterday were which the Turks were encanipetl iu their 

forgotti'u. The cool air rushing iu fortresses. 

through the stone aperture which served The tnenty-rivc hundretl insurgents 
for a window was ins[)iring. In an hour were busy polishing their arms, i)repar- 
more the camp was astir. Warriors who ing their colfee, — which appt'ared to lie 
had sung [lersistently until the small the only breukfa.st that they took, — and 
hours a|)peared fresh and prepared for singing, or rather crooning, their uionot- 
war. We went down into the streets or oiious melodies. A small party was de- 
lanes, and soon met the voivoda walk- tailed to cross the Austrian frontier and 
ing leisurely to and fro, with his hands ileseend to the town of Kagusa for the 
clasped behind him. '-The council of bread, furnished by an " insurrectionary 
war is called for six o'clock," he said, committee" composed of sympathetic 
"and you must see it. Only, iii'ay ilo not Slavs, whose breach of neutrality was 
come too near to it, as some chief might winked at by the Austrian government, 
fancv his sense of dignity offended." Toward seven o'clock the sentries who 

We iiroraised, and at six, as the hills had l>een watching all night on the peaks 

all around resounded to the pipes of the round about the camp came in weary 

she|ihei(ls who were leading their flocks .and famislieil with hunger, and reported 

of u(i:its to their favorite [lasturage. we '.hat they had h'ft others in their places, 

climbed to a little eminence where grew As soon as the council liroke up, huu- 

some grass and a few stunted trees, dreds of men pressed about the chiefs, 

There a dozen chiefs were seated in a anxious to learn Iheir decision ; and a 

circle, with the voivoda in the centre, joyous shout, which woukl not have lieeu 

Theii- gravity was as stern and unrelent- at all relished by tlie Tuiks had they 

ing as tliat nf our Indians. jSIosI of the heard it, amiouiieed that another march 

miai wia'e smoking, but the Ilerzegovi- and an offensive movement had been 

nan rarely lays aside his pipe save when resolved u|ion. 

he sleeps or fights. It is second nature Then came the gathering of the com- 

to him to smoke. The IMontenegrin jianies. Tlu-ri' was no pretence at a for- 

cliiefs had bestowed some little attention mal review: the nature of the ground 



EUnorE TN STORM AND CALM. 



(387 



would nut iiave permitted it, and tlie 
men were hardly well enough disciplined 
for it. They needed no training : they 
followed their leaders blindly, and fought 
desperately, in the Herzegoviniui fash- 
ion, from behind the rocks and ledges, 
as long as their ammunition lasted, and 
then they retreated. The voivoda passed 
from group to group of the insurgents, 
taikiug cheerfully and familiarly with 
all ; then he dismissed them with a wave 
of his hands, and turned to us, saying, 
" These men will march all through to- 
night, fight all day to-morrow, clamber 
among the rocks for hours after the bat- 
tle, and will go without food and water 
for twenty-four hours at a time. If they 
but had modern guns and (ilenty of am- 
munition ! " 

The testimony of a yoimg French otli- 
eer who had joined tiie insurgent forces, 
and who was proving a very efficient aid 
to the voivoda, was that these men fought 
well, and even with skill, seeming by in- 
stinct to nnderstand many tilings in war- 
fare which men of other countries must 
learn. Every one of them had regis- 
tered a solemn vow that he wouW never 
quit the field until the Turks were driven 
from Herzegovina or he were dead ; 
and all have kept their word. The in- 
surrection became a war ; the voivoda 
was nnlnckily divested of his command 
l)y the tyraimical action of the Austrian 
government oHicials, who perluqis feared 
that the Slavs in Austrian territory 
might be urged to imprudent interven- 
tion in Turkish affairs by the influence 
of his splendid example ; but neither 
Peko nor any of the other chiefs, nor any 
humblest Herzegovinan, will ever forget 
that to the voivoda Ljubibratic, the lea<ler 
and master, was the first great movement 
for freedom in Herzegovina due. 

Noon came, and the insurgents pre- 
Ijared to break camp. We set out uiion 



our return journey. The viiivoda gave 
us an escort, and himself accompanied 
us to a point near the frontier. Leaning 
against a huge rock he talked for an 
hour in his grave, stern way of his hopes, 
his fears. Jus ambitions. For merciless 
war to the Turk he was fully inclined : he 
felt that he had men enough, but no 
proper arms, and but little moral support 
from the outside world. "We shall 
make no concessions," he said simply, 
'• and we will never lay down our arms." 
I am glad to note that the veteran Peko 
has carried out these principles to the 
letter. 

Ljubiliratie looked heroic, as he stood 
with his arms folded across his massive 
chest, and with his figure braced against 
the bowlder, which rose gigantic, casting 
a shadow over us all as we gazed ujiou 
liini. It was by no means an agreeable 
task for a man of his culture and breed- 
ing to go liack to daily association with 
and constant peril among the rough 
men in the camp ])ehind him, — to the 
petty dissensions of the eiiiefs and the 
squalid huts on the rocky hills, — liut he 
never wavered for an instant before that 
which he conceived to be his duty. It 
was evident that the men felt lost with- 
out his constant presence, for he had not 
been witli us long before little squads 
followed him from the village and tried 
in a hundred ways to attract his atten- 
tion. When his hour's talk was finished 
he saluted our whole party w-ith that dig- 
nified and fi'iendly kiss upon both cheeks 
which is so universal a form of salutation 
in Servia and in many of the adjacent 
provinces. We bade him good-V)v, and 
fell to scramliling Ragusa-ward over tiie 
rocks. At a descent in the path we 
turned, and saw him still standing with his 
eyes fixed upon us. He waved his hand ; 
we responded with shouts, then descended 
into the vallev. and saw him no more. 



688 ElROPE IX STORM AMJ VALJI. 



CII A PTER SEVENTY-KK ;r]T. 

Tlie Moiitcne^i'ins. — The Inlialiitants of tlie Black Mnuntniii. — An Um'on(]ucrcd Raco. — Amoni^ the 
liOfUs. — The Imiihicahlo EnL-mies of the Turk-; — A N'aUaut Little Army. — The Munteue<rriu 
"Women. — The ( Htl Prinee-Hi^hops of I\I<)ntene;;ro. 

I SAW my first ^loiittMU'oriii as I was ing ti'oiisei's ; on his feet were the 

h';i\i!io- the pretty port of SptUatro, ojKuikl^.s, or cowhide saiidtils, of his 

on thv' A(hiutio sea, for Ragusa in Dal- ntitive huiil, and on his lietid was the 

matin. I had l)een wandering for weeks ronnd eap with the red toj) whieh every 

among the warhke .Serl)s tmil Bosnians, Montenegrin seems to feel it his .sticred 

tilong the nol.ile rivers whieh divide Aiis- duty to uctir. Hut I looked in vtiin for 

tria from Turkey in Europe, and iiad any .symptoms of ferocity tjr of military 

seen mtiny line speeiinens of tiie Slavic fervor in this innocent child's face, over 

race, l>iit whenever I htid ventin'ed to which the .soft Adrititic l.ireezes played 

prtiise tlie manly (pnilitics which J htid tthiiost ctiressiugly. Was this, then, a 

so often observed, I was alwaysans>veied, repi-esent:itive of the dreaded mountain- 

" Yon have not seen the Montenegrins." eers whom the Tiuks feared as they 

It w;is true, and I was constrainetl to fear to lo.sc Taradise i of the people who 
siienc/e. Yet it did not seem to me thtit esteem most him who h:ts liejictidcd 
there could lie. even in the redoulittilile the greatest number of enemies in battle ; 
IMontencgro, the •' llhicli ."Mountain " of of the little band who fought the French 
wiiich such wondrous stories were told, so liereelv at the lieoinuiug of tliis ecu- 
men superior in strength of body, in tin-y, and whose descenilants have so 
svnuuetry ;ind .suppleues.s of limb, in often since mtidc the Mussuliuaiis lower 
heroism and patriotism combineil with their slandtirds on tlie plains of (JrtUiovo? 
stern ferocity tiiid sterling honesty of W:is this the type for which 1 liad been 
l(ur|iose, to my good friends of Serviti prepared by so intiny thrilling anecilotes 
and Ilosnia. I looked forwtird, howt'\ei', of heroic actions timong the crags tiiid 
to a great surprise some day, and had along the edges of the precipices in the 
awaited the appearance of thefa-st iNIon- 'rscrnagorti? I was about to tin-n away, 
tenegrin ty]ic willi impatient curiosity. incaeduloiisly smiling, when the boy, as 

When 1 saw this Ivpe I was f'oi- a if he were' conscious (.>f having bi'cn 

moment grievously disappointed, .lust keenly observed, tnrneil toward us htilf 

as the niiiKMl walls of Diocletian's palace di'lianth , :ind then for the liist tiuie 

were fading in tlic hori/.ou, tiiid oin- i noticed that the giiille whii/h he wore 

little steamer Avas nnining well out to .-ilioiit his wtiist wtis literally cranuncd 

sea, mj- altentioii uasenUeil b^■ufl■llort- witli wea|ions. An enormous yaltiglian. 

[lassenger lo a boy of Idurtecu or lifteen whose hdt was inernsted with silver, and 

who stood .■iinoiig the piMsauts and whii'h seemed loo l;irge for the lujy to 

soldiers on the lower deck. The Ijoy was swing unless he nscci b(jth lurnds, was 

dressed in a white tuinc and gray flow- the i)rouiinent object in this perambn- 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



689 



lating arsenal. CJrouped around it were 
two huge, ungainly pistols, each nearly 
as long as the yataghan, a dagger con- 
cealed in a sheath cuiiously inlaid with 
silver, and a knife such as every Dal- 
matian and Montenegrin invariably 
carries, finding it equally convenient to 
thrust into his enemy's heart ov to ent 
the pieces of roasted kid which he cats 
for his sup|)er. 

As the boy turned he instinctively 
placed one hand upon the hilt of his 
yataghan. The gesture ha<l nothing of 
menace in it, but it was a fitting revela- 
tion of the national characteristic. Alert, 
vigorous, shapely, keen, the young 
mountaineer's altitude at last excited 
ray admiration, and I finally accepted 
him as the type of his race, expect- 
ing nevertheless soon to encounter speci- 
mens more in accordance with my earliest 
ideal 

During the two daj's' voj'age which 
followed ray companion entered into the 
good gi-aces of the young Montenegrin, 
and found that this sublime boy wms 
already a noted warrior ; that he had 
left his native jteaks and rocks l)ccanse 
he wished to aid the Christians in Bosnia 
against the Turks, and, having fought 
well there, had been sent on a mission to 
Trieste, whence he was then returning. 
What was his mission? Ah, that was a 
secret ! He shook his head and looked 
fierce when some one suggested that he 
had been sent to buy arms for the Iler- 
zegovinan insurgents. Once he smiled 
scornfully, and then he said in a quick, 
fierce tone, "When we want arms we 
take them from the Turks." History 
certainly confirms this assertion. In 
1858, during some of the many disputes 
between Turkey and Montenegro, the 
Montcuegiins fell upiju an invading 
army vastly superior in numbers to their 
own and disarmed it. A few weeks later 



an Austrian officer who had visited the 
Pilack Mountain announced that he had 
seen two thousand two hundred and 
thirty-seven skeletons of Turkish soldiers 
on the field where this " disarmament " 
occurred. 

lie who wanders among the rocks of 
Montenegro readily understands the char- 
acter of the people. The little prin- 








MONTEM'.trRINS 



ON THE WATCH. 



cipality has withotit doubt a more re- 
markable situation than any other country 
in the world. Travellers who have looked 
down upon it from the summit of j\It. 
Lovchen, its dominating peak, say that 
it resembles an immense petrified sea. 
As far as the eye can reach in any direc- 
tion nothing is to be seen but vast stony 
waves and wrinkles in the black surface 
of the rocks, — waves and w rinkles 
which, if one were close to them, would 
prove gigantic precipices, yawning 
chasms, valleys deep and sheltered, in 
which a few hardy Montenegrin women 
watch the goats and sheep cropi)ing the 



GIIO 



F.VROVK JX SrORM AXD CALM. 



sliorl ijras.scs niiioiiLj the stuiK's. In this 
lU'liriiius .soiitliciii rliiniite tlie rloiulk'ss 
hliu' sky ill Miiinuor arflu's tciiiUTly 
rtliovc these frowiiiiiji :iiul lerrilile rocks, 
these colossal walls, and (iiie is led to 
Wonder uliy, instead of tliis o|i|)ressive 
and a|)|ialliiii>; desolation, lie does not 
see liinidieds (.f rich vineyards witli 
their |)iir|iHiii;' fruits lileaniiiiy,' in the sun, 
or groves of olixes. (ir lawns watered liy 
|)ietiiresi|ue livers, nishint!; seaward Jtast 
Howcr-strewn banks, lint the Montene- 
Ljrin never asks himself these (luestions. 
Horn anioii^;- tlu' rocks, lie loves thcni, 
and would on no conditions exchaiiiic 
them I'or the [ileasiires of fertile valleys 
or fruitful hill-sides. He loves to cele- 
brate in his songs the charms of tlie 
[latlis along the dizzy emiiienct's where 
he only can tread freely; he comiiaies 
himself to the falcon ; he is in his glory 
when his province is invach'il, and he is 
at liberty to fight fi'om rock to rock, to 
lie in wait for hours behind piles of 
stones, to lea}) exultant into the M-ry 
midst of his foes, lirandishiiig his sword, 
and slionting " Glory to the peoi)le ! " 

The frontiers of Montenegro have 
always been nncertain. For sevi^ral 
centuries the territory has vaiie<l in ex- 
tent according to its fortunes in war. 
Never for a moment owning the doniina- 
fiou of the Turks, its i)eople have been 
constantly embroiled with them, and 
have kept such frontiers as tliey chose 
to estalilisli as long as they could by 
force of arms. From time to time the 
Turks have succeeded in forcing their 
way in : then the Montenegrins have 
risen and reasserted their rights by 
driving out the enemy, and liy cutting 
off the heads of all Turks left on the 
battle-lield. The JMontenegriu was and 
is cradle(l to the sound of songs wliit'h 
tell him to hate the Turk and to kill him 
wheiie\er and wherever he may meet 



him. The struggle, the hatred, was 
never greater than now, nor was Monte- 
negro ever liolder, for behind her stands 
a power whoso ])rndeiice in aiding her 
;igainst the 'I'urk is only exceeded by its 
lirmness and the immensity of its re- 
sources, — a [lower that is feared in 
Turkey, formidalile and detia-niincl in 
Russia. 

Bosnia. Ilerzegdviua. and Montene- 
gro all formed a part of the ancient 
country of the Dalmatians, which was 
united 1o the lioman t'liipire under Tibe- 
rius. These various territories were 
settled, t(,)ward the middle of the seventh 
century, by the Slavic tribes which 
came from beyond the Cariiatliiaii moun- 
tains. Had these tribes been united 
pernianeiitly, they would to-day have 
formed one of tlie most powerful nations 
in Enroiie. But np to the date of the 
Ottoman conquest they were generally 
seiiarate and distinct. Bosnia was ruled 
liy kings, Herzegovina by dukes, and 
IMoiitenegro by vhulikas, or priiice- 
liisliops. The iieo|ile of each province 
dill di'cds of valor, but all save Monte- 
negro succumbed liefore tlie fury of the 
Ottoman sword. Tlie mountaineers have 
fin' four hundred and fifty years kept the 
Turk at luiy, although he has succeeded 
in maintaining a foothold in every one 
of thi'ir kindred provinces exce|it Dal- 
iiiatia, which is protected by the Austrian 
tlag. 

Montenegro is bounded on the north 
and nortli-west liy Herzegovina, on the 
north-east and east by Bosnia, and on 
the south-east and east by Albania, 
and on the sonth-west by Dalmatia. In 
form its boundaries are not unlike a 
rudely shaped star. It had no outlet 
upon the Adriatic sea until after the 
Knsso-Turkish war, since tlie Austrians 
held the Jiort of t'attaro, one of the 
loveliest spots in Southern Europe, 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



691 



which would h:ive lieeii the most pnicti- 
Ciihle port for the Moutenegi-iiis ; and 
Diileigiio, the next best, was in the i)os- 
session of Turkey. Tiie hitter town, with 
its surrounding district, was sui'rendered 
to Montenegro under pressure of tlie 
great powers, in 1880. Tlie pi'in<-iiial 
route to its capital among the rocl<s and 
crags, and arrived at only b}' the paths 
through seemingly inaccessible moun- 
tains, leads from Cattaro, which the 
traveller may reach by steamer from 
Trieste in a little more tlian four days. 
One's first impression on gazing at the 
rocks around Cattaro is that he is dream- 
ing. Everything seems fantastic, nn- 
real, stagey ; one is reminded of a fairy 
scene in a spectacle at a theatre. The 
Dalmatian coast, wilii its vast crags 
towering skyward, touched here and there 
with white, whicli contrasts admirably 
with their arid, reddish garli of stone, 
does not prepare one for the wonders 
into whose presence he is ushered at the 
" Bocca cli Cattaro." 

The name Montenegro, according to 
that amiable patrician of Cattaro, Mari- 
ano Bolizza, who ex|ilored the country at 
the beginning of the seventeenth century, 
and made a report upon it to the ^'ene- 
tian repul)lic, was given to this section 
by the Turks, because its gloomy re- 
cesses were associated in their minds 
with so many attacks from enemies 
whom they could never see or seize. 
Whoever gave the land the name, its 
;il)propriateness cannot be questioned. 
"When the traveller crosses the lake of 
Sentari, in Albania, and sees before him 
iin impenetrable amphitheatre of moun- 
tains clad in most sombre colors, of 
rocky surfaces filled with an innnite 
number of recesses where the shadows 
gather, and of uplands covered in sum- 
mer with thick but dark foliage, and in 
winter with nothing save the blackened 



skeletons of boughs, he will strive in 
vain to discover a better ap|)cllation for 
such a panorama than Montenegro. 

The popultUion of this little princi- 
jiality is barely one hundred and ninety 
thousand ; and fully one-third of the men 
are nearly always absent from home, 
engaged in warlike expeditions. The 
Montenegrins welcomed the Herzego- 
vinan insurrection with joy, because it 
gave them a new chance to fight and to 
kill Turks. They could hardly persuade 
themselves to obey the injunction which 
their prince was compelled to serve 
upon them, not to aid the insurrection 
by organized action in large liodies. 
They vanished across the frontier two by 
two, and found their way into the various 
head-quarters of the insurgent chiefs, 
where tiiey were received as men who 
would never yield to the Turk nor listen 
to his promises. So inflamed with rage 
against the Moslems are the Montene- 
grins of late years that they cannot even 
hear the latter mentioned without grasp- 
ing their weapons convulsively. At the 
battle near Utow'O, in tlie autumn of 
187.') these fiery mountaineers broke 
ranks and rushed with drawn knives 
upon the battalions of Turks. Nothing 
could withstand them, and the Turks, 
throwing away their guns, tied as if the 
foul fiend were after them. 

The country is divided into provinces, 
or natrie, as they are culled, four be- 
longing to Montenegro proper, and four 
to the Berda, the name given to the moun- 
tainous district in the interior. Each 
of these provinces is subdivided into 
ph'Mena, which correspond to the can- 
tons of Switzerland, and the plemena 
are divided into villages. Every prov- 
ince has a distinctly marked tyi)e of 
inhabitant; (leople who live but a few 
miles apart are radically dissimilar in 
temperament, in stature, and in methods 



692 



EUROPE L\ STORM A\D CALM. 



of thouiilit ; ;ui(l this is tlii' most furious 
of tlio nuuiy lu'culiaritii-s of Montonogro. 
Tiu' tiuest tyi><-' of tiie niountaiueer and 
warrior is tlio iiiau sis feet tall, with 
grave, thou<;htful face, which contrasts 
singularly with his (juick, nervous gait. 
He generally lias high cheek-bones, like 
an Indian ; his eye is l)lack and pierc- 
ing; his lips are shaded by a square 
black mustache ; there is a slight stoop 
in his slKJuldcrs, accounted for by the 
fact that he is constantly bending for- 
ward as he ascends dillicult heights ; 
his feet are huge, flat, and ungiacefid, 
made for the solid l)usiness of grip|)ing 
the rocks and clinging to them. Tlie 
Montenegrin of every type is by no 
means devoid of tact; he is artl'id in 
dece[ition when dealing with an enemy ; 
fond of aml)Usli and stratagem ; cruel, 
sanguinary, and unai)|ieasable in re- 
venge ; enthusiastic in his friendships ; 
not given to sudden anger, but slow to 
repent of wrath, even though he may be 
in tlie wrong. lie is proljably the most 
agile human Ijeing on the soil of 
Europe. lie can go anywhere that tlie 
chamois <'an. The goats sometimes 
hesitate to follow their [Montenegrin 
shepherds when tliere is a dangerous 
pass to be crossed. Every inhabitant 
of the [irincipality, man, woman, or 
child, |iossesses the most extraordinary 
[Kiwer of enduring hunger and thirst. 
The men will mai-eh for days among tlie 
rocks, eating nothing l.mt coarse bread 
made from liitter roots, and now and 
then (U'scending into tlie valleys to taste 
the bra<-kisli water in the [lools. lie 
who cannot endure tremendous fatigue 
is looked upon as worthless in iMontene- 
gro : the women frown upon him. and 
his fellow-men abhor him. During the 
last centuiv the warriors now and then 
degeiieiatccl into banditti, and some- 
times made tierce raids along the fron- 



tiers ; but this practice was so sternly 
rebuked in ITKd by one of their rulers 
that it has now (juite fallen into decay. 
The Turks are molested by their warlike 
neighbors only on occasions when some 
new broil between the two nationalities 
has occurred. There is a dct'p leligious 
feeling among all I'lasses ; even the 
rudest warrior, when he arrives on the 
hills from which he can look down to 
the monastery at Tsettiiije, will dotf his 
ca|) and with l)ared head will murmur 
a. prayer. In the insurgent camp in 
Herzegovina I frequently saw !\lonte- 
grius who were kiKnvn to be extremely 
cruel in battle entering a wayside cot- 
tage with the |)eaceful salutation of 
'• <<od be with you ! " or with the words, 
"By my God, by thy (iod!" The 
effusive .Slavic manners (irevail among 
these rough men. They kiss when they 
meet and [lart ; they hold each other 
clasped in fast embrace for a moment, 
then they separate gravely and deco- 
rously. The stranger among tlu'iu is 
treated with the same cordiality, unless 
he manifest a disposition to resent it. 

The IMouteuegrins have fretpiently 
been accused of slavery to superstition ; 
but this is a slander. There are some 
few remnants of superstitious practices 
among them, but these are fast fading 
out. They are far too healthy and vig- 
orous beings to become the [irey of any 
absurdities. Their liearing is w(jnder- 
fully fine ; their sight is so acute that one 
fancies them boasting when they tell him 
how far they can see. Their accuracy 
of aim is remarkable. During the insur- 
rection of 18<H) the Austrian soldiers 
attempted to coerce some of the moun- 
taineers near C'attaro into obedience to 
the conscriiition laws. The riflemen of the 
insurgents shot into the loop-holes of a 
fortress which they were besieging, and 
did it with such precision that no Aus- 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



693 



trian soldier could iiiaiiitaiii his position 
near the embrasures. The Moiiteugriii 
rarely misses his aim, and when lie does 
he considers it a personal dishonor, wiiieh 
can only be wiped out by some gh^rions 
deed. 

The popes or priests of the Cireek 
Church, to which the Monteneiirins ad- 
iiere, are fully as warlike as tlieir pa- 
rishioners. Half a dozen of them are 
l)roniiiient among the leaders in the ller- 
zego\ inan insurrection. They rejoice 
in the deeds which one would imagine 
their religion would compel tiiem to re- 
prove. At night they gathei" around 
them the young and old men, and with 
musical voices, although to a monotonous 
chant, they recite the valorous deeds of 
their ancestors, and do not forget thos(> 
which they have done themselves. They 
h>ve to point to the trophies which they 
have taken from the dead liodies of their 
enemies, and to recount tiie slaughter 
necessary to secure them. At Tsettinje 
there is a i)riest who was a brave guerilla 
chieftain in one of the recent wars. 
Many a Turk has he sent to t'.ie otln'r 
world ; and he is very proud of it. On 
the breast of his robe are sewn a dozen 
decorations which lie has received for 
deeds of valor. Nothing is more com- 
mon tiian to see a child of twelve or 
thirteen who has already been in a 
dozen battles, and who bears as many 
scars on his body. 

The Ibrmation of a regular military 
system in Montenegro has lieen of great 
service in preventing many jealousies 
and avoiding numerous liloody feuds. 
There are at present two strong divisions 
of ten thousand men, each under tlie 
command of the prince, and arnieil with 
excellent modern weapons. In tiiis val- 
iant little body there is a cliance fijr jiro- 
raotion, and the genius and skill which 
have hitherto been waste<l in desultory 



warfare are concentrated. Tlie army 
has a general-in-chief, known as the voi- 
voda, and other voivodas hold ranks cor- 
responding to those of division and briga- 
dier generals. The Montenegrin woman 
is in many respects an object of pity to 
the travellei's who pass through the 
strange little principality ; but there is no 
woman in the country who would not be 
grievously offended at any show of sym- 
path}'. To work incessantly and to suf- 
fer is the destiny of the women of this 
race. They are not even welcomed into 
the world : a Montenegrin father, when 
asked by his neighbor w hat the sex of 
iiis new-born child is, answers, " God 
pardon me! it is a girl;"' sometimes he 
says, " It is a seriient," which is a poeti- 
cal manner of expressing his I'egret at 
the birth of a daughter. The girl grows 
up neglected, and often cursed ; she 
carries fagots of wood on her lie.ad, in 
order that she may earn a few coins wiih 
wliich U> buv arms for her lirothers. 
She has no youth ; at twentA'-tive she 
seems already old. She is married 
young, and liears and cares foi' h;'r chil- 
dren while supporting labor in the fields 
which would be hard even for strong 
men. She trembles before her father, 
her brother, her husband; she only 
awakens to freedom and independence of 
action when excited by the noise of the 
combat, to which she frequently follows 
the warriors. She urges them (ju, and 
loads their guns, and dresses their 
wounds. The Montenegrin woman is 
rarely beautiful of feature, .'ind the coarse 
work which she jierforms soon ruins her 
form. Her virtue is beyond reproach ; 
intrigues are unknown in Jlontcncgro, 
and gallantry wouhl find a sharp reproof 
at the point of a yataghan. The women 
wander unattended nherever I hey please 
throughout the country; for wliile a 
Montenegrin warrior would never tliink 



(;94 



EURCirE IX STORM AXD CALJf. 



of relieving :i woinau IVoin the lic;i\y 
burden of fagots or provisions wbicii slu' 
may be fainting uniliT. and while lie may. 
perhaiis, rail at her fcir her weakness, h<' 
■would not by W(ii'<l or deed offer her 
the slightest insult. The woman is 
almost servih' wifli regard to her hus- 
band ; if she sees him coming along the 
road, she turns off, or passes him raiiidly, 
that he may not be compelled to recog- 
nize her. ShouM the warrior be seen 
wasting liis lime in loitering by bis wih^'s 
side, he would be sulijeeted to reproach 
from the ehlers in the village. A fiw 
years since one could not have found 
in the whole of Montenegro one woman 
knowing how to read or write ; latterly 
some few schools, to which women have 
access, have been establisheil. 

The duties of hosintality all fall upon 
the woman. It is she who unlaces the 
boots of the stranger when he arrives, 
and who washes his feet, who serves at 
the talile, and holds the tlaming iiine- 
knot by which the others see to eat. 
The husband does not even notice his 
wife, unless it be to re(|Uest some menial 
service of her. 

It is ,a wouiler ^Montenegrin baliit's 
ever livi' through the severe course of 
swaddling which tln-y undergo from their 
earliest day until they are weaned. Tliey 
are strai>p<Ml to boaids and slung over 
the backs of their mothers, and thus, 
winter and snunuer, they make long 
journeys in the mounlaius and among 
the rocks. 

When the hu^baml falls ill it is not the 
wife who cares for him, but his parents. 
Etiquette demands that the wife should 
appear indifferent to his condition, and 
should atteu<l to her duties in house and 
Held as if he wei'e in no danger. ]'>ut 
when he dies she is expected to burst 
into loud himeutatious, and in all the 
country roniul sing the praises of ins 



Couragi' and his prowess in front of the 
enemy. 

This overworked and much-abused 
creature has one gracious aceomi)lish- 
ment : the Montenegrin woman is ex- 
ceedingly ex|iert in emliroideries, and 
thcv are a prominent feature of the 
national costume. The women work at 
them when they are walking along the 
roads bearing upon their heads burdens 
which seem heavy enough ti.i eru^li a 
pack-horse. 

White is the national color, and the 
very height of IMontenegrin clegauee is 
a white tunic embroidered with gold. A 
garment of this kind sometimes costs 
more than $3(1(1. The ordinary costume 
of the warrior consists of a tunic de- 
scending to the knee and confined at the 
w:iist by a girdle ; a huge waistcoat, the 
to|) of which shows above the loose 
tunic, ami is generally embroidered in 
gold or studded with precious stones; 
and trouseis of tlii" Turkish pattern, 
made of blue cloth, and knotted below 
the knees by garters. 

The [irince and one or two other higli 
dignitaries wear a cloak of red cloth, 
very rich and graceful, over all the other 
garments, lively warrior w'ears a small 
girdle, called tlie k-nlini. wdhch is madi' 
of li-atln'r or leil morocco, and is di\ ided 
info (Miuipai Iments intended for [)istols, 
<laggers, and yataghan. Every boy 
wears one from earliest childhood, but 
until he can Ite trusted with a pistol is 
allowed to carry only such iimocent ])lay- 
Ihiuijs as a dagger and small sword. 
The straiil'd is a garment common too 
both sexes. It is a broad and long 
woollen scarf with tasselled ends, some- 
what i-csembliug the blaidcet worn in 
Southern S|)aiu, and is woven by the old 
women who <-au no longer bring wood 
IVoiu ilie mountains. This blanket is the 
Monteueurin's only protection from wind 



EUROPE IX STOR.U AXD CAL.V. 



61)5 



or rain or biting cold ; and a Ideal prov- 
erb says, " Rain or sbine, take yonr 
atronku witli vou : you can sleep tnider 
it or on it." The opank(>. or hide slip- 
per, which the mountaineers, men and 
women, wear, is cluinsy in shape, but 
wonderfully convenient for roek-elimb- 
iu"'. The Austrian soldiers in the moun- 
tains near C'attaro endeavored to adopt 
tile o/ianh'^s for chasing insurgents, but 
they discovered that it requires long 
practice to learn how to walk in them. 
They are tied on with a multitude of 
strings, and it is a work of art to learn 
how to slip them off speedily. 

The costume of the women is not mi- 
graceful. TJie chief article is the koref, 
a long basque without sleeves, which 
descends to the knee. If the fiimily be 
rich, I his gown is sometimes embroid- 
ered with costly stuffs. But, whether 
a woman be rich or poor, she usually 
wears an ai)ron made of siljv or of some 
glistening material, and an ample girdle 
surmounted with an object very niueii 
like an enormous door-plate. Into this 
girdle she thrusts all her sewing mate- 
rials, her dagger, her jewels, and such 
of her bioideries as she does not wish 
for the moment to display. Until the 
day of their marriage the women wear 
round caps exactly lilve those worn by 
the men. From that moment they always 
appear iu public wearing the inuraina. a 
vast kerchief of silk or wool, wliich 
completely conceals their hair and falls 
down to the waist, covering the shoul- 
ders and giving the wearer the look of 
a nun. 

The /,((/)((, which the male Montene- 
grin wears as his head covering, has its 
legend, poetic and sanguinary. The 
warrior says that the red ground of the 
cap signifies the lake of blood into which 
the country has been iilunged ever since 
the great and disastrous battle of Kos- 



sovo ; that the black border denotes the 
veil of mourning extended over the 
whole section ; that the golden disk 
shown emerging from this funereal crape, 
and surrounded with an aureole, is the 
IMontenegrin sun rising on a bloody 
horizon, lint rising to warm into new 
life with its generous rays a regenerate 
and liberated race. No warrior of the 
" Black Mountain " country would wear 
any other head covering than this kapa 
for any consideration whatever. 

In the old days the Montenegrin vla- 
(lika.i, or prince-bishops, had entire pos- 
session of the civil, military', and re- 
ligious power <_)f the countiy, and the 
populations, bound to them liy mysteri- 
ous reverence, were passionately devoted 
to their service. Peter II. was the hist 
of the vladikax. He died in lS."il, after 
a singularly brilliant and satisfactory 
career, during which he did much to 
soften the manners of his iico|ile. In 
liis early j'outh lie had been a she|)her(l, 
but he was subsequently educated in 
Russia. Some years before his death 
he showed rare poetical taste, and on 
the different occasions when he visited 
European caiiitals he was recognized as 
a man of marked talent in literature. 
Dying, he designated his ue|)hew Da- 
niloto succeed him. When Danilocame 
to the throne he announced his inten- 
tion of relinquishing the old theocratic 
(lower with which his family had been 
invested for a century and a half, and 
that he would coiiteut liimself with reign- 
ing as civil and military chief of the 
country. The senate ratified this ileter- 
minatiou, the Russian Government lent 
its powerful su|i|iort to the new [iro- 
granime, and JMontcnegro became an 
absolute monarchy under the hereditary 
government of a [iiiiice. Danilo's as- 
sassination at C'attaro, in August of 1 8G0, 
by a returned exile, brought to the throne 



696 



EVROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



the present prinee, Nicholns I., ;v iii;ui 
of riire talents, line sympathies, aud con- 
sideralile tact in [)ohties. All who have 
seen this prince in his siniijle pahu'e 
among the njclis at Tsettinje niiite in 
according him generons praise. In the 
tronlilous moments ot the antunni of 
l.ST'S, when imprndent aclion on tlie pai't 
of Montenegro miglit have preciiiitated 
all Europe in war, I'lince Nicholas 



showe<l great skill in managing his res- 
tive people and in responding smoothly 
to the irritating demands of the Turkish 
envoys, wlio only sought an excuse for 
invading his territory. The forts which 
Tin'kt'v is allowed to maintain on the 
Montenegrin border are a perpetual 
menace to the independence of the little 
principality, and are the cause of dozeus 
of skirmishes yearly. 



EUROPE IX STORM ASD CALM. 



697 



CHAPTER SEVENTY-XTNE. 



Prince Nicholas of Montenegro. — The Outpost of Russia. — Tlie Moiilcnc^nin f'apital. 

Turks. — Legends of Tsernagora. 



-r.altlewith the 



PRINCE Nioliolns has evidently ti 
liiiiher opinion of women tlinn 
most (jf liis countrymen have, lor when 
he visit<'d Rn«si;i. in l^Olt. lie left the 
regency in the hands of !Milena Niko- 
lawa, his wife, a la<ly of niiicli lieanty 
and rare character. The visit of tiie 
|)riiice to St. Petersburg was not without 
political significance. From that time 
may he said to date the public ac- 
knowledgment of the species of pro- 
tectorate wliicii Russia has established 
over JMontenegro. linssiii has made of 
this little .star-siiaped province Xwravaiit- 
poste in the East. It was even said 
jeslinglv in Austria tiiat Mr. Alexan- 
dre Yoiiine. the Uiissian consul at Ra- 
giisa. the chief Dalmatian town near the 
" ]51ack Moiuitain.'' was the real prince 
of 3Iontenegro. because through him it 
was lielieved that the Russian government 
directed tiie policy which, witli the aid of 
Jlontenegro and IMoutcnegrin enthusi- 
asm, it hopes to carry out. By sup- 
porting I'lince Nicholas in his moiuitain 
home in his battles against the Turks, 
and by aiding Prince Milan in Servia to 
continue n-bellious. Russia was steadily 
preparing the downfall of the Turkish 
power in Europe and the reuniting of 
all the long-separated branches of the 
Serbo-Slavic family. 

The prince voluntarily abdicated many 
of liis rights as absolute monarch in 
1808, and the Montenegrin senate now 
has very large pov^•ers. But the prince 
is still all powerful in matters (jf foreign 



policy, and t.lio people are quite content 
that in those his will should be the law. 
The route from C'attaro to Tsettinje 
riuis through one of the prettiest valleys 
in Montenegro, — a valley wliich gives 
its name to the r<'igning dynasty, — 
the Niegroch. But after the charms of 
C'attaro even the Niegroch seems savage 
and forbidding. C'attaro has grand "Id 
villas with red roofs, terraces loaded 
with luxuriant blossoms, eminences 
crowned with poplars and acacias. 
Oitt of the labyrinth of crooked but 
cleanly streets peer little gardens whose 
rows of shrnl)s and flowering plants are 
fantastically trimmed. Over dingy and 
massive balconies huge ancient vines 
wind and tinii in loving and clinging 
profusi<m and confusicju. At eacii step 
one comes niion iialf-rnined memorials 
of Byzantine architectine ; a scnl|)tiued 
balustrade is seen through a grove of 
orange trees ; among the citrons one 
can dimly discern ca|)itals of mouldering 
[lillars, [lorticoes, artistic bits of iron 
and steel decoiation fastened upon the 
fronts of mansions, all the clia.ste and 
elegant remnants of a vanished i)ast. 
Here onelooksshuddei ingly foithe shades 
of the Saracens who held the old town in 
the ninth centiu'y, long after the Romans 

— who esteemed it one of their best jxirts 
when they held Dalmatia in their grip 

— had been forgotten. Rlany masters 
have held C'attaro since then ; the Vene- 
tians left their mark niionit; the kings 
of Bosnia thoiiiilit it one of their best 



fi98 FA'RorE ly storm and calm. 

strongholds ; then the Vi'iirfiaiis took it the hoat l)oats down with torrilif effect, 
ngniii, :iiid Vv\\\ it for iieail}' four huii- Tiiere is no comfort in tlie gleam of the 
dred years, making it one of the centres di.slant bhic sea. Above, the crags 
of tlic arts, thi' k\irning, and the mih- tower, jiitiless and gigantic. Tlie path 
tary genius of tlie period. From IT'.iT or staircase winds roinid and round, 
nntil iso.s Cattaro was successively never continuing more than a few vard;; 
Austrian, Frencli, IJussian, Freucli in a straight line. The very mon<jtony of 
again, and. hnally, in LSI I, came oner tliosc abrupt turns liccomes inexpres- 
mor.' under Austrian domiuatiou. Tiie sibly w'earisome. Sure-footeil mules, 
population of the sni-rounding district driven by women or chiklren, an<l loaded 
has iie\ cr lil<etl the Anstrians, and rarely witli wool, with lish, or with grain, often 
misses an occasion to tc'stify its repug- blockade tlie way. and the traveller is 
nance. I'lie commerce of the town is sometimes at his wits' end to contrive 
with the jNIontenegrins, and so arc the an escape from some abyss into which 
sympathies of its merchants. It is a the crowding caravans seem aliout to 
lira\i' little fortress-ridden comminiity, inge him. If one escapes without seri- 
wliicli the rocks seem determined to ous advcTitiire in his journey up this 
push oir into the se-i, but wliioh main- tortiions path, he liiids himself prcssentlv 
tains its hold, and serenely survives entering ni.)on a wider but still more 
earthquakes, revolutions, and changes I'ocky route, and at last reaches the 
of govemmcnt. Were it not for the valley of Niegroch, in a little nook of 
few stiff and awkward soldiers whom which Prince Nicholas was i)orn. and 
one sees strutting alioiit the entry of the wdiere, in a ([uaint villa, erected some 
port one could with difliculty persuade years since, the royal family passes 
himself that Cattaro is an .Viistrian some portion of every snmiiu'r. 
town, for the iMontcnegrin men and The jonrnev from Cattaro to Tsettinjc^' 
women are everywhere to be seen in the occupies tive hours of active climbing ; 
narrow streets. Every mountaineer, as and if the Mouti'iicgrin Li'uide is in a 
he arrives at the dividing line lietween connimnicative ii:oo<l. and persists in 
the city and the country, is com[ielled to telling you, in his poetical and rich 
deposit his arms with a frontier guard, Serbo-Slavic language, the legend of 
when he is going into Austria. This he every stone which lies by the way, a 
considers a great indignity, and it is the whole day may be readily consumed, 
source of frecpient reci'iininations, and Tsettinje is a little village composed of 
sometiines of bloody i|Uarrels. In the two streets among the rocks. There 
market, on the outskirts of the town, the arc sixty or seventy small wliite cot- 
hardy IMontenegrin is allowed to bear tages, the interiors of which are by no 
his weapons about with him. means so invitingly clean as one could 
The lra\'cller leaves the stony henii- desire. One or two of the residences 
cycle of the port . the charms of Cattaro, perhaps merit the name of mansions; 
and enters upon a zigzag route dug in these served in past days as the habita- 
the side of the rocks when he departs tioiis cf i)rinces. The hall occupied by 
for Tscttinie. The |]rudeiit Avanderer the present jMonteiicgriii senate, the 
will start lieforc dawn ; for as soon as go\ernment printing olti<-e. the arsenal, 
tlie sun develops its lcr\iir the ascent is the treasury, and the "archives" is 
almost perilous. On the arid surface small, and quite devoid of any architect- 



EUROPE LV STORM AXD CALM. 



(;9!» 



iiral preteQsions. Once upon ;i time it 
was the roval palace ; an<l because a 
l)illiard table was brought to it on the 
backs of men from Cattaro, the peojile 
of the neighborhood to this day call it 
Higliardo. The "palace" at present 
occupied by Prince Nicholas is a very 
plain, one-storj' edifice. It once pos- 
sessed a roof covered with lead, but 
tliere came a time when bullets were 
much needed, and the lead was wrenched 
off and used to kill Tiuks uitli. This 
was but one of many free-will offerings 
from the jirince to his people for the 
common safety. Under a great tree in 
the centre of the village the warriors 
meet wlien nnnors of battle are in the 
air. They sit in a semi-circle, smoke 
much, talk little, decide quickly, and 
then go forth to slaughter. If they 
need any inspiration they have only tc 
turn their gaze in the direction of the 
"Turks' Tower," a small, round edifice 
on a high rock which overlooks tiie 
town. On this tower it has been from 
time immemorial the custom to nail the 
heads of decapitated enemies. The 
prince who preceded Niciiolas sui)- 
pressed this public barbarism ; but 
neither he nor his successor will ever 
succeed in preventing the Montenegrin 
who has slain a Turk in battle from 
cutting off his head. Unimpeachable 
witnesses assert that fifty-five Turkish 
heads were brought away from the fight 
at Utowo ; and Peko the Terrible, who 
was one of the most active of the 
Montenegrin agents in the Herzegovinan 
insurrection, himself told me that the 
practice of dissecting an enemy still pre- 
vails among his people. 

The venerable monastery of Tset- 
tiujd is the only picturesque building in 
the whole neighborhood. It was erected 
at the close of the fifteenth century by 
one of the vladikas, near the site of a 



(•lf)istcr which had been founded in 1481, 
but had been mucli injured in serving 
alternately as a fortress against the 
Turks and a playtliing for violent earth- 
quakes. The monastery of to-day serves 
as a home of tlie vladika and the archi- 
mandrite, the chief of the orthodox reli- 
gion professed according to the Greek 
rite throughout Montenegro, and also as 
a prison for women who need correction. 
Prince Nicholas now and then gives a 
banquet to his warriors in his modest 
palace, and the spectacle on such occa- 
sions is unique in the extreme. From 
all points in the little princip.ality come 
tall, gaunt men, clad in their gala cos- 
tumes, and wearing cuirasses of silver 
or steel. Gathered round the banquet 
table, they are decorous and diffident, 
saying but little until the prince leads 
them on to tell of their exploits. Late 
at night, after the princely festivities are 
over, the warriors gather in a circle 
around a little fire in a cottage, and 
sing songs filled witli memories of com- 
bat. 

The prince is cool, hardy, and resolute 
in file midst of danger. He narrowly 
escaped assassination at the hands of 
a Turk some years ago, but he wanders 
about the country unprotected whenever 
he pleases, with no fear of a second 
attem|it. His conduct during the disas- 
trous day when Omar Pacha in l.S(52 suc- 
ceeded in gaining a temporary victory 
over the Montenegrins was in the high- 
est degree manly and wise. His father, 
Mirko, who was a terrible scourge to the 
Turks, and who was aiding in the com- 
plete military development of the princi- 
pality, was ordered by a treaty signed 
at Scutari Itetween Omar Pacha and the 
Montenegrins, at the conclusion of the 
campaign of 18(52, to be expelled from 
the country. But although the Turks 
were in a condition to force a treaty upon 



700 EVROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 

the Moiiteneoriiis, they eoiilil not sjuin- tliree hours' inarch from Tsettinje, not 

nion force enough to make them aeeept far from the All>anuin frontier of Mon- 

its odious conditions, and Wirko the tenegro. Near it is a iiiannlactorj' of 

\'ali:int remained among iiis native arms, recently estalilished liy tlie g(^vern- 

mountains. I'rince Nichohis rises often ment. The convent at Kieka was once 

at (hiwn. and wanders, attended liy a very famous ; in tlie sixteenth century 

small suite, through the streets of Tset- the vladikas, who were diiven out of 

tinje, hearing the comiilaints of the poor other f(.irlress-c()nvents liv the Turks, 

and the oppressed and the reports of took refuge there, and made it one of 

his warriors. He enters the senate the centres of tlie Slavic learning of 

house and listens to the noisy discus- the time, liirka lias ncithing to recom- 

sions of the sixteen conseri[)t fathers, — mend it to attention nowadays save an 

discussions always acccunpanied liy the occiisional fair, to wliicli the warriors 

clang of .-irnis. Each senator has his and maidens come to luiy the Albanian 

heavy weapons laid upon the desk liefore jewelry and Turkish pistols and yata- 

him, but kei'|)s his pistols and daggers ghans. 

in his girdle. Each one smokes a long The monastery of (Jstrog is one of the 

pil)e furiously during the session, .and curiosities of ]M(jntenegro, and is an 

when syeaking emphasizes his many edifice never iiieiitioiied, in the lUaek 

gestures with it. The princ ■ sometimes Mountain without reverence. High up 

makes an addri/ss there, and is not sur- anxing the rocks stand two plain stone 

prised now and then to lind himself flatly structures, which t'orm a si>eciesof double 

contradicted. He visits the prisons, the monist'ry. In one of them the valiant 

courts, oft<'ii acts as counsel foi- a crini- fatheiofthe [iresent iirince successfully 

inal who has wo defender, gives advice held at bay a small Turkish army witli 

to the ignorant, .and even settles famih foiiit.'cn men in ls.")7. The convent is a 

disputes. If he "ets huiiii'y while piciii- jilace of pilgrimage for all the orthodox 

enading. he has oidy to return \v the populations of Montenegro, Bosnia, W- 

senate house, where the fathers daily haiiia, Herzegovina, and Dalmatia ; and 

roast a sheep will, le, and partake of the the peasants somelimes endure ineredi- 

smoking fle-sli while still continuing to ble hardships in braving the storms 

discuss affairs of state. in those terrible mountain ways that 

In winter the snows icst heavily u|)on they ma\ s.-iy their prayers at the doors 

the huge crags, and in the deep valleys of Ostrog. .\1I the rocks round about 

the flocks sometimes suffer for food, are memorials of bloody batlles between 

But the snows do not hinder the moun- Turks and Christians. Ostrog is the 

luineers from making long journeys in seat of one of the excellent schools 

|)ursnil of game or the Turkish soldier : whicii the Mouteuegriii government, vvith 

indeed, the women are often alone the the aid of Ilnssia and .Servia, founded 

whole winter-time. When the husliands several years ago. In the savage solitude 

de|iart they do not tell their wives where of Ostrog lives the venerable l,jiibitcli, 

thev are going, and no Montenegrin the .archimandrite, who teaches theology, 

woman would be brave enough to ask giamai;U', history, and science to the 

her lor<l and master any indiscreet (pies- pu|iils sent him, and waits patiently' for 

tioiis. them to manifest their •• vocation " Some 

Kick;, is a pretty little town, about of them don th ■ priestly gown, but none 



EUROPE IN STORM AXO CALM. 



7U1 



ever put aside the weapons wliioh 
they have worn from earliest ehikl- 
hood. Climbing to the siiniiiiit of lAIt. 
Lovehen, near Tsettinje, where tlie 
tonil) of Peter II., ihe distinguished 
vladika, stands out, a landmark seen 
from miles around, against the clear blue 
of the sky, and looking down o\er the 
rugged, rocky country si retching away 
to the sea, the traveller reflects with 
astonishment upon the energy and will 
which have built up a state, and pro- 
tected it for more than fdur centuries 
against a forniidalile enemy in such sur- 
roundings. i\K>ntenegro yearly becomes 
more and more important to the Euio- 
pean family ; her [idpidalicjn, despite the 



ravages of war, constantly increases, 
and her political importance is to-day of 
a very high rank, since a declaration of 
Prince Nicholas in the stony streets of 
Tsettinj(5 may cause the ddwiifall of half- 
a-dozen thrones. It is [irobable that the 
little country will be permitted to keep 
her autonomy inviolate, whatever ma}- 
be the other results of the coming events 
in which her warriors will take a promi- 
nent part. vShe is universally respected 
because of her own strength and inde- 
pendence, — doubly at this moment be- 
cause of the mysterious support which 
she receives from that Kus!^ia wiiich has 
been her occasiuna! ally since the days 
of Peter the (ireat. 



702 EUROPE IN ST0R3[ AND CALM. 



CHAPTEK KKilirV. 

Uunuliiim Days. — Iluugarians and Slavs. — A Tiirkisli Fortress. — The Footprints of Trajan. — Orso^a 

tlie Fair. — (iypsies. — Animals in tlic East. — Lower niniKary ami its Peculiar Featnres. - 
Waysiile Inns Alon^r tlio Dannhe. — The Harvesters Coming Home at Kvcntiile. — (iypsies at 
Drenkova. — Tbron^jii ilie Iron <;atus. 

ADA-KAL£ is :i Tiiikifsli fortress Miis.sulman in fit' iilarc could have heeii 

which seem.s to .spring tlirecth' captured in Iweiity minutes. I ptissed 

from the bosom of the Daun))e, at a liy there one moriiitig on the road from 

)K>iiit where three curious and quarrel- Orsovti, on the frontier of Ilungarv, to 

soiiii' races come into contact, and where Bucharest, and was somewhat amused to 

the C)ttoman th(.night it necessary to see an elderly Turk seated in a small 

have a foothold even in times of pro- Iniat near the Roumanian l)ank lishing. 

found i)e;ice. To the traveller from Behind him were two soldiers, who 

Western iMirope no spectacle on the way served as oarsmen, and rowed him gently 

to Constantino|ile was so imi)ressive, lie- from point to pciint when he gave the 

fore the war of lfS77, as this ancient ami signal. .Scafceiv six liundn-d feet from 

pictiirescpie fiirtiticatioti. suddenly af- liim stood a Wallaclii.-in sentiy. watch- 

fronling the vision with its odd walls, ing his movements in lazy, indifferent 

its minarets, its red-capped sentries, and fashion. And this was at tlie moment 

the yellow sinister faces [leering from when the Turks were liomliarding Kalafat 

lialconies suspended aliove the current, in Roiunania from Widdin on the Bulga- 

It was the first glimpse of the Orient rian side of the Danube! Such a spec- 

whieli one obtained; it approprititely tacle ciuild l)e witnessed nowhere save 

introduced one to a domain which is gov- in this land, '• where it is always after- 

erned by sword and gun ; and it w;is :i noon," where people at times seem to 

pretty s|iot of color in the midst of tlie suspend respiration l>ecause the_Y are too 

sev<'if and rather solemn scenery of the idle to lireathe. and where even a dog 

Daniibian stream. Ada-Kale is to be will protest if you ask him to move 

razed to the water's edge, — so at least quickly out of your iiatli. The old Turk 

the treaty between Russia and Turkey iloiibtless lished in silence and calm until 

has ordained, — and the .Servian moiiii- the end of the war, lor I never heard of 

taineers will no longer see the crescent tlie removal of either himself or his com- 

tlag flying within rifle-shot of the craus panions. 

from which, liy their heroic de\dtion in Tlie joiu'iieys by river and by rail from 

unequal battle, they long ago banished Lower Roumania to the romantic and 

it. liroken country surrounding Orsova are 

The Turks ocraipying this foi'tress extremeh' interesting. The I)ann)>e 

during tlu' recent war evidently relied stretches of shimmering water among the 

np<;)n fate for their jirotection. for the reedy lowlands — whei'c the only sign of 

walls of Ada-Kale are witliiu a stone's life is a quaint cj-aft painted in gaudy 

throw of tlie Roumanian shore, and everv colors becalme<l in some nook, or a 



EUROPE f.V STORM AM) CALM. 



703 



guard-house built on piles driven into the 
mud — are perhaps a trifle monotonous, 
but one has only to turn from them to 
the people who come on board the 
steamer to have a rich fund of enjoy- 
ment. Nowhere are types so abundant 
and various as on the routes of travel 
between Bucharest and 
Rustchuk, or Pesth and 
Belgrade. Every com- 
plexion, an extraordinary 
piquancy and variety of 
costume, and a bewilder- 
ing array of languages 
and dialects are set before 
the careful observer. As 
for myself, 1 found a 
special enchautmeiit in the 
scenery of the Danube, — 
in the lonely inlets, the 
wildernesses of young 
shoots in the marshes, the 
flights of aquatic birds as 
the sound of the steamer 
was heard, the long 
tongues of laud on which 
the water-buffaloes lay 
huddled in stuj^id con- 
teat, the tiny hummocks, 
where villages of wattled 
hovels were assemliled. 
The Bulgarian shore 
stands out in liold relief. 
Sistova, from the river, is 
positively beautiful, but 
the now historical 
Simnitza seems only a mud-flat. At 
night the boats touch upon the Rouma- 
nian side iov fuel, — the Turks have 
always been too lazy and vicious to de- 
velop the splendid mineral resources of 
Bulgaria, — and the stout peasants and 
their wives trundle thousands of barrows 
of coal along the swinging planks. Here 
is raw life, lusty, full of rude beauty, 
but utterly incult. The men and women 



appear to be merel3' animais gifted with 
speech. The women wear almost no 
clothing; their matted hair drops about 
their shapely shoulders as they toil 
at their burden, singing meanwhile some 
merry chorus. Little tenderness is be- 
stowed on these creatures, and it was not 




THE RU.SSI.VNS CROSSING 
THE D.-VNUBE IN FRONT 
OF .SISTOVA. 






without a slight twinge of 

the nerves tiiat I saw tlie 
huge, burly master of the 
boat's crew now and then bestow a ring- 
ing slap with his open iiaud upon the 
neck or cheek of one of the poor women 
who stumbled with her load, or who 
halted for a moment to indulge in abuse 
of a comrade. As the boat moved away, 
these people, dancing about the heaps of 
coal in the torelilight, looked not unlike 
demons disporting in some gruesome 
nook of enchanted land. When thev 



704 EriivrE i.v sturm axd calm. 

■were gypsies tlu'V <li(l nut iu'e<l tlu' aiil (if stant lioM his <)wu aniouij; Christians 

the toi'clu's : tlu'V were Millii-ieiitly i]r- wliere he lias no military advantage, 

moniacal without arfilieial aiil. I'.iit at Oisova, although the red fez and 

Kalafat and Turnn-Severinu are small voluminous trousers are rare!}' seen, the 
towns which would nev<'r have been inHuenee of Turkey- is keenly felt. It is 
mueh heard of had they not been in the in these remote regions of Ilungai'y that 
regiou visited by the war. Tm'nu-Sev- the real rage against Russia and the 
eriuu is noted, however, as the point burning enthusiasm and .sympathy for 
where Severinus once built a mighty the Turks were most openly expressed. 
tower; and not far from the little hamlet livery cottage iu the neighborhood is 
may still be secu the ruius of Trajan's filled with crude pictures representing 
immemorial liridge. ^\"hcrclhe D.mulieis events of the llinigavian revolution ; and 
twelve hundred yards wide and nearly the peasants, as they look u[ion those re- 
twenty feet deep Ai>ollodorns of Damas- minders of perturbed times, retieet that 
ens did not hesitate, at Trajan's com- the Russians were instrumental m pre- 
m:ni(l, to undertake the e<instruction of \entnig the aecouiplishinent of their 
a bi'idge with twenty stone ami wooden dearest wishes. Here tlie Hungarian is 
arches. lie liuilded well, for one or two eminently patriotic; he endeavors as 
of the stone piers still remain perfect, much as possible to forget that he and 
after a hqise of sixteen centuries, and his are liound to tlie emi u'e of Austria, 
eleven of (hem, more or less mined, are and he speaks of the (_!erman and the 
yet visible at low water. Apollodorns Slav, who are his fi'llow-snbjects, with 
was a man of genius, as his other work, a sneer The people whom one encoun- 
the Trajan Column, proudly standing in ters in that corner of Hungary profess 
Rome, amply tcstilics. Xo doubt he a dense ignorance of the German laii- 
was richly rewarded by Trajan for con- guage, but if i)ressed can S[)eak it glibly 
structing a work which. Hanked as it enongh. I won an angry fnjwn and an 
was by noble fortifications, liound the unpleasant remark from an innkeeper 
newly captured Daeian colony to the because I did not know that Austrian 
Roman emiiire. AVhat mighty men were postage-stani|)s are not good in Iluugaiy. 
these Romans, who carved their way Such melauclioly ignorance of the siui- 
aloug the Danube banks, hewing roads plest details of existence seemed to my 
and levelling mountains at the same liost meet subject for repr 'ach 
time that they engaged the sav,ages of Orsova bec.-iine an important [loint as 
the locality in daily battle! There soon as the Turks and Russians were at 
were indeed giants in those days. war. The peasants of the H;inat stared 

When Ada-Kale is passetl, and pretty as they saw long lines of travellers leav- 
Orsova, lying in slumbrous cpiiet at the iiig the steamers which had come from 
foot of noble mount lius, is reached, the Pesth and liazias, and iuvadnig the 
last trace of Turkish domination is left two small inns, usually more than 
behind. In future years, if the treaty half empty. Knglishiiien, Russians, 
of San Stefauo holds, there will be little Austrian oflicers sent down to keep care- 
evidence of Ottoman lack of civilization ful watch upon the land, French and 
anywhere on the Daiuibe. for the forts Pru.ssian, .Swiss and Belgian military 
of the Turks will gradually disapjiear, ((WacAes and couriers, joui'nalists, artists, 
and the JMussulmau cannot for an iu- amateur army-followers, crowded the 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



70.5 



two long streets and cxhausteil the mar- 
ket. Next came a hiiugry and thirsty 
mob of refugees from Widdin, — Jews, 
Greeks, and gvpsies, — and these prom- 
enaded theh' variegated misery on the 
river hanks from sunrise until sunset. 
Tlien out from Roumanian land poured 
thousands of wretched peasants, bare- 
footed, bare-headed, dying of starvation, 
fleeing from Turkish invasion, which 
ha[)i)ily never assumed large propor- 
tions. These poor people slept on the 
ground, content with the shelter of house 
walls ; they subsisted on unripe fruits, 
and that unfailing fund of mild tobacco 
which every male being in all those 
countries invari.-ibiy manages to secure. 
AValking abroad in Orsova was no easy 
task, for one was constantly compelled 
to step over these poor fugitives, who 
packed themselves into the sand at noon- 
day, and managed for a few hours be- 
fore the cool evening breezes came to 
forget their miseries. Tlie vast fleet of 
river steamers belonging to the Austrian 
company was laid up at Orsova, and 
dozens of cai)tains, conversing in the 
liquid Slav, or the graceful Italian, or 
guttural German, were forever seated 
about the doors of tlie little crt/e.v, smok- 
ing long cigars and quatling beakers of 
the ix)tent wliite wme iirodueed in Aus- 
trian vineyards. 

Oppf>site Orsova lie the Servian moun- 
tains, bold, majestic, inspiring. Their 
uoble forests and the deep ravines be- 
tween them are excjuisite in color when 
the sun flashes along their sides, A few 
miles below tlic point where tlie Hun- 
garian and Roumanian territories meet 
the mountainous region declines into 
foot-hills, and then to an uninteresting 
plain. The Orsovan dell is the culminat- 
ing point of all the beauty aud grandeur 
of the Danubian hills. From one emi- 
nence richly laden with vineyards I 



loolced out, on a fresh April morning, 
across a delicious valley filled with pretty 
farms and white cott.ages, and orna- 
mented by long rows of shapely poplars. 
Turning to tlie right I saw Servia's bar- 
riers, sliutting in from the cold winds 
the fat hmds of the interior, vast hill- 
sides dotted from point to point witli 
peaceful villages, in the midst of whicli 
white churches with slender spires arose, 
and to the left the irregular line of tlie 
Roumanian peaks stood up, jagged and 
broken, against the horizon. Out from 
Orsova runs a rude highway into the 
rocky and savage back-country. The 
celebrated baths of Mehadia, the '■ hot 
springs " of the Austro-Hungarian em- 
pire, are yearly frequented by three or 
four tiiousand sufferers, who come from 
the Euroiiean capitals to Temesvar, and 
are thence trundled in diligences to the 
water-cure. I5ut the railway is pene- 
trating even tiiis far-off land, where 
once brigands delighted to wander, and 
Temesvar and Bucharest are now Ijoniid 
together by a daily "through-service" 
as regular as that between Pesth and 
Vienna. 

I sat one morning on the balcony of 
the diminutive inn known as •' The 
Hungarian Crown," watching the sun- 
beams on the broad current of tlie 
Dauul3e and listening to the ripple, the 
l)lasli, and tlie gurgle of the swollen stream 
as it rushed impetuously against tlie 
banks. A group of Servians, in canoes 
light and swift as those of Indians, had 
made their way across the river and were 
struggling vigorously to [ireveiit the cur- 
rent from carrying them below a favor- 
able landing-place. These tall, slender 
men, with bronzed faces and gleaming 
eyes, with their round sknll-eaps, their 
gaudy jackets, and ornamental gaiters, 
bore no small resemblance at a distance to 
certain of our North American red-skins. 



7(M; EUROPE IN STORM AM) CM.M. 

Kticli iii:in luiil :i long knife in iiis belt, tion.s. Tlicn tn'meiulons crlioos awoke 
;in(l fi'om experieneo I oan say that a among the lulls. Peal after peal echoed 
Servian knife is in itself a eoinplete tool- and reechoed until it seemed as if the 
chest. With its one tough :inil keen cliffs uuist crack and crunihle. Sheets 
lihide one uiay skin a sheep, fde a saw, of rain were lilown by the mischievous 
split wood, mend a wagon, defend one's winds, now full upon the unhappy fugi- 
.self vigorously, if need be, make a but- fives, or now descended with seemingly 
ton-liolc, and eat <jne's f)reakfast. No crushing force on the Servians in their 
Seivian who adheres to the ancient dancing canoes. Then came vivid light- 
<-ostunie would consider himself diessed ning, brilliant and instant glances of 
unless the crooked knife hung from his electricity, disclosing the forests and 
giriUe. Altliough the country side along hills for a moment, then seeming by 
the Danube is rough, and travellers are tlieir cpiick' dc|>arture U> render the ob- 
said to need imjtection among the Servian scurily more painful than liefore. The 
hills, I could not discover that thi' in- fiery darts were hurled by dozens upon 
haliitants wore odier weapons than these the devoti'd frees, and the tall and grace- 
useful articles of cutlery. Yet they are ful sti'Uis weic bent like reeds before 
daring smugglers, and sometimes o|icnly the ruslilng of the blast. C'olil swept 
defy the Hungarian antliorities when through th<' vale, and shailow's seemed 
discovered. •' Ah I " said blaster .To.sef, to follow it. Such contrast with the In- 
the head ser\anlof the Iluugariau crown, minous, lovi'ly, semi-troi)ical afternoon, 
•• uuinv a good fight have I seen in mid- in the dreamy restfnlness of which man 
sfreani. the boafs grappled togctlu'r. and beast seemed settling info lethargj", 
knives Hashing, and our fellows draw- was crushing. It pained ancl disturbed 
ing their pistols. All that, too. for a, the sjiirit. Master Josef, who never lost 
few flasks of Negotiu, which is a musty, an occa.sicui to cross himself, aud to do 
red, thick wine, that Heaven would for- a few turns on a little rosary of amber 
bid me to rccouimeud to your honoral'le beads, came aud went in a kind of a 
self and com|ianii>ns so long as I |)ut in dazed mood while the storm was at its 
flic cellar the pearl dew of yonder \ine- height. ,Inst as a bli>w was stru<-k 
yards," pointing to the vines of (_)r- among the hills whicli seemed to make 
sova. the earth (juiver to its centre, the varlet 
While the Servians were anxiously en- approached, and modestly inquired if 
deavoring to land, and seemed to be in the '•honorable society" — myself and 
iuuninent danger of upsetting, the roll of chance companions — would visit that 
thinider was lu'ard and a few drops of \ery afternoon the famous chapel in 
rain fell with heavy plash. Blaster, Tosef which the crown of Hungary lies buried, 
forthwith began making shutters fast I glanced curiously at him, thinking that 
and tying the cinfains, for " now we possibly the thunder had addled his 
ultdll have a wind," (pioth he. And it brain. •• Oh, the honorable society may 
came. As by ncigic the Servian shore walk in sunshine all the way to the 
was l)lotted out, and before me I could chapel at five o'clock!" he said, with 
see little save the river, which seemed an encouraging grin. ''These Danube 
transformed into a roaring and foaming storms come and go as quickly as a Tsi- 
ocean. The refugees, the gy|)sies, the gane from a hen-roost. See ! the thun- 
Jews, the Greeks scampered iu all direc- der has stopped its howling, aud there is 



EUROrE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



707 



not a wink of liglitiiina;. Even the rain- 
drops are so IVw tliat one may almost 
wallv between tlieni." 

I returned to tlie haleony from wliicli 
the storm had driven me, and was grati- 
fied hy the sight of the monntain side 
studded with pearls, whieli a faint glow 
in the sky was gently touching. The 
Danube roared and foamed with mali- 
eious glee as the [loor (Servians were 
still whirled about on the water. But 
presently througli the dee|) gorges, and 
along the sombre stream, and over the 
\iiieyards, the roeks, and the roofs of 
humble cottages stole a warm breeze, 
followed by dazzling suuligiit, which 
returned in mad haste to atone for the 
displeasure of the wind and rain. In 
a few moments the refugees were again 
afield, spreading their drenched gar- 
ments on the wooden railings and 
stalking about in a condition narrowly 
approaching nakedness. A gypsy four 
feet high, clad in a linen shirt, and trou- 
sers so wide as to resemlile petticoats, 
strolled thoughtlessly on the bank', sing- 
ing a plaintive melody, and now and 
then turning his brown face skyward 
as if to salute the sun. The child of 
mysterious ancestry, this wanderer from 
the East, this roblier of roosts, and cun- 
ning worker in metals, possessed neither 
hat nor shoes : his naked breast and his 
unprotected arms must suffer cold at 
nigiit; yet he seemed wonderfully happy. 
The Jews and Greeks gave him scornful 
glances, which he returned with quizzi- 
cal, provoking smiles. At last he threw 
himself down on a plank, from which 
the generous sun was rapidly drying the 
rain, and, coiling up as a dog might 
have done, he was soon asleep. 

With a marine glass I could see dis- 
tinctly every movement on the Servian 
shore. Close to the water's edge nestled 
a small village of ueat white cottages. 



Aronnd a little wharf hovered fifty or 
sixty stout farmers, mounted on sturdy 
ponies, watching the arriv.al of the " Mer- 
cur," the Servian steamer from lielgrade 
and the Sava river. The ' ' Mercur " came 
puffing valianti}' forward, as uncon- 
cerned as if no whirlwind had swept 
across her path, although she must have 
been in the narrow and dangerous canon 
of the " Iron Gates " when the blast and 
the shower were most furious. On the 
roads leading down the mountain sides 
I saw long processions of squealing and 
grunting swine, black, white, and gray, 
all active and self-willed, fighting each 
other for the right of viay. Before 
eiich procession marched a swineherd 
jilaying on a rustic i)ipe, the sounds 
from which primitive instrument seemed 
(o exercise Circean enchantment upon 
the rude tlocks. It was inexpressibly 
comical to watch the masses of swine 
after they had been enclosed in the 
" folds," — huge tracts fenced in, and 
provided with shelters at the corners. 
Each herd knew its master, and as he 
jias.sed to and fro would salute him with 
a delighted squeal, which died away into 
a series of disa[ipointed and conical 
groans as soon as the porkers had dis- 
covered that no evening repast was to 
be offei'ed them. Good fare do these 
Servian swine (iud in the abundant i)ro- 
vision of acorns in the vast forests. The 
men who spend their lives in restraining 
the vagabond instincts of these vulgar 
animals ma3- periiaps be thought a col- 
lection of brutal hinds ; but on the 
contrary they are fellows of shrewd 
common sense and much dignity of feel- 
ing. Kara-George, the terror of the 
Turk at the beginning of the century, 
the majestic character who won the ad- 
miration of Europe, whose genius as a 
soldier was i)raised liy Nai)oleon the 
Great, and who freed his countrymen 



7 OS 



EUR OPE IX STORM AM) CALM. 



from lidiiilagx'. — Kara-Oeorge was a 
swiiK'lifnl ill the ^YOO(ls of the Schau- 
mailia, until tlie wind of tlic spiiit fanned 
Ins lirow and called him from liis sinii)le 
toil to immortalize his homely name. 

Master Josef and his fellows in Orso\ a 
did not hate the Servians with the liitter- 
ness manifested towards the Konmani- 
ans, yet they considered them as aliens, 
and as dangerons conspirators against 
the public weal. " Who knows at what 
moment they may go over to the Eiis- 
sians?" was the constant cry. And hi 
process of time they went; but- although 
]\Iaster Josef had professed the utmost 
willingness to take np arms on such an 
occasion, it does not aiipear that he did 
it, doubtless preferring, on reflection, 
tlie <inict of his inn and. his flask of white 
wine in the court-yanl rather than an 
e.xcui-sion among the traiis-Daiinliiaii 
hills and the chances of an untoward 
fate at the point of a Servian knife. It 
is not astonishing that the two peo[iles 
do not understand each other, although 
onlv a strip of water separates their 
frontiers for .a h>iig stretch, for the 
difference in language and in its written 
form is a most effectual barrier to inter- 
course. The Servians learn sometliing 
of the Hungarians' dialects, since they 
come to till the rich lands of the lianat 
in the sinnmer season. Bulgarians and 
Servians by thousands find employment 
in Iliuigary in suiiimer and return home 
when autumn sets in. But the dreams 
and amliitions of the two [leoples have 
nothing in common. Servia looks long- 
ingly to Slavic unification, and is anxious 
to secure for herself a predominance in 
the new nation to be moulded out of the 
old scattered elements. Ilnngary be- 
lieves that the consolidation of the Slavs 
would i)lace her in a dangerous and 
humiliating position, and conspires day 
and niglit to compass exactly the reverse 



of Servian wishes. Thus the two conn- 
tries are theoretically at peace and prac- 
tically at war. While the conflict of 
1877 was in [irogress collisions between 
.Servian and Hungarian were of almost 
d:iily occurrence. 

The Hungarian's intolerance of the 
Slav does not proceed from unworthy 
jealousy, but rather from an exaggerated 
idea of the importance of his own coun- 
try and of the evils which might befall 
it if the old Serb stock began to renew its 
ancient glory. lu corners of Hungary, 
such as Orsova, the peasant imagines 
that his nativ(; laud is the main world, 
and that the rest of Kurope is an unnec- 
essary and tr(.)ublesome fringe around 
the edges of it. There is a story of a 
gentleman in Pesth who went to a dealer 
in maps and inquired for a (jlohus of 
Hungary, showing that he imagined it to 
be the whole round earth. 

So fair were the land and the stream 
after the storm that I lingered until sun- 
set gazing out over river and on Servian 
hills, and did not accept Josef's invita- 
tion to visit the chapel of the Hungarian 
crown that evening. But next morn- 
ing before the sun was high I wandered 
alone in the direction of the Eonmanian 
frontier, and by accident came ujjon the 
chaiiel. It is .a modest structure, in a 
nook surrounded l>y tall [loplars, and 
within is a simple cliai>el, with Latin in- 
scii|itions. Here the historic crown re- 
poses, now that there is no longer any 
use for it at Presburg, the ancient capital. 
Here it was liroiight by pious Iiands after 
the troul)les between Austria and Hun- 
gary were settled. During the revolu- 
tion the sacred bauble was hidden by 
the command of noblemen to whom it 
had been confided, and the servitors 
who concealed it at the behest of their 
masters were slain, lest in an indiscreet 
moment they might betray the secret. 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



709 



For thousands of enthusiasts this tiny 
chapel is the holiest of shrines, and 
should trouble come anew upon Hungary 
in the present perturbed times the crown 
would perhaps journey once more. 

It seemed pitiful that the railway 
should ever invade this out-of-the-way 
corner of Europe. But it was already 
crawling through the mountains ; hun- 
dreds of Italian laborers were putting 
down the shining rails in woods and glens 
where no sounds save the song of birds or 
the carol of the infi-ecjuent i)asser-by had 
theretofore been heard. For the present, 
however, the old-fashioned, comfortless 
diligence keeps the roads ; the berib- 
boned postilion winds his merry horn, 
and as the afternoon siui is getting low 
the dusty, antique vehicle rattles up to 
the court of the inn, the guard gets 
down, dusts the leather casing of the 
gun which nowadays he is never com 
pelled to use ; then he touches his square 
hat, ornamented with a feather, to the 
maids and men of the hostelry. When 
the mails are claimed, the horses re- 
freshed, and the stage is covered with its 
leathern hood, postilion and guard sit 
down together in a cool corner under the 
gallery in the court-yard and crack various 
small flasks of wine. They smoke their 
porcelain pipes, imported from Vienna, 
with the air of men of the woild who 
have travelled and who could tell you a 
thing or two if they liked. They are 
never tired of talking of Mehadia, which 
is one of their principal stations. The 
sad-faced nobleman, followed by the 
decorous old man-servant in fantastic 
Magyar livery, who arrived in the dili- 
gence, has been to the liaths. The mas- 
ter is vainly seeking cure, comes every 
year, and always supplies postilion and 
guard with the money to Iniy flasks of 
wine. This the postilion tells me and 
my fellows, and suggests that the " hon- 



orable society " should follow the worthy 
nobleman's example. No sooner is it 
done than postilion and guard kiss our 
hands ; which is likewise an evidence 
that they have travelled, are well met 
with every stranger and all customs, and 
know more than they saj'. 

The Romans had extensive establish- 
ments at Mehadia, which they called 
the " Baths of Hercules," and it is iii 
memory of this that a statue of the good 
giant stands in the stiuare of the little 
town. Scattered through the hills, many 
inscriptions to Hercules, to Mercury, 
and to Venus have been found during 
the ages. The villages on the road 
thither are few and far between, and are 
inhabited by peasants decidedly Dacian 
in type. It is estimated that a million 
and a half of Roumanians are settled in 
Hungary, and in this .section they are 
exceedingly numerous. Men and women 
wear showy co.stinnes, (piite barbaric and 
uncomfortable. The women seem deter- 
mined to wear as few garments as pos- 
sible and to compensate for lack of 
number by brightness of coloring. In 
many a pretty face traces of gypsy 
l)lood may be seen. This vagabond taint 
gives an inexpressible charm to a face 
for which the Hungarian strain has al- 
ready done much. The coal-black hair 
and wild, mutinous eyes setoff to per- 
fection the pale face and exquisitely 
thin lips, the delicate nostrils and beau- 
tifully moulded chin. Angel or devil? 
queries the beholder. Sometimes he is 
constrained to think that the possessor 
of such a face has the mingled souls of 
saint and siren. The light undertone of 
melancholy which pervades gypsy beauty, 
gypsy music, gypsy manners, has an 
extremely remarkalile fascination for all 
who perceive it. Even when it is almost 
buried beneath ignorance and animal 
craft it is still to be found in the gypsy 



710 



EUROPE IX STOEM AXD CALM. 



natiii-e nftcr (lili;j;i'iit si'micIi. 'Vina strange 
race seems ovn-sliadowed hy the sorrow 
of some luimitini:; meinory. Each indi- 
vidual lu'loiiging to the Tsiganes wliom 
I saw im|iressed me as a fugitive from 
Fate To lool< l>aek was impossible ; of 
tlu' iiiesciit he was careless ; the future 
tempted him on. In tlieir music one 
now and then liears liints of a desire to 
return to some lar-off and half-forgotten 
land. But this is rare. 

Tliere is a hirge num1)er of '• civil- 
ized gyi>sies," so called, in tlie neigli- 
borhood of Oi-sova. I never saw one of 
them witliont a profound compassion for 
him, so utterly imliapijy did lie look in 
ordinary attire. The musicians who 
came nightly to phiy on the lawn in 
front of the Hungarian Crown inn be- 
longed to these civilized Tsiganes. They 
had lost all tiie freedom of gesture, the 
proud, half-savage stateliuess of those 
who remained nomadic an<l untrammelled 
V)y local law and custom. The old in- 
stinct was in their music, and sometimes 
there drifted into it tiie same mixture 
of saint and devil which I had seen in 
the '-composite" faces. 

As soon as supper was set forth, 
piping hot and Hanked liy flagons of 
beer and wine, on the lawn, and the 
guests li.ad assembled to partake of the 
good cheer, while yet the after-glow lin- 
gered along the Danube, these dusky 
musicians appeared and installed them- 
.selves in a cornel-. The old stream's 
murmur could not drown the piercing 
and pathetic nott^s of the violin, the gen- 
tle wail of the guzla, or the soft thrum- 
ming of the rude tambourine. Little 
poetry as a spectacled and frosty Aus- 
trian ollicer might have in his soul, that 
little must have been awakened by ihe 
songs and the orchestral performances 
of the Tsiganes as the sun sank low. 
The dnsk beiian to ereep athwart the 



lawn and a cool breeze fanned the fore- 
heads of the listeners. When the light 
was all gone, these men, as if inspired 
by the darkness, sometimes im|)rovised 
most angelic melody. There was never 
any loud or lioisterous note, nevia- any 
direct apjieal to the attention. 1 in- 
variably forgot the singers and players, 
and the music seemed a part of the har- 
mony of Nature. While the pleasant 
notes echoed in the twilight troops of 
jaunty young Hungarian soldiers, dressed 
in red hose, dark-green doublets, and 
small caps, sometimes adorned with 
feathers, sauntered up and down the 
principal street; the refugees huddled 
in corners and listened with delight ; the 
Austrian otlicials lumbered liy, pouring 
clouds of smoke from their long, strong, 
and inevitable cigars ; and the dogs for- 
got their perennial quarrel for a few 
instants at a time. 

The dogs of Orsova and of all the 
neighboring country have many of the 
characteristics of their fellow-creatures 
in Turkey. Orsova is divided into 
'• beats," which are thoroughly and care- 
fully ))atrolled night and day liy bands 
of dogs, who recognize the limits of their 
domain and severely resent intrusion. 
In front of the Hungarian Crown a large 
dog, aided liy a small yellow cur and a 
black spaniel, mainly made u|) of ears 
and tail, maintained order. The after- 
noon quiet was generally disturbed aliout 
four o'chick by the advent of a strange 
canine, who, with that expression of ex- 
treme innocence which always character- 
izes the animal tliat knows he is doing 
wrong, would venture on to the forbid- 
den ground. A low growl in chorus 
from the three guardians was the inev- 
itable preliminary warning. The new- 
comer usually seemed much surprised at 
this, and gave an astonished glance, 
then wagging his tail merrily, as nuich 



EUROPE m STORM AXD CALM. 



ni 



Jis to say. "'Nonsense! I must have 
been mistaken," he a[)[)r():iche(l anew. 
One of the trio of guardians there- 
ui)on sallied fi)rtii to meet him, fol- 
lowed by tiie others a little distance 
behind. If the strange dog showed his 
teeth, assumed a defiant attitude, and 
seemed inclined to make his way liu'cjugli 
any number of enemies, tlie tiio held a 
consultation, whirji I am bound to say 
almost invarialjly resulted in a fight. 
The intruder would eitlier fl\' yelping, 
or woidd work his way across the inter- 
dicted territory by means of a scries of 
encounters, accompanied by tlie most 
terrific barking, snapping, and shriek- 
ing, and by a very considerable effusion 
of blood. The person who should inter- 
fere to prevent a dog-fight in Orsova 
would be regarded as a lunatic. Some- 
times a Large wliite dog, accompanied by 
two shaggy animals resemliling wolves 
so closely that it was almost impossible 
to believe tliem guardians of flocks of 
sheep, passed by the Hungarian C'rown 
unchallenged ; but these were [)robably 
tried warriors, wlio.se valor was so well 
known that they were no longer ques- 
tioned anyw'here. 

The gypsies have in their wagons or 
following in their train small black dogs, 
of temjter unparalleled for ugliness. It 
is impossil)le to approach a Tsigane tent 
or wagon without encountering a swarm 
of these diminutive creatures, whose 
rage is nut only amusing, Ijut sometimes 
rather appalling, to contemplate. Driv- 
ing rapiiUy by a camp one morning in a 
farmer's cart drawn by two stout horses 
adorned with jingling bells, I was fol- 
lowed by a pack of these dark-skinned 
animals. 'J'he l)ells awoke such rnge 
witiiin them that they seemed insnne 
under its influence. As they leaped and 
snaiiped around me I felt like some 
traveller in a Russian forest i)ursued bv 



himgry wolves. A dog scarcely six 
inches iiigh and but twice as long woulil 
spring from the ground as if a jiound of 
dynamite had exploded beneath him, 
and would make a desperate effort to 
tln'ow liimself into the wagon. Another, 
liowling in impotent anger, would jump 
full at a horse's throat, would roll be- 
neath the feet of the horse, but in some 
miraculous fashion would escape uuhurt, 
and would sci-amble upon a bank to try 
again. It was a real relief when the 
discouraged pack fell away. Had I shot 
one of the animals, the gypsies would 
have found a way to avenge the death of 
their enterprising though somewhat too 
zealous camp-follower. Animals every- 
wliere on these border lines of the Orient 
are tri'ated with much more tenderness 
tlian men and women are. The grandee 
who would scowl furiously in this wild 
region of the Banat if the peasants di<l 
not stand by the roadside and doff their 
hats in token of respect and submission 
would not kick a dog out of iiis way, and 
would manifest the utmost tenderness 
for his horses. 

The railway from Verciorova, on the 
frontier, runs .through the large towns 
Pitesti and Craiova on its way to Bu- 
charest. It is a marvellous railroad : it 
climbs hills, descends into deep gullies, 
and has as little of the air line about it 
as a great river has, for the contractors 
built it on the principle of "keeping 
near the surface," and they much pre- 
ferred climbing ten high mountains to 
cutting one tunnel, ('raiova takes its 
name, according to a somewh.at misty 
legend, from John Assan, who was one 
of the Komano-Bulgarian kings, Craiova 
being a corruption of Crui Ivan (" King 
John"). This .John was the same who 
drank his wine from a cup made out of 
the skull of the unlucky emperor Bald- 
win I. The old laws of Craiova gave 



712 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



their title to tiie Romn:iiii:in silvei- pieees 
uow known :is bani. Slatina. farther 
down tlic line, on the ri\er Altii ( the Aluta 
of the ancients), is a pretty town, where 
a proiul and brave conininnity love to 
recite to the stranger the valorous deeds 
of their ancestors. It is the centi'e from 
which have spread out most of the 
modern revolutionary movements in Udu- 
raania. " Little Wallaeliia," in which 
Slatina stands, is rich iu well-liUed 
fields aud uplands covered with fat cat- 
tle. It is as fertile as Kansas, and its 
people seemed to me more aiireealile 
and energetic' than those in and around 
Bucharest. 

He who clings to tlie steamers })lyin<j; 
u|) and down the Daiiulje sees much 
romantic scenery and many curious 
types, but he loses all the real charm of 
travel in these regions. The I'litnic 
tourist, on his way to or from Bulgaria 
and the l)attle-fields of the "• new cru- 
.sade," will be wise if he jouiiieys leis- 
urely by farm-uagon — he will not be 
likely to lind a carriage — along the 
Hungarian bank of the stream. I made 
the journey in April, when in that gentle 
southward climate tin; wayside was al- 
ready radiant with Howers and the mel- 
low sunshine was unbroken 1)V cloud or 
rain. There were discomfort and dust, 
but there was a rare pleasure in the 
arrival at a quaint inn whose exterior 
front, boldly asserting it-ielf in the 
bolder row of house-fronts in a long 
village street, was uninviting enough, 
but the interior of which was charming. 
In such a hostelry I always found the 
wharfmaster, in green coat and cap, 
asleeji in an arm-cliair, with the Imrgo- 
master and one or tw(j idle landed pro- 
prietors sitting ne;u' him at a caid-table, 
enveloped iu such a cloud of smoke that 
one could scarcely see the long-necked 
flasks of white wine which thev «ere 



rapi<lly emptying. Tlie host was a mas- 
sive man, witli bulbous nose anil sleepy 
ej'es ; he responded to all (piestions with 
a stare, and the statement that hi' did 
not know, and seemed anxious to leave 
everything in doubt initil the latest 
moment possilile. His daughter, who 
was brighter and less duliious in iier 
res[)onses than her father, was a slight 
girl, with lustrous blade eyes, wistful 
lips, a perfect form. an<l lilack hair cov- 
ered with a linen cloth that tlii' dust 
might not come near its glos.sy threads. 
When she made her appearance, flash- 
ing out of a huse dark room, which was 
stone [laved, and arciied overhead, and 
in whiei) peasants sat drinking sour beer, 
s!ie seemed like a ray of sunshine in the 
middle of night. But there was more 
dignity about lier than is to be found in 
most sunbeams; she was modest and 
civil in answer, but understood no com- 
[iliments. There was something of the 
[irincess-l'cduced-in-circumstances in her 
demeanor. A I'oyal supper could she 
serve, and the linen which she spread on 
tlie small wooden table in the back coiu't- 
yard smelled of lavender. I took my 
dinners after the long days' rides, in 
inns whicli commanded delicious views 
of the Danube, — points where willows 
overhung the rushing stream, or where 
ci'ags toweled above it, or where it 
flowed in smooth, yet resistless, might 
tln-ough [ihdns in which hundreds of 
peasants were toiling, their red-aud- 
white costumes contrasting sharply with 
the biilliant blue of tlie sky and the 
tender gi'een of the foliage. 

If the inns were uniformly cleanly and 
agreeable, so miK-li could not be said for 
the villages, which were sometimes de- 
cidedly' dirty. The cottages of the 
peasants — that is of the agricultural la- 
borers — were windowless to a degree 
which led me to look for a small and 



EUROPE AV SroRM AXD CALM. 



ilull-eyed race ; but the elegant orlis of 
j'outlis and maidens in all this Banat 
land are rarely eqnalled in beauty. I 
found it in my heart to object to the 
omnipresent swine. These cheerful ani- 
mals were sometimes so domesticated 
that they followed their masters and 
mistresses afield in the morniuii'. In 
this section of Hungary, as indeed in 
most parts of Europe, the farm-liouses 
are all huddled together in compact vil- 
lages, and the lands tilled by the dwell- 
ers in these communities extend for 
miles around them. At dawn the pro- 
cession of laborers goes forth, and at 
sunset it returns. Nothing can give a 
better idea of rural simplicity and })eace 
than the return of the peasants of a 
hamlet at eventide from their vineyards 
and meadows. Just as the sun was 
deluging the broad Danube with glory 
l)eforc relinquishing the current to the 
Iwiliglit's shades I came, in the soft 
April evening, into the neighborhood of 
Drenkova. A tranquil afterglow was 
here and there visible near the hills, 
which warded off the sun's passionate 
farewell glances at the vines and flowers. 
Beside the way, on the green banks, sat 
groups of children clad with paradisaical 
simplicity, awaiting their fathers and 
mothers. At a vineyard's hedge a sweet 
girl, tall, stately, and melancholy, was 
twining a garland in the cap of a stout 
young fellow who rested one broad 
hand lightly upon her shoulder. Old 
women, bent and wrinkled, hobbled out 
from the fields, getting hel|i from their 
sons or grandsons. Sometimes I met a 
shaggy white horse drawing a cart, in 
which a dozen sousie lasses, their faces 
browned by wind and their tresses 
blown back from their brows in most 
bewitching manner by the libertine 
breeze, were jolting homeward, singing 
as they went. The young men in their 



loose linen gai-ments, with their primi- 
tive hoes and spades on their shoulders, 
were as goodly specimens of manly 
strength and beauty as one could wish 
to look upon. It hurt me to see them 
stand humbly ranged in rows as I passed. 
But it was pleasant to note the fer- 
vor with which they kuelt around the 
cross, rearing its sacred foi'm amid the 
waving grasses. They knew nothing of 
the outer world, save from time to time 
the Emiieror claimed certain of their 
number for iiis service, ami that perhaps 
their lot might lead them to the great 
city of Budapest. Everywhere as far 
as the eye could reach the land was cul- 
tivated with greatest care, and plenty 
seemed the lot of all. The peasant lived 
in an ugly and windowless house be- 
cause his father and grandfather had 
done so before him, not because it was 
nece8sar3-. It was odd to see girls tall 
asDian, and as fair, bending their pretty 
bodies to come out <jf the contempti- 
ble little apeitures in the peasant houses 
called ''doors." 

Drenkova is a long street of low cot- 
tages, with here and there a two-story 
mansion, to denote that the proprietors 
of the land reside there. As I ap- 
proached the entrance to this street I 
saw a most remarkalile train coming to 
meet me. One glance told me that it 
was a large company of gypsies, who had 
come up from Roiimania,aad were going- 
northward in search of work or plunder. 
My driver drew rein, and we allowetl the 
swart Bohemians to pass on, — a courtesy 
which was gracefully acknowledged with 
a singularly sweet smile from the driver 
of the first cart. There were about two 
hundred men and women in this wagon 
train, audi verily believe tiiat there were 
twice as many children. Each cart, 
drawn by a small Rouuianian pony, con- 
tained two or three families huddled 



(14 



EL'IiOrE /.V STORM AXD CALM. 



together, and soemiiirjU- lost in conteni- 
platioii of the lioantifiil sunset ; for your 
real gypsy is a keen admirer of nature and 
her eliarms. Some of the women \yere 
intensely hideons : age had made them as 
unattraetive as in yonth they had lieen 
pretty ; others were graeefnl and well 
formed. Many wore liut a single gar- 
ment. The men were wilder than any 
that I had ever before seen : their matted 
hair, their thiek lips, and tlieir dark eyes 
gave them almost the appearance of 
negroes. One or two of them had been 
foraging, and bore sheeps' heads and 
hares, wiiieh they had purchased or 
"taken" in the village. Tliey li:dt"d 
as soon as X\\ey had passed me, and pre- 
pared to go into eamj) ; so I waited a 
little to observe them. During the [iroe- 
ess of arranging the caits for tiie night 
one of the women became enraged at the 
father of her brood because he would not 
aid her in the jireparation of the simi)le 
tent under whicli the family was to re- 
pose. The woman ran to iiini, clinching 
her fist and screaming forth invective, 
which, I am convinced, had I understood 
it, and liad it been directed at me, I 
should have found extremely disagree- 
able. After thus lashing the culprit 
with language for some time, she broke 
forth into screams and danced frantically 
around him. He arose, visibly dis- 
turbed, and 1 fancied that his savage 
nature would come uppermost, and that 
he uiight be impelled to give her .a brutal 
beating. But he, on the contrary, ad- 
vanced leisurely towards her and spat 
ui>ou the ground with an expression of 
extreme contempt. Slie seemed to feel 
this much more than she would have felt 
a l)low, and lier fury redoubled. She 
likewise spat ; he again repeated tlie 
contemptuous act; and, after botli had 
gratified the anger which was consuming 
them, thev walked off in different direc- 



tions. The battle was over, and I was 
not sorry to notice a few minutes later 
that jiafcr famllins had thought better of 
his conduct, and was himself spreading 
the tent and setting forth his wamh'ring 
Larci and PcDiiti-s. 

A few hundred yards from tiie point 
where these wanderers had settled for 
night I found some rude huts, in which 
other gy[)sies were residing permanently. 
These huts were mere shelters placed 
against steep banks or hedges, and 
within tiiere was no furniture save one 
or two lilankets. a camp-kettle, and 
some wicker baskets. Young girls 
twelve or tlnrteen years of age crouched 
naked about a smouldering fire. They 
did not seem unhapin' or hungry ; and 
none of these strange people paid any 
attention to me as I drove on to the inn, 
which, (xldly enough, was at some dis- 
tance from the main village, hard l)y 
the Danube side, in a gully Itetween 
the mountaius, where coal-barges lay 
moored. The Servian mountains, cov- 
ered from liase to summit with dense 
forests, east a deep gloom over the vale. 
In a garden, on a terrace behind the inn, 
by the light of a flickering candle, I ate a 
frugal dinner, and went to bed much im- 
pressed by the darkness, in such striking 
contrast to the delightful and picturesque 
sceiys tluougii which I had wandered all 
day. 

But I speedily forgot this next morn- 
ing when the landlord informed me 
tlial. in-^tead of tuiling over the road 
along the crags to Orsova, whither I 
was returning, I could embark on a tug- 
boat bounil for that cheei-fnl sjwt, and 
could thus ius()ect the grand scenery 
of the Iron Gates from the river. The 
swift express boats, which in time of 
peace rim from Vienna to Riistchuk. 
whisk the traveller so rapidly through 
these famous defiles that he sees little 



EUROPE JN STORM AXP CALM. 



715 



else than a pauoram.i of high, rocky 
walls. But the slow-moving and clumsy 
tug, with its train of barges attached, 
offers better facilities to the lover of 
natural beautv. We had dropped down 
only a short distance below Drenkova 
before we found the river patli filli-d 
witli eddies, miniature whirlpools, de- 
noting the vicinity of the gorges into 
which the great current is compressed. 
These whirlpools all have names : one 
is called the "Buffalo;" asecond, '"Ker- 
daps ; " a tiiii-d is known as the '• De- 
vourer." For three or four hours we ran 
in the shade of mighty walls of [jorphyry 
and granite, on whose tops were forests 
of oaks and elms. I could fancy that the 
veins of led porphyry running along 
the face of the granite were blood- 
stains, the tragic memorials of ancient 
battles ; for. wild and inaccessible as 
this region seems, it has been fought 
over and through in sternest fashion. 
Perched on a little promontory on the 
Servian side is the tiny town of Poretch, 
where the brave shepherds and swine- 
herds fought the Turk, against whose 
oppression they liad risen, until they 
were overwhelmed Ijy numbers, and 
their leader, Hadji Nikolos, lost his 
head. The Austrians point out with 
pride the cave on the tremendous flank 
of Mt. Chonkourou, where, two cen- 
turies ago, an Austrian general, at the 
head of seven hundred men, all that 
was left to him of a goodly army, sus- 
tained a three months' siege against 
large Turkish forces. This cave is 
jierched high above the road at a point 
where it abs(jlutely commands it, and 
the government of to-day, realizing its 
importance, has had it fortified and 
furnislied with walls pierced by loop- 
holes. Trajan fought his way through 



these deliies in tlie very infancy of tlie 
Christian era ; and in memorj' of his 
first splendid campaign against the 
Dacians he carved in the solid rock 
the letters, some of which are still visi- 
lile, and uhich, by their very grandilo- 
quence, otTer a mournful commentary 




HUNG.\RI.\N TYPES. 

on the fleeting nature of huimui great- 
ness. Little did he think when his 
eyes rested lovingly on this inscription, 
beginning : — 

" Imp. Ccis. D. Xnrre Fi/iiis Xeiva. 
Trajaniis. Germ. Pont. Maxiimis" 

tliat Time, witli profane hand, wouM 
wipe out the memory of many of liis 
glories and would undo all the work 
that he liad done. 



71(J 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE. 



A •Iiuiriicv tliroufjli RouiiKinia in Wav Time. — A Kliaii. — lis Ailv;uit;i;;cs and Disailvantafrcs. — Primitive 
LilV of the Villager-. — (iji llie (iieat riaiin. — Tlie Watei- Well-. — Tlie .Viipinarlics to Bucharest.— 
Roumauiau Legends. — The Frontier of I-'urope. — Fren<-li IiiHuenee in Iloumania. — Bueharest and 
Xe\v Orleans. 



MIDNKHIT. A lonely klitiii on ihc 
tTOBt of :i Kounnmiau hill, at 
whose l):ise stretches away a fore.st. 
Eastward, a broad plateau, impressive 
liy feasou of its vastness. Here timl 
there, dotting' the darkness which we 
ha\'e left behind us, camp-fires, with 
rude liiiures setited around them. The 
musical clink of a hammer (in a iiVp- 
sy's anvil is borne to us on the breeze : 
the brown Bohemian is repairing a team- 
ster's ctirt. He will labor :dl night, and 
to-morrow will slumber peacefully in the 
shade of a tree. Miilnight, and we tire 
hungry and weary ; so wo raise our 
voices in a prolonged shout. No an- 
swer. 

Hut presently a huge black mass 
comes lumbering towards us. It is a 
water-lmffalo. He marches slowly, sol- 
emnly u|i to tlie horses, snitl's them 
contemptuously, then stands impudently 
eying us. wtiggiug his stupid head, 
covered witli littkcd mud, to ;ind fro, 
and tdmost iiersuadhig us that he con- 
templates an attack upon oiu' j>.-iity with 
his crooked, useless horns. Is he the 
guardian of tiie klitin? 

We shout agtun, and charge on the 
waler-bufftdo, foreini; him bv smart 
blows with oiu' whi|is to retire, moan- 
ing, and evidently considei'ing himself a 
nnich-iujured Iieast. Still no answer. 

^\'e batter ;it the door of the khan 
with all our might, and once more halloo 
with full force. Now the doas ;iwaken. 



They htid forgotten for a few moments 
to btiy the moon, and had snatched a 
fitful n;i[) ; but our third shout brings 
them aidiind us iu almost formidable 
lunnbers. One or two brutes leaj) up to 
sutip tit us, tind the little hoi'ses snort 
with terror; for your true Roumanian 
dog has very much of the wolf left iu 
him, ;iud will lunch otT ti live traveller 
from time to time, while a dead one is 
alwtiys accepttdile. Just as we meditate 
firing our revolvers into the pack of 
ehimorons dogs :i curious figure ap- 
proaches. One glance is sufficient to 
reveal that it is the night-watchman of 
the ioctdity. He is a shambling, awk- 
ward youth, chid in red leggings, a 
stutl'ed short jacket, and a sheepskin 
cap. In one hand he ctirries a long and 
antiquated gim, in the other a knife, in a 
wooden seabliard, from which an elab- 
orately carved handle of bone protrudes. 
AVithout vouchsafing us a single word 
he steps to the side of the khan's low 
wall, and in a shrill voice addresses a 
series of reproaches to some unknown 
person within. The language is not 
choice, so I will not repeat it. Presently 
a wide door swings open, and the youth, 
saluting us with the knife, shambles 
into the shadows again, the dogs, who 
evidently recognize his authority, re- 
si)ectfully following him. 

Disnioiinting from our jaded horses 
we enter the chief room of the kiian. 
On its mud Hoor half-a-dozeu figiu'es are 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



717 



sti't'tflii'il, niul we can dimly sec lliiit 
they are human. Near tlie wall a large 
black hog reclines, indulging in dreams 
of a porcine paradise. The light of the 
feeble lanii) which the master of tiie 
khan carries in his hand enables us to 
see this, as well as to remark that fowls 
roost over the fireplace, and that a gaunt 
dog shows his teeth from a recess near 
that occupied by the swiue. Ou the 
right hand from the entrance is a small 
room, the only furniture iu which is a 
long wooden bench in front of a coarse 
counter and a few casks of wine liacked 
against the wall. On the left is the 
room in which we are to sleep. A low- 
divan extends around three sides of this 
small and uninviting chamber, and on the 
window-sills are placed painted images 
of St. George and St. Michael. A 
rosary hangs from a wooden peg, and 
an ancient gun, of such complicated 
mechanism that it must require a liberal 
education to fire it off, stands in a corner. 
A Turkish water-basin and pitcher of 
beaten metal sit on the floor. A faint 
odor of burned garlic and cheap wine 
pervades the whole khan, and we awake 
in the morning impressed with the feel- 
ing tliat we have been immersed in a bath 
impregnated with those subtle aromas. 

The host, who is the only person in 
the village who appears to possess a 
whole coat, looks bewildered when asked 
by our guide if he can furnish the mate- 
rials for breakfast. lie rolls a cigarette, 
looks heli)lessly from side to side, and 
at last begins a series of apologies. 
The hens had l;iid some eggs yesterday, 
but Russian officers on the way to Bul- 
garia had purchased them. He docs 
not like to kill his chickens. He is not 
sure there is any bread left in the house. 
As for meat, where can it be found? 
Certainly none of the inhabitants have 
any. Cheering prospect ! On what. 



then, do the villagers subsist? The 
guide leads us to the door ()i)cning into 
the huge barn-yard of the khan and points 
to the drivel- of our wagon, who is seated 
on tlie ground, with a bit of straw s|M-ead 
before him. On this straw is a small 
loaf of black bread, a large piece of 
white cheese, and a little clay |)ot tilled 
with coarse hominy. Near by stands an 
earthen vase containing water. '-That 
is the stuff that the villagers eat," said 
the guide. '•Sometimes they take the 
troul)le to cook meat ; it is easy euough 
t(-) get, but they are generally too lazy to 
pi'epare it. See, this is the end of the 
world I Ilow can you expect civilization 
here?" We go out through a gate in 
the wall, and look at the village. My 
first thought is that I have suddenly been 
transported to Africa. Surely, these 
low, wattled huts, with round toi)s, with 
liny doors, and scarcely any windows. 
are African iu form ; and tlie dark faces 
peering suspiciously from behind bits 
of fencing, are they not those of 
negroes ? 

The strong men and women are afield, 
working actively before the heat of the 
day comes on, and only the children, 
the superannuated folk, and the dogs 
remain in the village. Most of the 
youthful population from the age of four 
to fourteen is naked, and leaps and 
runs unashamed along the hard roads 
between the huts. The only indication 
of real civilization in this community is 
a steam threshing-machine, which one 
of the landed proprietors of the neigh- 
borhood erected only last year. There 
is no church, no school, no public luiild- 
ing of any kind. No inhabitant seems 
to know anything of the country ten 
miles beyond his village. There is 
more intelligence among the -ivaudering 
gypsies than in these stupid tillers of 
the soil, who are content with so little. 



718 Eunoi'E IX sroh'M axd calm. 

and wlio fancy tluit tlir lv(iiiin:iiii:iu in'in- wav : tlie deadening' heat under nhich 

ciiialit}' is tlie wliole world. unfortunate animals are ofti'U cdnipelled 

This is, however, an exce[ili(iiiall_v to drag heavy burdens twelve or sixteen 

degraded section. We have passed hours daily is fatal to them. It is a 

through neat and handsome villages, painful sight to see poor oxen, with 

where the small cottages, with the noisy tongues lolling out and eye-s i)rotrnding 

storks clacking on their i-oofs. were fi-om their sock<'ts, struggling to reach a 

group<'d in iiicturescpio fashion, and well liefore the death-stroke falls u[)on 

wluue the (ireek clun-ch-spire pointed them. The unlucky teamster who lin<ls 

heavenward, and the primary school was himself stranded on the sands liv the 

housed in a decent structure. Pretty loss of his team lietakes himself to the 

girls in (jay costumes were gathered at wliimsieal objurgation of which the Kou- 

the fountains, and stont men leading maninu peasants are so fond, then 

bullocks attached to carts laden with the lights iiis cigarette and sits down philo- 

crops from the rich lands dotted their sophieall3' until heli> arrives. In the 

cajis and saluted us gracefully. But open country in Roumauia, as in Turlicy, 

here, in tliis sun-liaked, sun-swept, sun- no one takes the precaution to bury 

burnished land, the men are surly, the carrion ; and he who has ever been uu- 

women ugly, the children saucy anil vi- fortunate enough to pitch his camp in 

cious. We begin to feel out of tem|ier the vicinity of some perished boasts of 

with this strange IJonnuiuian i>rovince. burden will never forget it. 

Presently we recover our e(|uanimity, On our join-nev from the Damibe back 
f(u- our wagoner, liaving thoughtfully to Hucharest we discovered tiuit the 
liinshcil his own breakfast first, manages only way to secure attention in the 
to collect scraps enough for us. and my lioiunauiau villages of the secti(jn 
companions and I can at hist ride on through which we were then passing was 
across tlu' seemingly endless plain.s, to connnaud it. The pi^asants nnder- 
through the forests of rustling corn, stood connneree but very pi^orly ; an 
towards Bucharest. The sun is hot; offer to buy food and grain was received 
eacii horse as he plunges his hoofs into much as a request for anus would be in 
the line sand in the way causes a deu.sc Western Euroi)e ; but pcremi)tory orders, 
cloud of dvist to rise. As far as the eye though not much to the peasant's taste, 
can reach we can see tiic level [ilain were efTectual. In this he nuich reseni- 
bcfore us, and along row of well-sweeps liles his liulgarian neighbor on the other 
— which seem beckoning to us with their side of the Danube. The stubborn- 
weird arms to hasten forward — marks ness of the Roumanian with regard to 
tiie spots at which we must not fail to some matters is remarkable, and is 
pause, and refresh our horses with doulitless attributable to the indeijcn- 
water. The Roumanian traveller oilers deuce that has crept into his character 
drink to his steed every half hour; the with the .adoption of the exci>edingly 
beast moistens his lips, pricks \\\) his liberal new i)olitical constitution of the 
ears, which were begiuning to droop, and country. In endeavoring to purchase 
continues, much encouraged. some of the bright although coaisely 

The distances botweiai these wells arc i)atterned carpets which the [jcasant 

strewn with the skeletons of bullocks women weave (lu^re is no chance for 

and hor.ses which have perished by the barter. You may take or leave a car- 



EUROI'E IN STORM AND CAI.M. 



■19 



pet, as you please : no i)ersuasioii can 
alter the priee primai'il}' fixed upon it. 

Perliai)S the most reniarkatile feature 
of Rouniania is tlie enormous (lift'crence 
between the villages and the towns of 
moderate size, as well as the cities. 
Louis Hlanc says that in Frame there 
is an abyss between the city and the 
country ; and this would certainly seem 
to be the case in the Wallachian princi- 
pality. The towns are full of activity, 
and in certain ]<iuds of trade manifest 
real eneriiy ; but five miles from any 
town most of the villages are semi- 
barbaric. Tliey spoke with discouraged 
tone of the burdens of war and the slow 
progress of education consequent upon 
the poverty of the country. lUit it 
must not be supposed that IJouuiania is 
indifferent to the cause of national edu- 
cation. The constitution provides for a 
liberal primary instruction, and renders 
it compulsory '• wherever schools are 
established." Each village or district is 
supposed to i)rovide funds for the sup- 
port of free schooLs, but the villagers 
plead their extreme misery as an excuse, 
and prefer to keep their children steadily 
at work as soon as they are strong 
enough to go afield, rather than to .ac- 
cord them time to study. There were, 
nevertheless, but a few years since, 
nearly one hundred and twenty-five thou- 
sand children frequenting rural primary 
schools, and over sixty thousand were 
receiving elementary education in city 
schools. Instruction in Eouinania is di- 
vided, as in France, into three grades, — 
primary, secondary, and superior or pro- 
fessional. In the highest grade the 
Roumanians have numerous establish- 
ments which will bear favorable com- 
parison with similar ones in other lands. 

The khan, the monastery, and the 
villager's hut being the only shelters for 
the traveller across the mighty plains or 



through the rugged mountains of the 
principality, it is not astonishing tliat 
when he arrives in Bucharest, the capi- 
tal, he is ready to bestow ujion it all tiie 
extravagant titles which it has received 
during the last generation, such as "The 
City of Pleasure," " Paris in the East," 
" Tlie Wanderer's Paradise, "etc. After 
montiis of weary wandering in Turkey in 
Europe, he wlio reaches the well-kept 
and tidy streets of the handsome new 
((uarterof Bucharest, — who finds himself 
once more dazzled by the glitter of Eu- 
ropean uniforms and surrounded by evi- 
dence of luxury and fashicn, the very 
memory of which had begun to fade from 
his mind, — is amazed and euehanted. 
It is like coming out of a dreary desert 
directlj' upon a garden filled with choice 
and beautiful flowers, with rippling riv- 
ulets and plashing fountains. We en- 
tered Bucharest from the plains, and so 
its pictiu-esqueness and tlic magic of the 
change were lioth enhanced. Advancing 
rapidly, two hours before sunset, towards 
tlie town, which I could see before me 
miles away, I could observe nothing 
specially attractive in its ai)pearance. 
But as I reached the vicinity of a long 
line of massive ancient Imildings in the 
outskirts of Bucharest tlie sun was just 
<lelugiug their gayly i);iiuted and deco- 
rated walls with floods of light. The 
picture was a lovely one, and distinctly 
original. I rode on in a kind of spell, 
jiroduced bj- tlie mystical afterglow, 
through narrow lanes liued on either side 
with liliputiau houses set down in the 
middle of green lawns ; under frowning 
arches ; through alleys paved with stones, 
each one of whieii seemed struggling out 
of the earth to smite the impertinent 
new-comer ; past a convent with its por- 
tals covered with pictures of saints and 
martyrs ; j)ast a grim modern barrack, 
in front of wliich stocjd a swart sentry 



720 



FJ-ROl'K IN liTORM AM) CAI.M. 



licldiuj;- :i drawn swonl : then over a 
naked iiarude-siround ; and. llnally. in 
rugged and nnimposing iiroc-e.ssidn, niv 
companions and 1 di'i'W rein on a boule- 
vard no whit inferior in niagnilieonce, as 
far as it extended, to thowe of I'aris, and 
alighted at a palatial hotel, whieh formed 
a eurioiis contrast to the khan before 
whose door a few evenings previous we 
had loudly clamored. 

The Konmanians are very [iroud of 
their caiiital, whicii is the most impor- 
tant city in all the Danubiau principal- 
ities, and has an entertaining iiistory. 
Uelgrflde is but a miserable village eoni- 
jiared with Bin-iireafi (pronounced Bon- 
C(>)ir<'cli/i\ if you wish to represent 
faithfully to yourself the Wallachian 
nairie (if the city). There are so many 
legends concerning the origin of this 
(|uaint name that people generally choose 
that which pleases their fancy most. 
The intelligent classes seem to divide 
tlieir preference between two stories. 
The first explains the manner in which 
Bucharest gained the sobricjuet of •' City 
of Pleasure." It is related that once 
Ujion a time, when the Turks had in- 
vaded VVallacliia, before retiring they 
demanded a tribute of ten thousand 
ducats and five hundred boys. (Ireat 
was the inilignation at this insolent 
tlemaud, and the result was a Imltle. in 
which Mirzea the Klder defeated thi' 
Ottomans with terrific slaughter, and 
compelled the survivors to lly. Thank- 
ful for his victorv, he built a uieniurial 
church and a princely palace at a spot 
which is now the site of linchai-cst. and 
which is sui)pose<l to have gained its 
name at that time fmrn tlii' many rejoic- 
ings over victory, as hiimr'u' in the llou- 
mauiau tongue means ■•joy." This 
legend being somewhat misty, others 
believe that Bucharest takes its name 
from an historical shepherd named Bucur, 



who in ancient times pastiu'cd his flock 
on a hill now occupied by the eathedi'al 
ami legislative palace, and who had 
there built a chapel to St. Ath.anasius, 
as well as a hut for himself. Mis chil- 
dren are supposed to have taken the name 
of the Bucuresci, the plural of Bucur, 
according to the custom, and to have 
given it to the hamlet which their father 
had founded. Macarius, tlie Patriarch 
of Antioch, who visited the town about 
the middle of the seventeenth century, 
has left in his memciirs the statement 
that it then had one huntlred thousand 
inhabitants, six thousand houses, and 
forty churches and monasteries. Since 
that time, desiiite most frightful visita- 
tions of pestilence, — to which it appears 
to have been parlicnlai-ly subject during 
the last Century, — despite conflagiatioiis 
and wars, and foreign ocenptitious, it 
has grown to comprise within its limits 
over two hundred and fifty tiionsand 
[leople. The plague has not visited 
Bucharest since 1813, when seven/;/ tlion- 
sKiid p<^rf<iiiif: perished in. h'ss than nix 
iri'eks. The princi|iality liardly rallied 
for a generation after this ci'ushing blow. 
Turk, Iiussian. and Austrian made 
themselves very uuich at home in Bucha- 
rest in the eighteenth century, and one 
can excuse some of the extreiue jealousy 
which Konmanians of the present day 
feel with regard to strangers when one 
remembers how unhappy their exiierience 
of foreigners has been. When the Rus- 
sians first came into the country, in 1877. 
mimliers of the elder inhabitants groaned 
aloud and exclainu'd, '• AVhat shall we 
Uise this time ? " 

Bucharest can be reached from tlu' 
capitals of Western Europe l)y three 
routes, the most dii'cct and important 
being the railroad leading through the 
Austrian Bnkovina and by way of Lem- 
berg and Cracow to Vienna ; the second a 



EUROPE IN STORM AXP CALM. 



-■11 



railway passing tliroiigli tlio fertile re- 
gions of Little Walhichiti to the Danube 
bank, and thence toOrsova, iu Hungary, 
where it now connects with the branch 
tapping the main line from Pesth to 
Vienna ; and the third by steam-boat ou 
the Danube irom Vienna or Pesth to 
Giurgevo, the Roumanian port opposite 
Knstcluilc, in Bulgaria, and one of the 
most important of the Russian stations 
during the war witii Turkey. Four days 
of steady travel by express trains and the 
expenditure of a little more than a hun- 
dred dollars in gold for fares and trans- 
port of l)aggage will take the traveller 
from Paris to Bucharest by the most 
direct route. 

The Roumanian gentleman is usually 
educated iu France, and always pre- 
serves the fondest remembrance and 
liveliest affection for that cheerful 
country. Indeed, the stranger who 
plunges into Roumania without any pre- 
vious knowledge of its history or charac- 
ter can almost persuade himself that he 
has fallen upon a Frencli pro\inee in 
the Orient. The uniforms of gendunnes 
at the railway stations, of customs offi- 
cials, of policemen, are French iu pat- 
tern ; the army otficers seem to have just 
left tlie liarracks of Paris ; and French 
is spoken with great purity and with no 
perceptilile foreign accent by all edu- 
cated people. The Roumanians, like 
the Russians, appear to possess an ex- 
traordinary facility for acciuiring foreign 
languages. Now that they have a Ger- 
man prince to rule over them, the upper 
classes cultivate tlie German language, 
and the names of the fashionable trades- 
men on the principal streets end in em 
or ein, and are prefaced with the respect- 
able and venerable |)atrouymics of 
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacoli. Tlie Jew 
has a certain commercial force and in- 
fluential position in tlie principality, al- 



though he is bitterly hated anil often sub- 
jected to dovvnright abuse by the native 
Roumanians. In a small town near 
.Tassy, during iny visit to Roumania in 
tlie spring of last year, two Jews were 
l)eaten almost to death, with circum- 
stances of barbarous and bestial cruelty 
attending the ferocious punishment, 
simply because one of them had given a 
i|nick answer to a police-master who 
told him that Jews had no business to 
be silting outside tlieir houses late at 
night. Both Russians and Roumanians 
are intolerant and ungenerous in a star- 
tling degree with regard to I lie Helirew 
trader. It is also to be said that the 
Jew gives considerable provocation, and 
that his extreme sharpness in money 
matters provokes envy and a desire on 
the part of the ignorant and often fa- 
natical agricultural population of Rou- 
mania to get even with him by means 
of sundry well-bestowed thrashings and 
kickiugs. Thousands of Jews followed 
the Russian army into Roumania and 
down to the Danube, and a recital of 
some of the expedients to which they 
resorted for amassing fortunes speedily 
would go far in the minds of many to 
excuse the extreme measures sometimes 
taken against them. It is probable 
that as Roumania becomes more gener- 
ally intelligent and prosperous a preju- 
dice which is degrading and unworthy of 
the civilization of the nineteenth century 
will die away, and the Hebrew will pur- 
sue those callings for which he has es- 
pecial fitness unrestrained and without 
fear of ill-treatment. 

In midsummer there are many charac- 
teristics in the life of Bucharest which 
remind the American of New Orleans. 
Both are lowland cities ; both allow the 
visitor to realize to the full the inex- 
pressible witchery of the strange south- 
ern twilight and the glamour of restful 



•>•> 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



aftcTiiooiis ; niitl lioth have an iiuinfiise 
vagalxmd |)i)iiiilati(-)ll. As New Oilcans 
lias the vai;rant negro, so Bucharest has 
the gypsy, the joyous, thievish, patient, 
long-suffering, ami, on the whole, much- 
to-he-admired Tsigano. The mystic 
children of the East number more than 
three hinidri'd tliousand in Moldavia and 
AVallachia, the two ancient provinces 
now definitely united under the name 
of Koumania, and naturally there are 
many tliousaiids of theiu in Bucharest. 
Tlie race has been freed from slavery 
only about twanty years, and is still 
much lower in tlie iutellectunl and moral 
scale than our freedmen of the Southern 
lowlands. The Tsiganes emigrated by 
thousands from Roumania into Austria 
and Hungary as soon as the war began. 
They jiossess the iminidence of the de- 
mon, and are masters in the art of lying. 
lint little is expected of them, and the 
Bucharestians, who are in general de- 
cent, and in many respects refined, folks, 
complacently allow gyiisy women ini- 
clad to bathe in broad daylight in tlie 
river Dimbovitza, which courses directly 
through the middle of the populous city. 
They say, "It is only a gypsy; and 
what does it matter ? " 

The visitor to the Roumanian caiiital 
must beware of one danger if he wishes 
to continue in the good graces of the cit- 
izens. He must on all occasions, anil 
with extreme gusto, [)raise the Dimlio- 



vitza as the most charming of European 
streams. It really is nothing of the 
sort ; it is a small yellow current, and 
looks so uninviting that one can scarcely 
inKU'i'stand liovv' the gypsy beauties can 
consent to lave their dusky persons in it. 
But every descendant of Trajan's colo- 
nists believes it to be a sti'eam cjuite as 
cla.ssical as the Tiber, and a loving 
couplet in the soft Roumanian langu.age 
asserts — - 

" Diml)ovitza, loveliest water ! 
He wlio drinks can never leave thee." 

Let me add that this superstition, 
which would be rather iiretty if the 
water were clearer, has thousands of 
lielievers among the lower classes, who 
are eminently superstitious. The gypsy 
mason, before he lays the foundations of 
the stone house which he is engaged to 
build, slyly measures the shadow of 
.S(Mne unwary passer-by with a branch 
which he buries in the soil where the 
nether stones are to repose. He and 
all companions in his craft throughout 
Roumania believe tliat the person whose 
shade is thus measured will die soon 
thereafter, and that his sjiirit is doomed 
to iKiiint the house when it is built. 
p]ach house has its Ktahie, or spirit, of 
this kind, and many wondrous stories 
aie lold of tlieir mysterious appearances 
and disa [I [lea ranees. 



EUROPE IN STUUM AXD CALM. 



723 



CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO. 



Notes ou Bucharest. — Streets and Street Types. — Tlie '\Vallaelii:iu .Soldiers. — Coiiseriptc.l Peasantry. 
Koumanian Independence. — Priests and Clmrelies. 



BUT to return to liiicharost. It has 
:i principal street called the " Podan 
Mogoisoi" (.s'oV being pronounced as if it 
were cho'i). Tiiis runs from south to 
north through tlio city, and along its 
sides are ranged the principal hotels, the 
rafi's, the one pretty theatre ( Teatru 
Nationcdn), tlie palace of the reigning 
prince, some of the ministerial offices, 
and nearly all of the consular and dipli,- 
Miatic residences. Bucharest has always 
i)eeu considered an important point for 
the maintenance of diplomatic agents, as 
from thence one gets a wide lookout 
over Turkey in Europe, and all the great 
[)0wers have handsome mansions estali- 
lished there, in whicli keen consular 
agents with diplomatic functions keep a 
shaip watch on each other and write long 
reports to their governments. In inter- 
vals of leisure they amuse themselves 
witli attending to court etiiiuette, and 
with the pleasant and brilliant society of 
tills odd capital, so far away from the 
shining centres of Western Europe. 
Many of these agents have written clever 
books ou the Roumanians and their neigh- 
bors. Bej'ond these diplomatic mansions 
the Fodan Mogosoi' leads past one, or at 
most two, story houses, set down in little 
gardens, until it reaches the Cluijisfiee. 
This iiretty i>ark, with flue drive-ways 
running tlu'ough it, was named the 
" Cliauss^e Kisselef " (Kisselef road), 
after the Russian general, who originated 
its plan and urged the inlialiitaiits to 
create it, when he «as stationed there 



years ago. In spring and summer it is 
a delightful promenade, and from seven 
to ten o'clock on summer evenings all llie 
ladies of Bucliarest society are to be seen 
tliere, languidly reposing in their car- 
riages, and sipping ices. Bucharest has, 
I should think, as many carriages as New 
York, for there are on all occasions 
hundreds to be had if wanted, and the 
drivers urge their horses forward at such 
a rattling pace, except during the grand 
procession of fasliion on the OhaHSsie, 
that the stranger finds some little diffi- 
culty in keeping liis seat. Tliese drivers 
in Bucharest, and in most of the large 
Roumanian towns, are members of the 
sect of Russian Skopfsi, or self-muti- 
lators. Tliey wear tiat l)iue caps, long 
blue coats, and fancy boots, — a gala cos- 
tume which accords l)ut poorly with tiieir 
faces of parchment, their lack-lustre eyes, 
their pi|)ing voices. Most of them do 
not know ten words of the AVallachian 
language, and they are guided entirely 
by gestures. A touch on their riglit arm 
sends them to tiie rigiit ; on tlie left, to 
tlie left ; and a tap on tlie back brings 
them to a full stop. The spectacle of 
several hundreds of the carriages racing 
madly to and fro, filled with otticers 
beating perpetual tattoo on the backs, 
arms, and ribs of the blue-coated autom- 
atons, as on the occasion of the arri- 
val of the Czar of Rus.sia in Bucliarest, 
was at once ludicrous and inspiring. 

I fancy there is no otlier avenue in 
Europe where one may see as many curi- 



724 



EUROPE AV STOIlJf AXD CALM. 



oils and sti'ikiim fi<mres as on tlie Pudaii 
]\Iiioiis(ii. TliiTe art- |iros|)(?rous fanners 
in IJoiunania, altlioiii;h the villages are 
squalid and senii-harliarons, and these 
people take solid satisfaetion in coming 
to Bucharest once or twice a year. All 
siinnner long, and at all hours of the 
(lay, the pronieuader may meet the tiller 
of the soil, liis Nvife, and their pretty 
l)rowu-eyed daiigliter in procession visit- 
ing the shops on the Mogosoi'. The 
father wears a liueu suit, ornamented 
with red or blue; the trousers are so wide 
that tlu'V seem like meal-bags ; the 
jacket is also ample, and the bold rustic 
displays the massive square of his more 
or less heroic breast, which is Iiurued to 
a deep I'ed by the generous sun. His 
head is crowned with a broad lilack hat, 
aluiostas ugly :is that of aSiianish jiriest ; 
sometimes he is liai'efooted, and some- 
tiuK's he wears coarse shoes. The 
women's costumes are at once simple and 
liictures(|ue ; their jackets and skirts are 
made of coarse stuffs, tastefully orna- 
mented ; and a scarf protects the head 
and face from the blinding liglit. In the 
spring and autumn rainy seasons, when 
the Roumanian village streets are turned 
into mud-beds, the women wear tall 
boots, which disfigure them and render 
their gait exceedingly awkward. The 
farmer is armed usually, l:>ut only with a 
little knife, which would serve in case 
some vagal)ond attacked him. Crime is 
not frequent in IJonmania ; cases of as- 
sassination are almost unheard of in the 
large towns, and in the wild and remote 
districts brigandage yearly fiecomes less 
andless troublesome. Tlio lirigand, when 
he is caught, gets short shrift. A friend 
of mine was travelling ten years since in 
a thinly settled section of the province, 
and was attacki'd in a wooded jilace by 
two rascals, who shot at him and his ser- 
vant. As they apiiroached the wagon 



my fi-ieiid took good aim and shot one of 
the brigands dead ; the other ran away. 
The gentleman drove on to the next 
town, and nai'rated the occurrence to 
the local authorities. " Hum ! " said the 
police agent; " we'll send some one out 
to liud out who it was, and to bury him, 
in a day or two." 

The stout and awkward AVallachian 
soldier is a familiar figure on the 
]\[ogosoi. He is not handsome, and the 
national cap, to which he so fondly 
clings, does not palliate his naturally 
micouth a|)pearance. But he is good- 
natured, earnest, and there never was a 
viler slander than that which denounced 
him as cowardly. He demonstrated his 
valor in front of Plevna again and 
again. His uniform is extremely simi)le, 
and he cannot be iiersnaded to wear it 
trimly and neatly. He looks sa[)rt'mely 
nnhaiipy wheu com[)elled to maintain a 
stiff military aspect, as wheu on guard 
at the prince's jialace or one of the 
ministries. He loves to crouch down 
on the sunny side of a wall and smoke a 
cigarette and listen to a good story. 
But if he sees the i)riest coming he will 
instantly rise to his feet, dotf his homely 
cap, bend his kuees, and kiss the priestly 
hand which is held forth in token of 
favor. 

There are numerous smartly uniformed 
special corps in the Eoumauiau capital. 
The lifeguards of the prince are mighty 
fellows, six feet two or three inches tall, 
and arrayed as gorgeously as the carabin- 
eers in Ott'eubach's opera. There is a 
body dressed somewhat in imitation of 
Italian hcrMtgUoi, and a detachment of 
these bi-ight little fellows in jaunty 
dress marches through the jnincipal 
streets at noontide to the sound of in- 
spiring music, carrying the garrison 
flag wheu they go to relieve guard. A 
peculiarity which puzzled me was the 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



725 



constant playing by the military bands 
of. our old war tunes, such as : " Tramp, 
tramp, tramp," "John Brown," " Mother, 
I've come home to die," etc. At first it 
occurred to me that an American band- 
master might be among the musicians ; 
but I could not discover one. Perhaps 
the Roumanians have fouml that the 
simple melodies of which our soldiers 
were so fond have also a special fitness 
for their own military purposes. It is 
certain that tliey have adopted them in 
large numbers. 

The policemen, the officers of crack 
corps, the prefects and sub-prefects, 
and, in short, most of the uniformed 
officials, follow French models with the 
greatest closeness. Enter a cufi or a 
chocolate-vender's on the Mogosoi on a 
summer evening, and one may persuade 
himself that he is in Paris, — all the more 
readily as it is probable that nine out of 
ten persons will be speaking the Gallic 
tongue. If some representative of the 
court happens in, every one will fall 
back into Roumanian, or possibly some 
few will indulge in German. The officers 
are elegant, dashing fellows, and bestow 
quite as much attention on their toilets 
as is allowable for man. The plain, 
sturdy Russians looked at them with 
some contempt when they first came 
among theui, on account of their affecta- 
tion ; luit when they discovered that the 
handsome boys could fight as well as 
twirl their mustaches they were de- 
lighted. 

A sorrowful spectacle on the Mogosoi 
now and then is a conscripted peasant 
in the clutch of the military authorities. 
The poor wretch hurries angrily along, 
his brow clouded, often his eves filled 
with tears, while behind him walks a 
c/endarme with drawn sword, ready to 
cut him down if he attempts to escape. 
The peasants of Ronmania suffer nearly 



as much from homesickness as do the 
Turks, and when the conscription drags 
them from their beloved villages they 
are half ready to ccimmit suicide. The 
glare and glitter of the "Paris of the 
East" does not compensate them for the 
change from farm to garrison. They 
sigh for the tall fields of rustling corn, 
the hot breezes which now and then blow 
from the south across the vast plains, 
the water-buffaloes, and the huts in 
whose thatch the stork trustingly nestles. 
Since Roumania has won her inde- 
pendence her army has become of greater 
im|)ortance than ever before, and offers 
a good career to many enter|)rising men. 
But it is unfortunate that so small a 
state is compelled to maintain a com- 
Itaratively large standing army. If the 
forty or fifty thousand men Roumania 
now requires as soldiers and officers 
were engaged in manufactures, or in 
developing the marvellous mineral and 
agricultural resources of one of the 
richest of provinces, the country would 
soon take important ranlv in Europe. 
At present every Roumanian is com- 
(lelled to serve either in the permanent 
army or in the militia. This latter 
organization always amounts to about a 
hundred thousand men, thirty-two regi- 
ments of which are known as the 
(Jorobansi, who take the place of the old 
frontier guardsmen ; twelve regiments as 
calfwasi, or departmental gendarmerie, 
and fourteen batteries of artillery, which 
oddly enough perform in peace the duties 
of firemen. These are garrisoned in the 
principal towns. The Roumanians real- 
ize to the fullest extent that the Hun- 
garians are their implacable enemies, and 
that part of their frontier which touches 
Hungary is most efficiently guarded. 
The five millions of Roumanian folk in 
the kingdom know also that there are 
three or four millions more of the same 



iL'li 



EVnoPE IX srah'M AM) CALM. 



Moml scattorpil ;\lioiit in lliiiinaiy, 'rr;ui- 
sylvania, ami the l)iilv()\iiia, and it may 
)i(' with some idea of Ijriiiging tlieir waii- 
(Icring bivtlircii uiuler the old flag at a 
fiitine day that tlicy Iceep tlieir army iqi, 
spendiug oven in ordinary years, as tlu-y 
did in 18.SI-.'i, twenty-one millions of 
francs U|iou it, and only alionta third as 
much on agrieultinv, eonnneree, and pul)- 
lic works. As for the Roumanian navy, 
it is easy enongh to sii[)i)ort, for it l)oasts 
only one largo war-ship, the '• !Mirzea," 
finished in 1883, l)esides three gnn-l>oats. 
tin'ee torpedo boats, and a nnuil)er of 
[loliee slooi)S for the Danulie, and musters 
scarcely a tliousand men. 

The stranger on tlie JMogosoi is pnz- 
zle<l in noticing that some police agents 
and postmen wear red stripes upon tlieir 
uniforms, while others are striped willi 
lihick, others with green, and still others 
with yellow and liliie. The fact is that 
lincharest is divided into live large wards, 
wliich are distinguished from each other 
li\' the names of colors. The noithern 
section, in which the ai'istocracy reside, 
has yellow foi' its hue, and this color 
will he found on Ilie letter-boxes, lamp- 
posts, the collars of uniforms, etc. 
Red is the commercial and plelieian dye ; 
green means west; black, east, and 
blue, soni'.i. A strongly marked local 
jirid.e is visible among the inhabitants 
of each of these iniartcrs ; and the 
lucky result is that there is no section 
of liucharest which does not boast at 
least one or two line ediliees, [inlilic or 
private. 

T'riests are plenty on the Mogosoi, — 
jiriests large and small, fat and lean, 
old and young. They are not always 
cleanly, I regret to say, and when their 
tall briniless hats and long black robes 
are stained and dusty they are not in- 
teresting figures. But now and thi'ii one 
is to lie seen who seems the incarnate 



ideal of the l)riesthi>od. He has the sad, 
sweet face, with the low brov>- crowned 
with flowing locks ]iarted in the middle, 
such as we have seen in the works of the 
old llyzantine artists. An ex|ires:,ion of 
tender and .-.ubdued melancholy hovers 
about the thin lijis, and a chastened spirit 
beams from the frank and widely o[)ened 
eves. A fine ins|)iration seems to hover 
:diont the man, warding otT the grossuess 
of the lower natin-e and urging him on 
to lofty and noble dei'il.s. His step is 
slow and i)lantigrade ; his gestures are 
impressive : his benedictions imposing. 
I have not wondei'ed when I have seen 
peasants kneeling in a kind of adoration 
before such a man as he blessed their 
bread, their houses, or their liabies. 
The C'ossaek, as he rode through the 
streets of liucharest on his way to Bul- 
garia, bent from his saddle to kiss the 
hand of the priest, and crossed himself 
religionslv when passing the decoratefl 
[lortico of some one of the many wooden 
churclies. One fat and rather disagree- 
aIile-l(.)oking old priest, who was evi- 
dently a dignitary of high order, 
promenaded the Mogosoi every day of 
my stay in Bucharest. At his approach 
women liegan to crouch, men to drop 
their cigars or to hide them, and to 
shuffle their rosaries, and children stood 
pale and mute before him. Form is 
everything in Roumaniu, and the exterior 
formulas of religion are sc/rupulonsly 
observe*! by all classes born in the faith 
:)f the Orthodox Greek church. I have 
often met a slow and solemn procession 
of piriests bearing the sacrament to tlu> 
dying. The iirincipal otHciator marched 
proudly ahead with swelling front ; he- 
hind him followed meek curis and 
acolytes with eyes bent on the ground. 
Companies of chanting priests were 
always meeting the Russians at impor- 
tant points both in lliilnaiia and Rouma- 



EFROPE IX STORM AXD CAI.M. 



ni;i in 1877, holding mi the sacri'd 
images for them to kiss, and offering 
them bread and salt in token of welcome. 
Some of these ceremonies wei'e nottilily 
impressive. Emperor and grand dukes 
1 lowed Iiefore the uplifted hand of the 
rustic man of Gc-id, and the Emjieror's 
first act on arriving at Buciiarest was to 
kiss the golden crucifix which the metro- 
[lolitau archbishop held out to him. 

The Roumanian elnnch is free from 
;inv foreign dominion whatsoever. The 
priucipalitv is divided into eight dioceses, 
of which two are archbishoprics, having 
their seats at Bucharest and .lassy, and 
six are liisho[)rics. The Arehbislioii of 
liucharest is the chief, and is known by 
the liigh-sounding title of " the Metro- 
politan <if Hungro-Wallachia." The 
elergv is divided into " secular" and 
" regular," each class comprising from 
nine ti ten thousand men. All other 
religions besides those of the estalilishcd 
church are as free as in America. Even 
the persecuted Jew is not troubled on 
account of his religion, and may have 
liis choice of thirty synagogui's and 
oratories in Bu<'harest to worship in. I 
fear that the Roumanian men are at 
heart as little devoted to Greek as 
Frenchmen are to Roman Catholicism. 
In both countries it is the women who 
maintain thi' Churcli. Tlic sumptuous 
ceremonials of the Greek religion liave a 
powerful hold on the imaginative, ro- 
mantic, sensuous Wallachian women. 

It is li\it a short distance from tiie 
I'odan MogosoV, along a beautiful tree- 
bordered avenue, to the hill on which 
stands the Metropolitan Church of Bu- 
charest. From tlie plain it looks more 
like a fortress lliau a house of God, for 
three stout towers surmount the huge 
structure, built in the form of a cross, 
like most Greek churches, with the 
head turned towards the east, and 



surrounded by a vast cloister studilcd 
with small towers. TIic domes and the 
roof of thi' li<(nili.rii are ci:)vered with 
lead. Tlie church was restored in l.s.'M, 
but it is proliable that the leaden roofs 
are much the same as those of which 
tlie Patriarch of Antioch speaks in his 
account of Bucharest, written about the 
middle of the seventeenth century. 
Maearius I'eported tliat this roof weighed 
more than a hundred thousand pounds. 
Inside the edifice is ornamented with 
nmcli luxury and taste. The arabesques 
especially remind one that he is in 
South-eastern Europe. Tlie frescos on 
the exterior walls are mostly crude, and 
in some cases worse than ordinary. 
They represent episodes from llie 
Aiiocalypse and from the Scripttn-es 
in general. All Roumanian churclies 
have something of this exterior decora- 
tion, and on(> or two of the churches 
are lirilliant in color. If a Puritan 
could see them in the midst of tlicir 
liretty gardens he would cry out against 
them as too gay for houses of prayer. 
In the same cloister which surrounds 
the Metropolitan Church the Xati<inal 
Chamber of Deputies is installed. 
Looking down in undsummer from the 
entrance to this legislative hall over the 
city, one can see nothing but a far-ex- 
tending ocean of verdure, pierced here 
and there by .'i yellow tower or a white 
dome. Bucharest seems asleep among 
tlie trees. 

St. Spiridion the New, not far from 
the Metropolitan, is the most beaulif'ul 
as well as the most costly church in 
Roumania, always excepting the match- 
less Cathedral of .Argesu. It is scarcely a 
generation old, and nearly all the marbles 
and frescos in it are tlie work of young 
Roumanian artists. The standards and 
sceptres of the Fanariote beys, who for- 
merly came to the ehureli which once 



72S 



EUROPE ly STORM AND CALAf. 



stood ou this site to lie crowneil, are 
preserved in St. S|iiridiou tlie New. 
'W'itb St. S[)iri(Iii)n tlio Old, which stands 
ill the eoiiiinercial quarter of Bueharest, 
a strange story is eonnected. The body 
of the voTvoda Constantiiie Ilangerli, 
who was beheaded hy order <.)f the Porte, 
in ITltO, lies buried there. The man- 
ner in whii'h this unfortunate oflieial 
met his death admirably illustrates the 
Ijarbarous condiiot of the Turks in 
their subjeet Dannbiau |ir(ivinees. The 
government at Constantinople was 
dissatistied with the administration of 
Constantine, whom it had placed in power 
in Bucharest, and determined to replace 
him. This is tlie way in which it was 
done: One da)' a Turkish ullicial, ac- 
companied by a hideous negro and two 
slaves, arrived in Bucharest, and went 
straight to the imhice. Without ex- 
plaining their mission they entered 
( 'onstantinc's ajiartment. and the negro 
killed him witli a pistol-shot. The 
Turkish ollicial then plunged his knife 
into the dead man's breast, cut off his 
liead, anil tlu'ew the IkmIv. strippeil 
naked, into the court-vard coverecl with 
snow. This interesting partv then I'e- 
tired. carrying oil' the slaughtei'ed \(i"i- 
voda's head, and in course of time 
the I'ortf named a successor to CV>nstan- 
tiue. The Koumanian i)o|)ulation was 
so horrified by this barbaric act that it 
was some days befoic :iiiv one dared to 
remove the body. And this happened 
little more than three-quarters of a cen- 
tury ago ! 

The memory of another Constantine, 
who was also belieadcd by his ferocious 
masters, the Turks, after he had been 
hos|)odar of Roumania for a short time, 
is recalled by the Church of Caltzea, 
whii-h is one of Ihc' interesting edilices 
of Bucharest. 'J'liis ehnrch is said to 
have been constructed liv the Swedish 



soldiers who took refuge in Roumania 
after their disaster. Charles XII., 
when he was transferred from Bender to 
Demotica, in 1713, passed a night at 
Caltzea, which was then just finished. 
The hospodar, Constantine Brancovauo, 
went to meet the great man at the gates 
of the city, and in the course of compli- 
mentary conversation observed, "We 
have heard that Your Majesty has slain 
as many as twenty Janissaries with your 
own hand." " Ah ! " said Charles, mod- 
estly, "you know people always exag- 
gerate by at least one-half." 

On the Mogosoi stands the Sarindav, 
a church in which is carefully enshrined 
a so-called miraculous image of the 
Blessed \'irgiu. Matthew Bassaraba, a 
pious iirince, built the church in 1634, 
and Koumanian annals record him as 
instrumental in tlie building of thirty- 
nine otlier sacred edifices. When the 
(irincc or any other great personage 
falls seriously ill the sacre<l image is 
taken from tlie Sarindav and borne to the 
house of the sufferer by priests, who ride 
in a gala caniage, before which lighted 
c;uidles are borne. The [icoiilo in the 
streets kneel, or make profound ol)eisan- 
ccs, as the image passes. If the sulferer 
is a (lerson in ordinary circumstances a 
monk in a. hired carriage bears to him a 
small image whicli is a copy of the more 
wonderful one. 

()f the ninety-six Orthodox eiiurches 
of Bui'harest aliout one-half are his- 
torically interesting. Each has its 
legend, its ballad, or its curious inci- 
dent, which the paiishioncrs are never 
tired of re|)eating to strangers. Most 
of tlie intelligent inhabitants arc familiar 
with the story of the origin of the 
monastery church of Miliail \'oda, pict- 
urescpiely siluated on one of the few 
eminences in Bucharest. '• Mad the 
Devil," a great ruler and lighter in the 



ECROPE IJV STOK}f A.VD CALM. 



729 



Wallacliinu daj-s, is lielieved to have 
foiindod this oluireli in Holj. This Vlad 
was a wild fellow, aud perhaps desired 
to case his conseience liy establishing 
churches. His career was filled with 
deeds of the most diabolical ferocity, 
and it is said that he (jnce caused 
twenty-five thousand Turkish prisoners 
to be impaled. The old church is now 
rapidly crumbling to decay. 

The barefooted aud often bareheaded 
newsboy, rushing wildly along beneath 
the awnings in the heated streets aud 
thrusting sheets damp from the press 



under the noses of the pedestrians re- 
minds the American of home, and that 
the press is absolutely free in Roumania. 
Everything and everybody receive ample 
criticism, and at all hours of the day 
one hears the boys crying "Pr^.sa.'" 
" Romanul ! " '•'•Romania Libera ! " and 
a dozen other journals more or less 
important. Bucharest has a large read- 
ing population, but nine out of ten of 
the village folk can neither read nor 
write, and look upon a newspaper as the 
most utterly suiierfluous <_)f things. 



780 



EVROVE L\ STORM AM) CALM. 



C'lIAPTKR EIOIITY TIIRKE. 



The Garden of Ilcrcstrcu. — fiypsy Music— Roumanian Amusements.- — Prince Gortschakoff at Butlia- 
rest. — General Ii^uatietf. — Roumanian Houses. — Ploiosci. — A Funeral in Roumania. — A Bit of 
IIi-<ti)ry. — A hilieral (c institution. — Kinjf Cliarles. — Tlu- ITpf^rowth of Literature. 



^T^IIK liy|i«y".s uvi'S nre wDiiderfiilly W;ill:iclii:iii hi^pr. A few scmi-civilizcd 
-L hrouii :iim1 soft, and as la- lays tiller^ of the soil are galloping home- 
aside his i/iixld. the iiiiisieal instrument ward oi; their merry little horses, whose 
from which he has just evoked siieh l)as- l)reakneek ptice seems likely to liring 
sionate sounds, and tipproaehes us, ex- misfortime to the unsteady riders. Wine 
tending his letin htind and shrugging his lias (lowed in rivulets iu the shops in the 
shoulders witli depreeatorv air, it is hard shalihy streets just outside the town, for 
to send him away with an tiiigry word, it is :i •' market-day." At lianiassa, 
A few hani eonteut him. and he retiu'ns once a favorite sulnirhau resort for liu- 
to the slitide of a friendly tree, ;tnd, with charest's fashionable folk, a few thou- 
liis eompanions, sings a I'ound of deli- sand sturdy Russians are eneam[,ed, and 



eious melodies, (■aeh and all filled with 
wild and plainti\c chords, with lender 
melancholy, and a riale elo(juence tdmost 
surprising. 

We are seated in the garden of Ile- 
restreu, outside the city of Bucharest 
Ilerostreti is an oasis erowde<l with di'- 



a hum arising from their tented city is 
lioriic on the cxening breeze to listeners 
a mile away 

AVithiu this magie close of Ilerestreu 
one forgets everything but the cutrane- 
ing melody of the d:irk-skiniie<l vaga- 
bond choir S(|natted inider the trees. 



lights in the middle of a comparatively Who would luive suspected that beneath 

uninteresting plain. When the rich these scowling brows, these nnea.sy eyes, 

southern moonlight showers its glory these foreheads crowned with mtisses 

on the green sward and among the odor- of inky hair, lay such power of poetic 

ous vines and flowers the beauty and exiiression ? The men are marvels : 

I'ushiou of the Roimianian capital seek when they sing they seem ins|>ired ; 

respite from the toils of the parlor and their faces are transfigured ; their bauds 

the l.iall-room in this charming spot, tremble ; their lips quiver with excite- 

For lull!' a mile round about, iiretty vil- ment. On the throbbing current of their 

las siu-roundi'd by w<ll-kept gardens sensuous song one is borne into a region 

are scath-red at rare intervals; but with of ent'hantment. One liears the musical 

this cxcc|.tion, the stretch of laud is flow of the great Danube past the mighty 

barren and uninviting. At a place crags and through the vast valleys where 

where foiu' roads meet, a long, one-story Trajan once camped and fought and 

inn. with grotesque figures painti'd on worked; one sees the misty blue of the 

its stable-door, rears its al.iject fi-ont. hills over wliich the Hungarian lander 

In the yard of this caravansary a few tramps meriily ;it sunrise to the refrain 

slatternly girls are romping, and one or of the horn ; oni' seats oneself in nooks 

two peasants sit moodily drinking sour where the purple grape-clusters move 



KUliOl'K ly STORM ASH CALM. 



731 



henvily to and I'lo i.bovc liiiii ; one 
stands by the foot of some moss-gn.jwii 
cross ill .111 aiU'ient village and watelies 
youths and maidens treading the curious 
mazes of the Mora Tauz. So subtle 
is the spell tliat one who is under its 
inllnence fi'els a coutenipt for tlic tame 
sensations of more thoroughly civilized 
Western Etn'ope. The mystery, the 
\oluptuousness, the dreaminess of the 
Orient seize on him an<l claim him for 
their own. 

Piesently the music dies away ; the 
clear, |)iercing tones of the youngest of 
the singers stoi) shortly just as they are 
taking a flight in mid-air. The calm 
after this melody is almost startling. 
Twilight is coming ra|)idly. I sit and 
muse for an hour : the charm holds long 
and well. At last I look up and see the 
gypsy musicians stretched upon their 
backs, with their dusky faces turned 
toward the veiled sky. Tliey are fast 
asleep, and uidess tiie pi'oprietor turns 
them out of the garden they will remain 
so until morning. They seem to have 
exhaled all their strength in their song. 
When they wake they will wander to the 
nearest stream, throw a.side their ex- 
tremely scanty garments, and [iluuge and 
lie in uncouth iiositions in the muddy 
flood, as their friend the waler-bulf'alo 
does. After this simple toilet they will 
tramp before the sun is hot, lireakfaston 
a crust and a fragment of old cheese, 
and sing again wherever they are i)er- 
mitted so to do. 

The Roumanian comuKin folk liave no 
very definite ideas of anuisement and 
recretition as compared with those of va- 
rious other nations. There is a certain 
amount of grace and a rude rhythm in 
the Hora, — the dance which the peas- 
ants indulge in at night in rustic calja- 
rets, or on festal days in the towns, — 
but there is not much merriment in it. The 



men and women botli act as if they wore 
not sorry when the dance is over and 
they can relajise into their normal condi- 
tion of siouehiness. Sometimes one 
chances upon a downriglit merry com- 
pany ; Init it is the exception. I went 
one afternoon to a fair in the outskirts 
of Bucharest, having been informed that 
it would I)e a gay si)ectacle and could 
only lie seen (nice a year. After infi- 




KOUMANI.'\N TVl'KS. 



nite dilHculties in finding the place indi- 
cated, all that I discovered was a series 
of wooden liooths, in which languid and 
sallow women, none of whom were emi- 
nent for lieauty or smartness of attire, 
were selling cloths, printed haiulkerchiefs, 
car|)ets woven by the industrious wives 
of villagers near the capital, and articles 
of fantas}' imported from the Palais 
Royal, in Paris. There were few buyers, 
and the sellers appeared more anxious to 
forget the dull September heat in sleep 
than to dispose of their wares. I fancied 



73^ 



EUROPK /.V STORM A XT) CALM. 



tluit the war and its sorrows (for the 
Roumanians had then just crossed the 
Danube to join the Russians in tlie siege 
of Plevna) had deadened tlie custoniary 
gayet\' ; but friends in Bucharest assured 
me that "it was as Hvely as usual." 
Tlie terrible extremes of the Roumanian 
climate keep the people from that dis- 
play of vivacity which one expects of the 
southern tcnuierament. They bake in 
summer, and they freeze in winter. 
They love nuisic, and through all the 
pleasant months they crowd th<' uaiilcns. 
where regimental bands play, and singers 
retail the latest fragments of oi>era 
bduffe. ^ Rasca's " and the "Swiss 
I iiion " — -little jiarks laid out in tlie 
Austrian fashion, with restauranis and 
bcrr-fountains attachcil — possess open- 
air theatres. Tiiat year the various 
rntertainment.s for the pur[)ose of gain- 
ing fluids fur the hospitals brought all 
Bucharest to " Rasca's." 

The pretty I'rineess Elizalieth, with 
tlie ladies of iier court and hundreds of 
exijuisitelv beautiful young girls, — beau- 
tiful, alas ! only to fade ere their wom- 
aiiliood has begun, — wandered in tlie 
shadv aisles with scores of lirilliantly 
iiiiifdvincd Rus,-ian dukes, princes, and 
barons. All the dignitaries of liuclia- 
rest, from the minister of foreign affairs 
T,o the prefect of pnlice, were to be seen 
ill ;in exi'iiing's jiromenade. The music 
on siicii occasions wa,s exceptionally' 
good; the acting and singing execrable, 
— a legacy of histrionic horrors, from the 
slums of Paris. St. Petersburg, Moscow, 
and Odessa, having been forced uiion tlie 
unfortunate citizens of Bucharest. Ven- 
erable Prince GortschakotT did not hesi- 
tate to exhibit himself in this garden 
IVom time to time, to hiugh with tlie 
brightest of the maidens, and to utter 
those singularly uou-committal answers 
to "leading (luestitms" f<.>r which he is 



famous, when an indiscreet fellow-coun- 
tryman or a i)usliing ilipluniat took 
advantage of his apparent good-nature 
to be rather dai'ing. Prince Gortseha- 
koff showed his age. He walked rather 
feebly, and generally appeared on the 
street at Bucharest supported on the 
arm of some one who was young and 
strong. His temiier was cheerful in a 
suj-prising degree ; nothing seemed to as- 
tonish him. The series of alarming 
rumors which came to him from beyond 
the Daiiulie. after (ieiieral ( xourko's re- 
turn (Voin his impetuous raid across the 
Balkans, were enough to try the nerves 
of fresher and more vigorous men than 
the aged jiremier ; but his cliecrfnlness 
was always remarked just at moments 
which seemed gloomie.st to other friends 
of the Russian cause. In his relations 
with the Roumanian authorities — rela- 
tions naturally of extreme delicacy, 
because anything like pressure on the 
ollicials of the tiny State was far from 
his thonglits, and lirinness might at any 
moment be construed by tlie .susceptible 
))eopie into arbitrary demand, — he gave 
proof of a gentle consideration which 
made him lioth resjicctcd ami loved. It 
is to be feared that General Ignatieff did 
not give the Roumanians the same treat- 
ment. If the rumors be true he was 
not mealy-mouthed when he arrived 
in Bucharest to ask for the recession of 
Bessarabia to Russia, and hinted that 
they would be wiser to give it in ex- 
change for something else than to see it 
taken violently from them. There is no 
denying the fact that the Roumanians 
were from time to time r.-ither Jireteu- 
tioiis ill tlii'ir relations to the Russians; 
and that some of their reriuests were de- 
nied siniiilv bi'canse it would have been 
impossilile to grant them. At one time 
it seemed as if they delighted to place 
obstacles in the way of the Russians ; 



EUROPE I.V STORM AND CALM. 



733 



but thoy soon began to T^'ork in unison 
with their Nortliern friends when they 
learned tliat notliing less than the demoli- 
tion of tlie Turkish power in Euroiie was 
contemplated. 

A Roumanian liouse is a perfect laby- 
rinth of stair-ways, small and large, 
liglited and unligiited ; of balconies over- 
hanging other houses ; and of long pas- 
sages open at both ends. At night tlie 
servants, men and women, sleep on the 
floor on these balconies and in the cor- 
ridors, and tlie traveller entermg after 
midnight for the first time one of the 
populous mansions of Bucharest might 
readily fancy that the way to his 
bedroom was strewn with corpses. He 
would have to steii over the cook, who, 
witli a single blanket thrown about her 
portly form, wonkl perhaps be dream- 
ing and murmuring a voluble Wallachian 
pra3-er ; to steer cautiously around the 
maid-of-all-work, on whose olive-colored 
face, framed in a night of untidy locks, 
the moon might be casting its dangerous 
beams ; and, escaping this Scylla, he 
would eonf re nt the Charybdis of the 
serving-man, who wears a long knife in 
his belt, anil whose temper is bad when 
he awakes in a fright. Awalving before 
dawn one morning at Ploiesci, I heard a 
strange rustling sound on my balcony, 
and, peering from the bedroom window, 
saw the whole landing loaded with the 
ungainly forms of wagoners, who had 
come in during the night, and who slept, 
shrouded in tiieir slieepskin mantles, as 
if they reposed upon couches of " roses 
besprinkled with dew." Others, who 
had found the balcony occupied, were 
snoring comfortably on heaps of soiled 
straw in the very centre of the barn-yartl, 
as the dirty enclosure known as the 
'' court" of the hotel would have been 
called in America, and were not likely 
to waken until the fowls hopped over 



thrni and the inquisitive pig of the 
locality rooted them out. But this was 
no more remarkable than the strange 
nest in which a whole Bulgarian family, 
my hosts in Tirnova, slept nightly. It 
was a species of little fortress, con- 
structed of carpets, cushions, and the 
garments of the father, mother, statu- 
esque daughter, and " small brother," 
who were all ensconced there ; and it 
was in the entrance-way, so that no one 
could go out at early morning without 
stepping over, and sometimes uuwarilj' 
upon, the unconscious sleepers. 

A mystery, which must forever remain 
unexplained, is the magical manner in 
which the man-servant, who is nsuall}' 
dres.sed in wliite tunic and trousers, and 
who in the day appears clean and well 
clothed, manages to keep up appear- 
ances after sleeping and grovelling every 
night in these same garments on the 
dusty floor. It is wonderful, too, that 
one does not hear them comi)lain of 
colds, of rheumatisin, or of fever. In 
winter they muffle themselves in sheep- 
skin or in thick blankets made in the 
mountain hamlets and sold for a trifle. 

There are numerous evitlences of for- 
mer Turkish domination to be seen in 
Bucharest, — perh.ips none more striking 
than the servile submission of the masses 
to any small authority, whether it be 
employed in an offensively arbitrary 
manner or within decent limits. The 
jieople, although living under a consti- 
tution wonderfully liberal for Europe, 
still show that they have once been sub- 
jected to the rule of a country whose 
only law is the sword. I was amazed, 
on the occasion of the arrival of Czar 
Alexander in Bucharest, to see the rjen- 
darmes of the city driving peasants out 
of the way of the procession with good, 
stinging blows from their whips or with 
their hands. The fellows thus roughlv 



731 EVRori: IX stohm ax/> calm. 

tri'ntfd iiirnlv :.Iiraiik away, looliiuLC f'- S1ii\y ami solemn dirges are sometimes 

liroaclit'iillv at tlieir tormentors. (be aecoiin)animent of these funeral 

Turliish areliiteeture peeps out from [larties, bauds or ])ortions of bands 

s(re<'t-rorners in (lie lioumauiuu capital, ac-cordiug their services. There is a 

The peddlersof fruitaud veyetalilcs carry wonderful wealth of affecti<in in the im- 

tlioir wares suspended from the loui;, pnlsixi' Koumauian character, — an in- 

un^aiulv, and incou\'enieut volvc which tense love for home, family, and friends ; 

one se<'s e\'erv»here in Tnikey ; and and grief iu allliction is \ioleut, un- 

some of (lie most palatalile of Mussulman reasoning, often alarmingly despairing, 

dishes hold (heir place still against the A mighty ciy of anguish went n\t 

innovations of French an<l Austrian from the stricken little country when at 

cookery. ProhaMv Uiiinaiiin Lilirra. least a fourth of the brave army of 

as her citizens now like to call the liber- liomnania was slaughtered in front 

ated St; te, will cniliMVor hereafter to of Plevna, and for a time it seemed as 

disix'nse with evervthing which reminds if the stay-at-home relatives woidd fairly 

it of ()tto:i;an rule and Osmanli tyranny, levolt unless the government ordered 

I do not think that the Kouinanians of the snr\ivois to return across the ])an- 

thc present generation feed any of that ube and risk themselves no more. But 

intense hatred of the Turk felt by the this nureasoiuiljle freak of temiier w:is 

St-rvians, but the\' fullv recogui/.e his fortunately of short duration, 

unlitness for coidact with mocli/rn ci\il- lionmania's history has l)eeu stormy 

izatiou, and are glad that he is to ]\r and full of striking incidents. The 

banished I'rom the coumries which ln' country which is properly Koumania 

refuses to im|irove. to-<lav was the hi>me of the ancient 

A funer;d in liomnania is somewhat Dacians, who were of Thraeian origin, 
startling to him who sees it for the first and bore a marked resemblance lo the 
time. 'I'he dead are borne through the (jauls. Trajan ciiuie with his terrible 
streets, lying tnu;otlini'<l, in a hearse legions, and the l)aciaus succnmbe<l, 
whose glass sides permit eveiv one to and were swept like chaff before the 
sec the last of poor mortality. If it be valorous Komans, who were flushed with 
a man he is <lressed in his fniest clothes ; \ ictory and a thirst for new concpiests. 
if a woman — and especially if a young The Dacians hail jieoijled the sections 
one — she is robed in white, and gar- now known as Moldavia, Wallachia, 
lands of llowers, natural and artificial, the I5anat, 'I'ransylvania, the Unkovina 
crown her tresses or rei)ose upon her and Bessarabia ; and as they disap- 
bosom. Priests bearing the sacred [leared their places were taken by the 
emblems and clad in robes such as they colonists whom Trajan summoned from 
wear when ofllciating at the altar pro- Italy and Spain. These colonists were 
cede the mourning friends, many of the ancestors of the people who have 
whom follow on foot. There is some- finally beecune the Koumauian race, 
thinu- eliastlv and revolting iu this For a century or two the new jircx luce 
s|)(>ctacle of the dead carried thus enjoyed such jirosperity that the chrcjui- 
Ihrough the- crowded streets. Wlier- clers of the time s^ieak of it as Dacia 
ever a procession jiasses all vehicles Felix. Then came the invading Goth, 
not connected with it stop, and the who drove out or frightened into re- 
drivers revcrenllv cross themselves. uioval Inre-e unudiei'S of the colcjuists. 



EUitorE IX sroii.u axd calm. 



1-^') 



But tlir majority of tliein rt'iiiaiucil. liv- 
ing iiiiioug the Goths, but not mingling 
•with them, until still other invaders 
came and dispersed both tioth and 
Daco-Roman. The latter took to the 
mountain regions, ;;nd in the great re- 
cesses of the Carpathians nourished into 
vigor a national life which was des- 
tined to have numerous reverses, but to 
support them all with hardihood. Tow- 
ards the latter half of tlie thirteenth 
century the real Roumanians, who had 
of course taken something of the Daeian 
character from intermarriage, came down 
to the plains and began to assert them- 
selves. Under the conmiaud of two 
chiefs, Rodolph the Black and Dragoch, 
they established the principalities of 
Wallachia and IMoldavia. This, by 
Roumanian historians, is always spoken 
of as " the descent," and is their start- 
ing-point. Wallachia was doomed to 
possess an independent existence but a 
short time : in 1393 the Turk came in, 
and the principality placed itself under 
the "protection" of the Porte. The 
Ottomans gradually strengthened their 
influence until it became tyrannical rule, 
but not liefore there had been many 
splendid revolts. In those wild days 
uprose " Vlad the Devil," he who 
scourged the Turks and at one time im- 
paled twenty-five thousand Turkisii pris- 
oners. 

In 1511 Moldavia caiiitulatcd to the 
Turks. Her people had been able to 
resist for a much longer time than the 
Wallacbians because of their mountaui 
fastnesses ; but the fatal day came for 
them also. The history of the two sis- 
ter principalities for the next three 
centuries and a half may be divided into 
three periods — the first that during 
which, although under Ottoman suze- 
rainty, they were governed by native 
princes; the second tlie " Fanariot^' 



epoch," from 171G to 1822, in whicii 
they were goverened by foreign rulers 
named and maintained in power by the 
Porte ; and tlie third and iiresent that 
which is sometimes called the " Rou- 
manian Renaissance," denoted by the re- 
turn to native rule, by the recognition 
of the rights of the country by the great 
European powers, and at last by the 
declaration of independence of 1.S77. 
It is noteworthy that all the countries 
originally peopled by the colonist ances- 
tors of the Roumanians now have in 
them large numbers of people speaking 
the Roumanian tongue ; and if King 
Charles could get a slice of Hungary, a 
good l)itof Austria, and could have kept 
the Bessarabia deeded to Ronmania at 
the time of the humiliation of Russia by 
the powers, but which she was compelled 
to give back as the price of her liberties 
to the great Northern power, he would 
find liimself ruling over more than ten 
millions of subjects. 

It is odd that these Daiuibian folk, 
who have borrowed so much from the 
French, did not think it worth while, Ijy 
some clause in their eonstitntion, to 
trammel the press and the spoken word. 
They did not, and the result is that 
King Charles knows exactly what the 
people think of hiin whenever he under- 
takes a measure likely to be unp()])ular. 
No editor or speaker feels called ui)oii 
to mince his phrases in discussing the 
inmates of the palace, the ministers, the 
judges, or the general. There is a 
" Red " iiarty in the country, an I it has 
its say as often as it chooses, an. I some- 
times has power in its hands. King 
Charles came to the throne at the 
close of a very excited and dangerous 
period in Roumanian affairs. Naturally 
enougli there had been a revolution at 
Bucharest in 1848, when the great demo- 
ci'atic wind swei)t over Europe and 



736 



ET'RorE /■.¥ srnR,)f axd calm. 



sliiTod even the hinds on the Air-strcti-h- 
iiiji [ihiiiis liy till' DmihiIip to a souse of 
their political (le2:r;\(hition. A Hberal 
constitution was prochiiniecl, and the 
national party d:uly grew strong and 
conrageons. But the Turks were not 
inclined to see their rule shaken off, and 
they pushed Omar Pacha with a large 
army to the hanks of the Danulie, de- 
posed the rulers who had succeeded to 
the short-lived '• [jrovisioual govern- 
ment " of revolution, and presently 
oceupie<l the two principalities con- 
jointly witli the Russians. After the 
various foreign occupations of the 
troul lions times preceding, during, and 
at the close of the Crimean war, R:iu- 
luaiiia had the satisfaction of seeing its 
historic rights i-ofngnized, and of llnding 
its [irivileges placed under the collective 
guarantee of the gri'at powers. In 
l.SCl the tenii)orary luiion of jMolilavia 
and Wallachia was proclaimed at Bu- 
charest. Three years later tlieie was a 
coup d'lJfat. The reigning prince dis- 
solved the National Assembly and sub- 
mitted a new pi'ojcct of law to the 
pojple. This prince was a Colonel 
Couza, who was elected in 1850. He 
abdicated in IHtKJ, after what may be 
fairly considered a successful reign, and 
in April of that year Prince Charles 
came in, with the shadow of the already 
menacing power of Germany behind 
him. He was no soouer firmly seated 
on the throne than the present constitu- 
tion was i)roclaimed, and the uuit)U of 
AVallachia and Moldavia was confirmed, 
rei'ognized, and guaranteed by Eiu'oi)e. 
Roumania was thus created ; it re- 
mained for her only to emancipate her- 
self from the htiteful suzerainty of the 
Porte, to which greedy government she 
was compelled to pay a million francs 
of trilinte money yearly. Austria, 
France, Great Britain, Italv, Prussia, 



Turkey, and Russia were the nations 
recognizing and welcoming Roumania to 
the world's familv. 

In a previous chapter I have spoken 
of the national representation. The 
election of senators by two colleges 
composed exclusively of persons having 
large fortunes is perhaps open to 
criticism ; and it might have been as 
well to have given universal suffrage in 
its unadulterated form to the whole 
jieople, instead of compelling those who 
only pay small taxes to be content with 
inferior facilities for I'xpressing their 
clioice. The King is of coui-se invio- 
late ; the eight ministers are responsible 
to the country; and, judging from the 
very free criticisms which I heard made 
upon their most innocent actions, each 
of them earns his salary, which is twelve 
thousand francs (twenty-four hundred 
dollars) yearly. All Roumania is di- 
vided into thirty-three judicial districts. 
presided over by prefects, and these 
districts are subdivided into one hun- 
dred and sixty-four wards, which in turn 
aji'e piu'titioned into two thousand and 
eighty parishes. 

King Cluii-les, a German of the best 
tyi)c, • — lirave, cultured, and sympa- 
thetic, — good-humoredly studied the 
Roumanian language, and finally be- 
came master of it. This flattered his 
new sul)jects, to whom he has attached 
himself in many other ways. In bSGl) 
he married the present queen, Eliza- 
beth, of German birth ; and she also 
had the talent to make herself beloved. 
She has a<lopted the national costume 
— which, by the way, is exceedingly 
beautiful — as her dress on state occa- 
sions, groups the beauty and fashion 
of the land around iier, has given a 
healthy check to the absenteeism which 
was fast making a second Ireland of 
Roumania ; and iu the terrible days of 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



737 



1877, when the army w;is fighting the 
Turks, she worked nnweariedly in the 
hospitals, inspiring all other ladies liy 
her example. 

The palace in which King Charles 
resides in winter is a large mansion, 
almost \vholl\- devoid of I'xterior orna- 
ment. AVhen the Ban Constantino 
Goleseo was building it, at the begin- 
ning of this century, his father came to 
examine it, and remarked, '• My son, 
you are foolish to build sucli enormous 
rooms : j'ou can never light tiiom." 
"Father," answered Constantine, who 
foresaw many other things besides the 
introduction of gas into Roumania, " I 
am building for the future." 

Goleseo was a noble patriot, and 
really laid the fouudaticjns of tiie ■■ Rou- 
manian Renaissance." The national in- 
dependence was born and nourislied in 
this sombre old palace. Cotroceni, tlie 
summer residence of royalty, was once a 
monastery. It is more than two cen- 
turies old, and owes its origin to tlie 
following circumstances : Two powerful 
families, the Cantacuzeues and the 
Ghikas, were at deadly enmity, and 
Cherban Cautacuzene, tracked by his 
enemies through the forests which in 
<jld days covered the hills around Bucha- 
rest, built a monastery on tlie spot where 
he had successfully liidden until a truce 
was declared. Although the old pile has 
been restored it is still iu a dilapidated 
condition, and the King must have an 
easily contented mind to accept it as an 
agreeable summer home. He can, if he 
pleases, go and dream away the hottest 
of the merciless summer days in the 
lovely valley where stand the ruins of 
Tirgoviste, the ancient capital of Walla- 
chia, deserted more than a hundred and 
fifty j-eai-s ago for less picturesque and 
more unhealthy Bucharest. Tirgoviste 
is one of the loveliest spots on earth, and 



the wrecks of noble edifices scattered 
.along the slopes and in the glens prove 
that there were other giant builders be- 
sides Manol the Unlucky in the elder 
days. In the ancient metropolitan 
church of Tirgoviste is the tomb of 
Bishop Stephen, the first man who 
printed books iu the Roumanian lan- 
guage ; and there also are the tombs of 
the famous Cautacuzene family. The 
leaden roof of the church was melteil up 
for bullets in 1821, and was replaced by 
one made of iron. King Charles can 
reach this old and moss-grown town by 
a railway ride of about fifty English 
miles from Bucharest to Gaicoci, and a 
six hour's journey thence along pretty 
country roads bordered with villages, 
on the roofs of whose houses tlie eternal 
stork clatters and struts. To-day Tir- 
goviste has only five thousand inhabi- 
tants ; but there are evidences that it was 
once very populous. N(j chronicler has 
given an exact account of its origin : 
tradition and history are at odds on this 
point ; but it seems certain that Mirzea 
the Elder, who is a mighty figure in the 
annals of W.allachia and who became the 
ruler of that province towards the close 
of the fourteenth century, transferred the 
seat of government from Curtea Argfisu, 
where Manol and his companions had 
long before begun the great cathedral, to 
Tirgoviste. Mirzea was a notable war- 
rior, but he does not seem to have pre- 
vented an incursion of liarbarians wliicli 
nearly cost the new town its existence. 
In the sixteenth century Michael the 
Brave fought a terrible battle witli the 
Turks on the plain near the town, and 
defeated the enemy. A century later a 
Roumanian prince massacred all Turks 
found in the neighborhood, and a year 
after this occurrence the JMussulmans 
committed such terrible reprisals that 
Tirsoviste was decimated. At the end 



7^.S 



Er-nor/.7 /.v storm axp oat.m. 



of the sovcutoenth eentuiT one of the 
C'iintaeuzciies coustriieted a sii|k'iIi 
ciistle uear the town. It is now only a 
(•(infused mass of rninod subteiTaDeous 
passages, chaotic walls, and massive por- 
tals : Imt the shepherds in the valley 
point up to it, and with hated breath tell 
the stranger that it is the castle of the 
ancient v(')ivodas, and that it is haunted 
by the spirits of the departed. At Tir- 
goviste there are one or two import;int 
military establishments, and an arsenal 
has been improvised in an old monastery 
said to have been fouuded by uo lesb a 



|>ers(inage tiian Roilol|ili the lilack, chief 
of the Wallachiaus at the time of the 
famous "-descent" fioiu the mountains. 
Uonmania boasts another ancient castle, 
''Campii Lungii," at the foot of the 
Carpathians on a jilaiu traversed by the 
Dimbovitza river, on its winding way t(} 
Bucharest. Here once stcjod a n(jble 
cathedral several centuries old, but it 
was thrown down by an earthquake in 
l.sr.t, and has been replaced by one of 
the most ordinary prodiictsof the modern 
architect's ima<j;iuutiou. 



EUROPE hV STORM AA'D CALM. 



739 



CHArTER EIG III' Y-FOITR. 



The Early Boumanians. — The Languajje. — Greek Plays. ^ Agriculture. — The Minor Towns of 
Koumania. — Jassy. — On the BessaraLian Frontier. — Galati;. — National Manners. — Roumanian 
Monasteries. 



TD ESPECT for the genius of the early 
-LV Roumanians increases at each stop 
which one takes among the ruins of their 
castles and churches, monassteries and 
fortresses. There is no builder of tlie 
race to-day who coidd acconiplisli any 
of tlie -works that seem to ha\-e been 
done witli ease in the olden timr. The 
peasant puzzles his dull l)rain to con- 
struct a flimsy' cottage witii tliatched 
roof and wattled sides, — a trap which 
would afford but small shelter in a more 
uncertain climate. Colossal men of 
great deeds were tlie fathers, but there 
is almost no record of them. No written 
account in Roumanian can be found with 
an earlier date than the last half of the 
seventeenth century. After that time 
there was a decadence of the small 
literary acquirements of the struggling 
nation. In the first quarter of the 
present century the Roumanian could 
scarcely claim the dignity of a written 
language. Gradually men of talent awoke 
to the necessity' of a great effort for a 
literary revival. The language to-day 
lias not a positively settled orthograiihy : 
one journalist spells a disputed word in 
one manner, while his rival insists upon 
another ; tlius much confusion arises 
and many comical blunders ensue. A 
newly made " Academ}- " is hard at work 
upon a grammar and a dictionary, and 
romances, poems, and historical works 
have been published, but are read by 
only a verj' few persons. In the old 
took-stalls in Bucharest I found editions 



of works b}' Roumanian authors printed 
in the Slavic language. It is worthy of 
remark that in Ronniania, as in Greece, 
the literary renaissance preceded the 
political revival and the declaration of 
independence. A young Roumanian — 
whose mastery of the English language 
is so perfect that it seems almost im- 
possilile to lielieve that he has never 
been either in England or America — 
has made a translation of Ilumlet into 
his native tongue, and llie [nctty lan- 
guage seems quite as well adapted as 
Italian for expressing tlie majestic verse 
and graiidi(.ise siMitinirnt of the monarch 
of poets. 

The Roumanian is an agreeable lan- 
guage, but it is passing curious. When 
I first heard it spoken it seemed to 
ine that I was listening to French or 
Spanish. I hearkened intently, expect- 
ing to understand ; but I did not gather 
a single idea. It was vexatious, for it 
sounded familiar. Just as I was begiu- 
niug to feel certain of the meaning of 
the speaker, around some duliious cor- 
ner, at a breakneclc pace, daslied the 
reckless sentences and were beyond my 
reach. People are excessively voluble 
in Roumania (especially when cursing 
their horses) ; but a stranger with a good 
knowledge of Latin and eitlier Italian 
or French could learn tlie language in 
a few months. It is derived directly 
from the rustic Latin which Trajan's 
colonists spoke, but mingled of course 
with thousands of words and phrases 



740 



Kiuoi-h: IX sroiiM ami cai.m. 



IioitowihI liiiiii the diulects of tlu/ [n'o- 
plcs who inhabited the countrv wlion tlie 
conquering Romans came. The Latin 
which tlie colonists brought into these 
}(ro\inees was tlie Latin of the centre 
and north of Italy and the neighboring 
countries, wliicii liad alreaily undergone 
considerable modification. There wore 
great numbers of people from the sec- 
tions now known as Spain and Portugal, 
and tiiere were also Gauls among tliese 
colonists ; so that it is not astonishing tliat 
W(n'ds clearly of Spanish or (Jallie origin 
arc found side by side to-day with words 
of indisputalile Peninsular origin. I)a- 
cian words are still found, and tlie 
language is deeply indebted both to the 
Slavic and the Greek tongues. The 
Slavic language almost displaced the 
Roumanian at the time of the great 
schism in tlie lifteeuth century. The 
Moldavians were so indignant at the 
decision of tlie Council of Florence tiiat 
they deposed their bishop, rejected tlic 
Latin cliaracters wiiicii tliey had hither- 
to used in all their printed books, and 
adopted the Slavic letters as well as 
liturgy. It is well that the Roman al- 
phabet was resumed at .1 later day, and 
it is to be hoped that s(.ime time tlie 
Russians will be williiig to dispense 
with their eccentric letters, which pro- 
duce such a confusing effect on the mind 
of him who sees them for tlie lirst time. 
The blindest German type is as nothing 
besides these i\Iuscovite monstrosities. 
The Slavic was long the official language 
in Roumanian land. Greek had its 
day under the Fanariots at the end of 
the seventeenth century ; and so ra|iid was 
the progress of its incursion that in less 
than a century it luad invaded tlie court, 
the capital, the schools, the legal tribu- 
nals, anil the wiiole administration. The 
reaction began witli tliis century, and 
the triumpli of the Roumanian speech 



may be considered [lermanent, altliough 
possibly many of the prominent Greek 
citizens of Bucharest would not consent 
to this jiroposition. The Greek society 
of the principality is liiglily cultured, 
refined, and well-to-do. I attended sev- 
eral representations of Greek plays in 
liucharest. One of them, which was 
given before a very large audience, — in 
wliicli, liy tlie wav, I did not observe a 
single Russian soldier or otlicer, — was a 
spirited drama representing the uprising 
of tile Greeks against their oppressors 
and foreshadowing the call to arms for 
the succor of those Greeks in Thes- 
s:ily ;ind Crete still under the barbarous 
domination of the Turk. There are ten 
tliousancl Greeks in Roumania, and they 
have been of substantial service in promot- 
ing insurrection in tlie provinces of Tur- 
key in Kuroiie. Many a hard lilowstriiclv 
for frei'doin has been rendered possible 
liy tiieir generous gifts of money. Vol- 
umes in (Jreek are occasionally printed 
in Roumania, and theatre programmes 
and newspapers, in the prettiest of Gre- 
cian type, are seen on all the cafe tables. 
King Charles is earnest in endeavors 
to promote tlie growth of literature, 
and offered a handsome prize for the 
best history of the participation of 
Roumania in tiic war of 1877. The lan- 
guage is well adapted to poetical expres- 
sion : it is graceful, flexible, and lends 
itself readily to the conceits of metaphor 
and the rhythmical fancies so indispensa- 
ble to true poetry. There is something 
of the wildness and the weirdness of the 
great plains on which it is spoken in its 
form. In objurgation and invective it is 
so wonderfulh' elastic that the stage- 
drivers of the Pacific coast and of Texas 
would retire from the field in despair 
:iftcr h:iving once licaivl a "Wallachian 
teamster when thoroughly angry with his 
horses. The utter whimsicality of the 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



741 



expressions used, niid with wliich one 
becomes familiar in travelling (la_v after 
da^- through the country, wns some- 
times so overwhelming that my compan- 
ions and I were compelled to roar with 
laughter when we should have reproved 
our driver for want of respect both for 
us and his lieasts. 

Seven hundred thousand families live 
by agrittulture in Roumania, and all the 
others who labor are engaged in trade, 
for manufactures make no progress. No 
native capitalist will risk com|>ctitiou 
with Austria. England, Russia, and 
France. If the government would hut 
intimate to the three hundred thoiisnnd 
gypsies in the |)rincipality that tliey 
must work or be treated as vagabonds 
are served in other countries, production 
might be remarlcably increased. The 
gypsy has mechanical talent, and would 
make a good operative. But the Rou- 
manians say that he would break his 
heart if obliged to labor for a certain 
number of hours daily; that lie would 
forget Ills task, and wander aw.ay in the 
track >>i any sunbeam witiiout the slight- 
est iilea that he was doing anything 
wrong. About three-fifths of the enor- 
mous amount of cereals produced in the 
country are consumed at home ; the rest 
is exported to neighboring countries. A 
bad season for crops and a pestilence 
among the cattle would place liinidii'ds 
of thousands of Roumanians in danger 
of starvation. The country must have 
manufactures before it can attain to any- 
thing like solid prosperity. 

It is strange that a land wliere maiui- 
facturing is almost unknown should have 
a large number of populous towns. 
Galatz, on the Danul)e. has eighty thou- 
sand inhabitants ; Jassy, ■wliicli may fairly 
be considered the chief city of Up|)er 
Roumania (old ISIoldavia), has ninety 
thousand. Although niy ini|)ressions of 



Jassy are somewhat less enthusiastic 
than they would have been had not abso- 
lutely pouiing showers of rain |)artially 
damped them, I left the old metropolis 
of the ancient Dacians convinced that its 
people were enterprising, liberal, and 
likely to have an important commercial 
future. The principal streets are hand- 
somely paved with asphalt, laid down 
as well as in Paris ; hero and there I 
spied a mansion of which Fifth Avenue 
or Beacon street might be proud ; and 
the public buildings were models of so- 
lidity and comfort. The hotels do not 
merit the same compliment. I thought 
the court-yard of the inn at Jassy the 
most uninviting place I had ever entered 
when I came into it one rainy afternoon : 
the mud was almost knee-deep ; the 
horses lloundered through it, snorting 
angrily ; some half-broken luiiji'ks, clad 
in greasy fur coats, were harnessing vi- 
cious-looking beasts, putting the high 
wooden collars, decorated with bells, on 
them. I began to fancy th:it I had 
made a mistake in my reckoning and had 
slipped over the Russian frontier. As I 
tramped across the wooden gallery which 
ran around the exterior of the hotel's 
second story, servants in blue flowing 
trousers tucked into enormous boots, 
in red or green blouses tied at the throat 
with gayly colored cords, and wilii bushy 
hair hanging low down upon their fore- 
heads, rose from their scats before their 
masters' doors aud stood bowing obse- 
quiously until I had passed. It seemed 
like a leaf out of one of Tourgu(5neff's 
tr.'jnscripts of Russian life. In the vast 
bedroom offered me stood a mighty 
porcelain stove, — a veritable monument, 
extending to the ceiling, and i)rovided 
with such a labyrinth of whitewashed 
pi|)cs that it resemljled an organ rather 
th:iu a heating apparatus. In the din- 
in<f-i-oom the landlord seemed astonished 



742 



F.rRorF. IX sroRM and calm. 



because the sm:\ll glass of cordial with 
ivhieh the Russians usually begin a iiienl 
was refused. He coininented on tlie re- 
fusal, seemed to think tliat it ai-gued a 
lack of good sense, and presently asked 
me if 1 were an Austrian. 

It is nut Mstonisliing that ,I:issy has a 
Russian imprint, for it is but a shoit 
dist.anec from the frontier of the gi'cat 
northern empire, and ha.s l)een orenpicd 
many times by the troops of the (V.ars. 
As in the wai' of 1S77 it was the tirst 
place into wliieli a force was thrown 
after the various passages of the Pruth. 
fiTim the lieginniug of the eighteenth 
century to the middle of the nineteenth. 
At the time of my spring visit Russian 
ollicers were already there, buying foi'age 
for the armv soon to arrive. A French 
writer recounts tliat on one occasion a 
Muscovite (leneral (in times past, be it 
understood) learned tliat there were not 
cattle enough to diaw tlie Iranspdrt 
wagons from Jassy on towards the Dan- 
ube. ••Well. then, we nuist hitch up 
tlie boyards " (the Roumanian aristoc- 
racy), said this lively General. The 
Prince de Ligne. in his correspomU'iice 
from Jas.sy, in 1788, tells a good many 
stories which do not reflect credit on the 
conduct of the Russians. Perhaps :i 
certain I'lide northern impatience ol' the 
slow, shiftless character of the R(.)Uina- 
nian peasantry was the cause of some 
severe Russian measures. 

.Tas.sy, like Bucharest, is very rich in 
churches and in relics. Roiunania is 
everywhere provided with about ten 
times as many churches as the i)eople 
can use. The forms of religion in all 
sections of the country seem to promote 
the growth of iiinuinerable monasteries, 
shrines, cathedrals, and minor houses 
of worship. Tlie ■•Three Ilierarclis," 
the onlv worthy rival of the massive and 
exquisite cathedral of yVigesu. rears its 



proud front in Jassy. The inhabitants 
tell you with much ein|)hasis that it is 
'■ under the invocation of St. CTi-egorv. 
St. Chrysostom, and St. John," and 
swell with enthusiasm as they point to 
its light and graceful towers, the ara- 
besfpies on the gigantic walls, and the 
silver lamps in the three long and sombi-e 
irwi's, lighting but faintly tlie [lortrait 
of the church's founder, "IJasil the 
AVolf." whose very history most of the 
citizens have never heard, but who, they 
y agilely say. •' was a great man and had 
seventeen children." The Three Hie- 
rarclis and St. Nicholas — a nionasterj' 
built in 1474 by Stephen the Great — are 
the chief wonders of Jassy. Princes 
and their retainers have nuived to liiicha- 
rest. and their mansions, dignified with 
the title of " palaces," \\:\\v fallen into 
the hands of the Jews. The Hebrew 
thrives at Jassy. I had the honor of 
being ]iresented to the [irincipal banker 
of that persuasion in the town, and sat 
witli liim in his office on Sunday to see 
him attend to business. Long-bcai-ded 
men. chad in skull-caps and gabardines, 
hoyered about, seeking his presence 
eagerly, and a group of them engaged 
in conversation ornamented and em- 
phasized by stately gestures was unlike 
anything to be seen in western Kuroiie. 
Poor Jews and indesei-ibably filthy and 
rheumatic gypsy beggars abounded, and 
made the air ring with their appeals for 
alms. The nielanclioly sect heretofore 
alluded to as self-mutilators flourishes 
in this town and possesses a church. 
These jieople were dri\-en out of Russia, 
but have never been refused permission 
to remain in Ronmaiiia or in Bulgaria, 
ill which latter country tlu'i-e are many. 
Wretched as the eiiyiroiis of Jassy 
appear wdien soaked with rain, when the 
cottages seem about to float away 
throiiirji the tall grass, and when the 



EUROPE IN STORM AND C\LM. 



748 



philosophical stork, ciilmly perched on 
one leg, seems to have decided, after 
due siirve}', that it is abont lime to go 
somewhere else, — in summor tiiese same 
fields are ravishiugly beautiful. The 
hills are covered with flowers, the phiius 
with abundant crops. Riding along the 
roads leading to Bucharest, or out toward 
the Austrian Bukovina, one comes every 
few minutes U[)on some rustic hind who 
is in dress and figure almost the exact 
counterpart of the captive warriors to be 
seen on the bas-reliefs of the famous 
Trajan Column. The type has changed 
little if any in twenty centuries. It 
seems impossible that such specimens of 
iuuiianitv as these blank-faced tillers 
should make the landscape blossom thus 
with plenty. But they do it, and if 
educated would accomplish far greater 
wonders. 

From Jassy a picturesque and little- 
frequented road leads to Bolgrad, a 
quaint town of ten tiiousaud iuhaliitauts, 
situated in that portion of Bessarabia 
ceded by a treaty to Russia, only to be 
re-ceded, by the Treaty of Paiis, to Mol- 
davia, and to lie again handed over to 
Russia by King Charles of Roumania, 
in exchange for the Dobrudscha, which 
had been wrested from the Tnrks in 
Bulgaria. The population in this Bessa- 
rabian land, which Russia has so long 
coveted, is distinctly Rounianiiin. The 
men are rather more manly in bearing 
tiian (heir lirethren of other sections; 
they have broad foreheads, frank eyes, 
long, coarse hair, dense black mustaches, 
well-turned limbs, and generally carry 
weapons. But they live in hideous little 
cabins, unfit for the haljitations of cattle, 
banked with mud and furnished inside 
with the rudest articles of prime neces- 
sitj". In winter, when the heavy snows 
cover the roadways so deeply that loco- 
motion is next to impossible, these 



worthies hibernate in tlicir villages. 
They protect themselves from the cold 
by sheepskin coats and huge shaggy 
mantles. The women are dull, submis- 
sive, and rarely pretty. There ai'e one 
hundred and forty thousand inhaliitants 
in Bessarabia, and King Charles thought 
so much of them that he considered iiim- 
self a loser by taking the Dolirudscha, 
which gave him two hundred thousand 
subjects. 

Between Bucharest and Jassy, on or 
near the lino of rail leading to the Rus- 
sian frontier, there are many important 
and interesting touns, rendered doubly 
attractive of late by tiie fact that war 
has just swept through iheui or hovered 
near them. The land is rich with sou- 
venirs of other campaigns than those of 
Russians. The |)easant now and thcTi 
iniearths some coin or bronze or brass 
(iinamenl lieaiing the efligy of Alexan- 
der the Great, who once made an expe- 
dition into Dacia. On mountain slo[ies 
are the traces of old cities whose his- 
tory no man knows, and excavatinns 
among the half-buried walls of the long- 
forgotten temples and palaces bring to 
light potteries, glass, bones of domestic 
animals, stone weapons, and bits of etli- 
gies in metal, so corroded that they can- 
not be distinguished. The earth is here 
a vast tomb of dead-and-goue civiliza- 
tions, wars, and conquests ; it is tranquil 
as the centuries roll on, awaiting the 
signal for another period of fruition. 
At the noted Barbosi — one of the first ' 
places to become celebrated in 1877, 
because the Russians seized upon a 
bridge there in time to protect it against 
a descent meditated by the cajitains of 
Turkish monitors — are the remains of a 
vast Roman intrenched cam|) and for- 
tresses. The churches inGalatz and the 
ramparts in Braila are built of the mas- 
sive stones taken from the walls which 



744 



EUIiOrF. IN STORM AXI> CALM. 



the fldiT lioiiuuis |iilr(l ii|i as iiicmoiials 
of their valor, aud guaraiitees of their 
reward for it. C'ataeoiubs containing- 
bas-reliefs, urns, statuettes, and iuserip- 
tiuns were also discovered at Barliosi 
(Inriuy; the last eenturv. Galatz. near 
Barhosi, is i-enowue(l chictlv for possess- 
ing the tomli of ]\Iazepi)a and as an im- 
])ortant comniercial port. The Greeks 
are quite as nunii'rous and powerfid 
there as in Bucharest, and in tlie lirst 
quarter of this century rose with great 
.spirit several times against the 'l"url<s, 
on one occasion slaying Inmdreds before 
their wrath was appeased. The j\Ius- 
sulinans were not slow at reprisal. How 
many times has the water of tlu' Danulje 

been crimsoned with the bl 1 of 

liattle ! Yet the majestic river Hows 
through lands which seem to have been 
intended for the home of eternal peace. 
Let us hope that with the new era of 
progress will come freedom from all 
liarbaric struggles such as in time [>ast 
have made Servia, Roumania, and P>ul- 
garia a veritable •• dark aud bloody 
ground " in Etn'oiie. 

Bucharest has a fine national museum, 
which has been greatly enriched within 
the last few years l)y the collections of 
antiquities unearthed by the delving 
peasants. At first the "Wallachs did not 
fancy these things worth preserving. 
The farmer broke u}) statues to use them 
for Ijoundary stones, aud the teamster 
who found a rusty c(.iiu while lighting 
his evening camp-fire spurned it away be- 
cause it was not bright and new, like the 
/r^H. and bdni — the Roumanian francs and 
centimes — of the present day. An 
eminent archa'cjlogist, named ( )dobesco, 
who has written nuich on the snbje<-t of 
the tumuli scattered everywhere in Ron- 
mania, bi'lieves that a careful search 
would bring to light many articles be- 
longing to the Stone and Bronze Aues. 



In the eastern tlauks cf tlic Carpathians 
lie buried secrets which were unknown 
to Herodotus himself, and upon which 
we m.'iy some day stumble. If the 
newly emancipated principality is per- 
mittiMl to enjoy i)ermaiu>nt peace im- 
l)orlaiit discoveries will be made witluTi 
its limits in the course of a few years. 
In adilition to the treasures in the Bu- 
ehai'est museum several princes and one 
or two wealthy private citizens have 
rich collections of coins, statues, and 
vases, which serve to illustrate the his- 
toiv of the earliest years (jf the Christian 
era.. 

In all the Rounuiniau towns which lise 
above the dignity of villages there is a 
hn-ge class of persons who do nothing 
from year's end to year's end. How 
they exist is a puzzle past comi)rehen- 
sion. In Ploiesei, which was for some 
time the head-(juarters of the Czar 
Alexander and the Grand Duke Nicholas 
at the beginning of the Russian campaign 
against Turkey, there were hundreds 
of families enjcjying leisure, but without 
any visilile means of supi)oi't. The 
husbands sat all day in the cafes smok- 
ing cigarettes and discussing the situ- 
ation, or reclined on benches iu their 
gardens indolently enjoying the soft, 
spring breezes. Their wives and 
daughters appeared to outdo their luit- 
ural protectors in laziness. Yet all 
were well dressed, and even made a 
certain pretension to stylo, affecting to 
sneer at the rough, homely ways of 
so'ue of the northern folk who had 
come down to fight the Turk. The 
Jews controlled the trade. Tlu- Rou- 
nuinian felt himsidf too fine, evidently, 
to sell linen coats at ten francs apiece 
and bottles of colored water labelled 
'■ Boi'deaux " at the same price to the 
Russian new-comers. In Giurgevo the 
same laz}-. listless -I'lass was to be seen 



EUKOPK I.y SrcKAf AND CA/.M. 



JAr> 



everywhere, and seemed too idle to move 
out of the way of the bombardment. 
At Siranitza, Master Nicolai, witli whom 
for a short time I had the pleasure of 
residing-, endeavored to explain his cir- 
cnmstanees. "The crops, j-on see, 
bring in a little," he said: " the fowls 
a little more ; once in a wliile I sell a 
butt of wine : and, Mon Dieu ! one does 
not need much money after all." This 
was emuiently true in Master Nicolai's 
case, for he seemed to live upon air and 
cigarette smoke. 1 never saw Inm at 
table dunng my visit, :ind it is my firm 
belief that in a weelv he did not consume 
as much solid food as a full-grown Eng- 
lish or American lad would eat in a 
single day. 

Towns like Ploiesci, Giurgevo, C'rai- 
ova, Slatina, all have a certain smart- 
ness, and take their tone from Bn- 
ciiarest ; Ijut there is no solid prosperity 
iu them. Morals are rather loosei- than 
the best class of Roumanians would like 
to admit. Money is too powerful, and 
will buy almost anytiiing. A little 
money will sh,ake an obstacle to the 
completion of a contract, — will secure 
exceptional privilege and honor ; a great 
deal of money makes all opposition to 
one's wishes vanish as by magic. Ve- 
nality is not so marked ni tiie peasantry' 
as it is in the middle classes. Of the 
corruption of society in the principal 
towns much has been said and written. 
It is as bad as it can be ; but the Hun- 
garians and Austrians, who spend mucii 
of their time in criticising the Rouma- 
nians, are quite as faulty as the inhabi- 
tants of the little Kingdom. Divorce 
is easy and frequent throughout Rou- 
mauia. There is little or no violent ven- 
geance practised in cases of domestic 
infelicity. The exterior of society' is 
spotless; and the stranger spending a 
few days among the people would fancy 



them absolutely undisturbed l)y any ir- 
regularities of conduct. Kiuii Charles 
and his wife have always given an ex- 
ample of the utmost devotion to the 
sacredness of the family tie, and as a 
natural consequence are universally 
loved and respected by tlie members of 
refined society in the st:ite. 

Almost every Roumanian town, small 
and large, possesses iimumerable gar- 
dens, whicli ni sunnncr make even the 
ordinary <lwellings agreealjlo residences. 
In winter the wooden houses are not 
(juite so pleasant, for the Wullach under- 
stands as poorh' as the Italian h<jw to 
warm himself, and he growls all through 
tlie severe cold season, which he con- 
siders as a kind of penance. Witli the 
cessation of the spring rains his serenity 
of temper returns. Each town has its 
gypsy quarter, and the types seen there 
■are simply indescriliable. Men and 
women of this class have extremely prim- 
itive ideas with regard to clothing, and 
appear alisolutelj' devoid of shame. For 
four inindred and fifty j'cars the Tsigane 
has Ijeen known in Roumania. and the 
race has madt little or no improvement 
in that time. Tlie gipsies still steal wlien 
they dare, beg when they can, and work 
only when obliged. 

The country is as rich in monasteries as 
in churches. What a wonderful field are 
these grand Carpathians for the [)ainter, 
who as yet has left them unexplored ! The 
crags, crowned with turrets and ramparts : 
the immense forests, which extend from 
snow-capped summits to vales where the 
grass is always green ; the paths winding 
along verges of awful [jrecipices ; the 
tiny villages, where shepherds come to 
sleep at night, and where the only per- 
sons who have ever seen peoi)le from 
western Europe are the soldiers and the 
priests, who mayhap have travelled a 
little ; the exquisite sunsets filled with 



74C, 



FriHij'F /.v srnuM ami ca/.}/ 



semi-trojiieal splendors, wliicli flood and 
transfigure the vast country side, — all are 
new and wonderful, and offer ten thou- 
sand charms to him who is weary of 
Switzerland and the Alps, the Scot- 
tish hiiihlands, and the woods of Fontaine- 
hleau. Oespite the rains which followed 
me when I threaded the paths in the 
neighliorliood of super!) old Niamtzo's 
fortress and monastery, only six hours' 
ride hy diligence from a convenient point 
on the railway from Bucharest to Jassy, 
I rettuiied enchantud with the beauties 
of the Carpathian range. I do not re- 
memlier in which of the novels of Ouida 
there is a description of this Roumanian 
mountani country and one of the monas- 
teries in an almost inaccessible nook ; but 
I know that in journeyiiigabout the moun- 
tains it seemed to me that she h.ad not 
exaggerated, and that her rhapsody was 
full of ])rofound (iiitli. 

Ninmtzo is the chief of Roumanian 
historical monasteries. Its bells rang to 
call the faithful monks to i)rayer a hun- 
dred years before Columbus discovered 
America, yet some of its massive "alls 
are still in good condition. The savage 
giandeur of its site, in a spot among 
high mountains tii)ped with snow, with 
fir-trees standing i-onnd about it like sol- 
eum sentinels, is sulliciently impressive ; 
but the cdilii-e is more striking than its 
surroundings. To-day it has two 
churclies, ten bell-towers, and five or six 
hundred monies. Tiiese lead a laborious 
albeit latlier irresponsible existence. 
The olil fortress near it was erected in 
the thirteenth ci'ntui-y, by a body of Teu- 
tons whom a lliingariau king had em- 
ployed to cheek the incursions of the 
Tartars, and lienee tlie name of both 
fort and monastery, for Niamtzo, or 
.Vi";ft/s((,in Roumanian means "German." 
After the (iermaiks wlio built it had 
passed away, Niamtzo was the scene of 



many liloody battles. Tradition informs 
us that Stephen the Great, unfortunate 
in battle with the Turks, fled toward the 
fortress, but that his mother Helen com- 
manded the gates to l)e shut in his face, 
crying out that unless he came home 
yictor he was no .son of hers. Where- 
u|)on this dutiful son recovered his pres- 
ence of mind, and, rallying his flying 
men, turned and inflicted upon the Tinks 
a chastisement which the Osmanli nation 
remembers to this daj'. 

Niamtzo pos.sesses various buildings 
of more or less modern consti'uctioii — 
an insane asylum, and one or two cloth 
factories ni which the monks labor. 
Not fai from the old mon:r.stery is a 
famous convent for w(jmen, distinguished 
from similar institutions in Roman Cath- 
olic countries by the extreme freedonj 
of the inmates. This convent of Aga|)ia 
has contained as many as five hundred 
•'nuns" at a time, all belonging to the 
njiper ranks of .society. None of these 
ladies considered themselves as bound 
to ghostly yows, and Agapia and otlier 
convents became the centres of so much 
intrigue that tiie goyernineiit was eoin- 
[lelled some years since to place re- 
strictions upim them. The clergy aided 
the secular oMit'ials to reform many 
scandalous lapses from discipline in 
these establishments. Sojourn in the 
conyent, onee adopted, is for life, and 
many rich Roumanian families sacrifice 
one of their daughters that they may 
have more wealth for the child they love 
best. The revenues of both the monas- 
teries and convents are enormous. Niamt- 
zo, which was at one time under the 
special protection of tJie emperor of 
Russia, disposes of nearly nine hundi-ed 
thousand francs yearly, and Aga.pia's in- 
come IS one hundred and twenty thou- 
sand francs. There are m:iuy convents 
in the mountains near Niamtzo, and 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



lA't 



indeed there are few sections of Roninania 
ill wiiicli lliese institutions do not exist. 

In a convent not far from Bucliarest 
a consul, who was a guest for the after- 
noon, was somewhat surprised to liear 
a number of nuns constantly repeating 
for more than an hour a woman's name. 
At last his curiosity prompted him to 
ask the lady superior what was tiie 
reason of this repetition. 

"Oh," said she smiling, "it's only a 
privkihicro." 



"And wliaMs tiiat?" 

"It is a prayer for the death of 
a certain person who lias won the 
affections of a great dignitary away 
from his lawful wife. The privighiero 
is paid for by the wife, and is to 
be continued at short intervals for forty 
days." 

The consul did not dare to ask the 
lady if she thought the prayer would be 
answered. 



74S EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



CHAPTER EIO IITY-FI VE. 

With tlir RiiSNinus in Hiilu'ariu. — On the DaiiiiliL*. - - Simnil/a. — Tlio ExtcinporaiiL'OUS Inipi.'ri:il Ili'ail- 
(^11 arte IS. — The Early Campaiffn in Bulgaria. — Singing of tlie Rnssian Troops. — Sistova. — liiil- 
garian >[cn. — Tlic Farmers. - Manners of tlie Rnssian Army Officers. — Tlie Grand Duke Nicliolas. 
— Tlie Klder Skubeleff. — Tlic Russian Emperor in tlie Field. 

AS I aitproMclied Simiiitza just :it teanistufs, lifoad-liattod, gli)Oiiiy, and 

iliisk one cxeiiiiiii' in .Tune, 1S77, dazed liy the siieetaele of the thousands 

I saw ;i hini? lini' of liiws lihizinji' on tlie of sti'angei's who had suddenly invaded 

hills lieyond Ihe Dannlie and hailed tlieir eoinitfy ; Rnssian generals followed 

them with joy. They were the fniiefal liy start's whose uniforms had oneo 

pyres of Turkisli o[i[iression. the beaeon lu'eu brilliant, liut were now indeserilia- 

lights of liberty and law in the Ea.st ; My dusty and worn ; and genial, amiable 

they denoted the i)resence of the now Jluseovite infantry-men trudging j hilo- 

crnsaders, the stinxly Russians. si>|ihii'allv along the ro;i.<ls, hunting in 

At the foot of the little hill down whieii vain for food, for nieilieine, for water, 

iny rude wagon was rattling a large eami) for wine, — -for everything. In those Jinie 

was located. Ugiits gleamed from tiny d.'ivs Siinnitza was preemiiientlv the 

tents. The elash of arms and the murmur place where nothing Wius to be had at 

of thousands of voices were borne with any price. Food was iiiiite out of the 

the stifling dust to my ears. For days 1 question. The army passing by brought 

had lived in dnst, had breathed it, iiad its cattle with it; l)read was nidieard of; 

<hiiiik it in my tea, and e.aten it witli the soldier subsisted on the ration of 

my hard bread and harder Roumanian sonii, with a hnge ronnd of beef, which 

cheese. I had slejjt in it in tilthy JiIkiiis, the regimental cooks served out to him 

in filtliier villages, wliere half-grown daily. Bnt the civilian? For liim there 

boys :ind girls ran aljont naked. I was was no food, nnless he had brought it a 

coated witli dnst. AVhen I moved clouds Inindred miles, nnless his servants could 

arose aroinid me. Wlien a Cossack pa- cook it, and unless those servants could 

trol passed, spectral in the gathering go half a mile fr(jm town to procure the 

darkness, he left behind him a [ullar of fuel with which to make tlie tire. All 

dnst which seemed to mount to the verv this we learned within ten miiuites after 

Kkies. Interminable wagon ti-ains, drawMi our arrival in Simnitza. 

by shaggy, ill-tenn)ered Rnssian horses, Theri' was a hotel — a va.st, rambling 

wallowed in the wearisome highways structure, with long galleries out of 

which stretched for miles across the which chambers opened somewhat like 

treeless wastes. Artillery creaked cells in a penitentiary ; but this was full, 

slowly forward. The shntlling landlord seemed to take 

As we drove into the diminutive town malicious [ileasure in refusing all de- 

w(> found oin-.selves in the midst of ti mauds. Threats, entreaties, money, were 

shouting, bustling crowd of Hebrew of no avail. liven the stable-yard was 

in(>rchants crazy for gain ; Roiuuanian crowded with Russian wagons, and Cos- 



EUROPE IN fsTORM AND CALM. 



749 



Slicks were lying ubout on the straw 
smoking, and singing quaint songs wliieh 
stirred one's iioetic sense curiously. A 
hatli, clean clothes, something to eat, 
and a few hours of repose would have 
enabled one to enter thoroughly into 
tiie spirit of the scene. But one might 
as well have asked for the moon or the 
chaste Pleiades or the soothing Orion. 

In sheer desperation I went with my 
companion, while the servants prose- 
cuted their search for bed and l)()ard, 
to the long plateau near the Danube 
shore. The moon had arisen, and en- 
abled us to see the great silent river 
flowing steadily and majestically past 
the islands and the steep banks oppo- 
site, as serene as if no gi'eat battle had 
ever been fought near it. A long line 
of gleams indicated the position of the 
bridge of boats established after the 
Turks iiad been driven from the hills 
of Sistova. Numerous correspondents 
of English and French newsjiapers who 
presently joined us said that on the Bul- 
garian bank abundant food and excel- 
lent wine were to be found. This was 
aggravation. We sighed for the prom- 
ised laud, speut the night in a wretched 
apolog)' for a chamber infested by 
fleas and other small vermin, and awoke 
next morning unrefreshed. We then 
presented ourselves at the Imperial head- 
quarters. 

In a large enclosure on a bluff near 
the Danube majesty and authority' had 
pitched their tents, and directly oppo- 
site them were numerous ambulances, 
in which laj' the lirave fellows wounded 
in the attack on Sistova. Grand duke, 
high officer of justice, and prince, gen- 
erals of division and aides-de-camp were 
lodged under canvas covers, beneath 
which the dust cruelly crept. By da}- 
the sun scorched the unhappy crusad- 
ers ; by night a cold wiud blew from the 



river and chilled them. The Czarof all the 
Russias slept in a disused hospital and 
ate his dinner in a marquee. Sometimes 
the dust was half an inch thick on the 
plates on the Imperial table. At uoon 
lunch was served for all gentlemen at- 
tached to the head-quarters ; in the even- 
ing the Emperor selected his guests. The 
foreign military attacMs, the journalists, 
and the artists set up their tents and 
shifted for themselves. They longed for 
the deliTiite advance into Bulgaria, for 
inaction and privation together were 
simply intolerable. . 

Every day, over the poorly traced 
highway leading from Giurgevo to Sim- 
nitza. came thousands of troops, grimly 
bending to their work, setting their faces^ 
sternly to the East. We never tired of 
watching the solid infantry-meu as tiiey 
plodded by, now answering the saluta- 
tion of a General with a shout which 
made one's heart beat faster than usual, 
now smging almost reverently in chorus. 
The Cossacks were our chief delight. 
Dust and fatigue seemed to have no 
power to clioke the harmony which welled 
up melodiously, as from the pipes of a 
mighty organ, whenever a Cossack reg- 
iment halted. On they came, now at 
dawn, now at dusk, thousands of lithe, 
sinewy, square-faced, long-haired youth, 
with shrewd twinkling eyes, small hands 
and feet, nerves of steel, and gestures full 
of utmost earnestness. The leader of 
each squadron usuallj- "lined" the hymn 
or ballad which was sung. Behind him 
hundreds of voices took up the chorus, 
and prolonged it until the heavens seemed 
filled with sweet notes. Sometimes the 
singers recited the exploits of an an- 
cient hetmau of their tribes ; sometimes 
an exquisite and tender sentiment of 
melancholy pervaded their song — a 
longing for home, for kindred, for balie 
and wife ; sometimes a rude worship per- 



T')!) EUROVE IX sroini and calm. 

lueat-erl every note. From the camps of that visits to Sistova were allowed and 

these stout fellows, who are the eyes and ihat the road into Bulgaria was open. 
ears of tiie Uussian army when it is in Seen from the Danube, Sistova does 

an enemy's muntry, niijnily arose tlie not present a veiy attractive appear- 

mournful and spiritual cadences of the ance. Here and there a white minaret 

•'Evening Prater," followed liy the lius- gleams in the sun ; musses of small cut- 

sian niitional anthem, than which no na- tages with thatched roofs, colored like 

tiou has a grander. When the breezes the cliffs to which tliey cling, are grouped 

were favorable we could hear the singing with but little picturcs(iueuess. Near 

of the Kussiau troops beyond the Dan- the Danube there are a few large ware- 

ube, and from time to time through the houses and "hotels." Ikit that part 

long night cheer answered cheer across of Sistova which cainiot be seen from 

the wide dark waters. Tiiis singing was the river is quite inipt>siug, and there 

a marked feature of the early campaign the Turk, who has an eye lor the beau- 

in Hulgaria. On the marcii, when near tilul in nature, iiail chosen iiis ipiarter, 

the enemy, inl'antry and cavalry were where he dwelt proudly a|jart from the 

alike silent, grave, watchful, but at night despised Christian. 

nothing could restrain thechorns. Grand, We scrambled down the stee[) banks 

plaintive, often pathetic, il mounted to from Simnitza one terribly hot day, 

the stars ; and when the Turks heard it, fought our way through the throngs 

it must have impressed them powerfully, of Jewish merchants, pushed past the 

In the savage self-complacency of his troops waiting the signal to cross the 

•own prayer the Mnssulnwn may have liiidge, and wei'c liually permitted to 

disdained the (iiaonr's expression of [lass on. Dism<iuntiug from our horses, 

worship and adoration, but his soul we led them across tliis remarkable pon- 

must ha\c lirm touched by the liar- toon structure, which was afterward sup- 

mony and rhytlim. I know that the iili'inented l)y a second and stronger one, 

stolid faces of cL-rtain Anatolians who though, as the event has |iroved, not 

were held as prisoners at Sinniitza bright- more capalile than tlie lirst of JK.ilding 

ened a little when they lu'ard the bands its own against Fatiier Danube's wintry 

of singing t'ossa,cks |>ass ; but whether wrath. In each [Kjutoon sat a hardy 

till' brigliincss was caused liy liatred or sailor, silent, coutentedly nuuiching 

admiration I cannot tell. The Bulga- lilack-bread or reading a JIc^scow uews- 

rians seemed dazed by so much singing ; jtaper. Tiie Russians were wise in 

;ind althongh at a later period they tried choosing Simnitza as their principal 

to imitate if, even inventing a "national crossing-point, for there the islands aided 

hymn," wliirh was at best but a melan- in the work. But when later in the 

choly affair, they always did it in a campaign, in the dreary rainy days of 

Inilf-hearted anil frightened manner, as autunm, those islands had become 

if they feared tiiat the ferocious Tm'k, transformed into lakes of li(|uid mud, 

with bastinado and knife, were about the s|)eetacle of dead and dying horses, 

to appear. men suffeiing with fever in the insuf- 

At last the army authorities, who had ficient shelter of tents, broken and 

held us back, informed journalists, almost submerged wagons, was dis- 

artists, and all civilians who had re- heartening. A Scotch journalist insists 

ceived permission to follow the army that the greatest battle fought by the 



EUROPE IN HTORM AND CALM. 



751 



Russians was with the Danube during 
the whole of one terrible day and night, 
when the river seemed anxious to aid 
the Turks and to carr^' out the pro- 
gramme which Abdul Kerim had so 
fondly imagined possible, — that of is- 
olating the invader in Bulgaria, and 
then falling upon him both in front and 
rear. 

The approaches to Sistova by theonlj' 
Ijraeticable road are wildly romantic, 
weird, desolate. I could tliink of nothing 
but the region described by Robert Brown- 
ing in his i>oem, " C'hilde Harold to the 
Dark Tower came." A sense of fore- 
boding seemed to fasten on one as he 
rode in among the giant iiills. lUit there 
was no enemy left to l)e wary of, even 
at that early date. Audacious tactics, or 
"lack of tactics," as the Austrian mili- 
tarv attiirh(' insisted ujwn saying, had 
succeeded, and at the cost of coui[iar 
atively few lives. Dragimiroff and his 
braves had ])ushed the Turks well back 
tow:ird Tirnova. So we slept in peace 
at Sistova in the court-yard of a pretiy 
cottage which a wealthy Turk had left 
in haste, and which the liulgarinns had 
plundered afterwards. The Bulgarians 
had not been civil enough to leave us 
even a chaii' or talile ; so we were com- 
pelled to unpack our cami) equipage. 
The servants built a fire in the yard, 
made tea, ])roduced a thin Turkish wine 
which the}' had found in the town, gave 
us bread, — which seemed a miracle, as 
we had been absolutely without it for 
three days, — and even hinted at the 
possibility of having a fish out of the 
Danube. But that was too much. We 
liattled with temptation, and, consoling 
ourselves with tea, retired to rest in our 
wagon. No Turk came to disturb us, 
although the Bulgarians had assured us 
that we should have our throats cut if 
we dared to remain in the Turkish quar- 



ter over night ; but our horses, picketed 
at the wagon-pole, seemed inclined at 
intervals in the night to umnch our un- 
l^rotected toes ; and this caused us uo 
little uneasiness, laying wakeful in the 
mellow moonlight, whose beams stole 
even under the wagon's leathern iiood, 
nothing could be more inexpressibly 
comical than the grave, elongated, sym- 
pathetic, incpiiring faces of our four 
horses as they peered in at us. I slept 
as dawn came, and dreamed that the 
Turk had returned and was pillaging his 
own house. 

Many points in Sistova remind one 
of old Italian towns. A crumbling for- 
tress on a pinnacle : a mysterious-looking 
mansion set on a shelf of rock ; a bal- 
cony half concealed by perfumed shrubs 
and fair blossoms ; a street of stairs hewn 
fioni solid rock ; a white i)athway winding 
along the edge of a mimaturi' precipice, 
— these were elements of the i)icturesque 
which w(! had seen elsewhen'. But the 
dark faces which glared at us from behind 
lattices ; the <jkl kaim:ikani of stalely 
l>ort and turbaned head ; the captive 
bashi-bazouk, with his hideous, igno- 
rant scowl, his belt filled with weajjons, 
and his shambling gait ; the timorous Bul- 
garian women, in their bright, neatly 
woven garments, — the women who 
rose up at our approach, and seemed 
not to dare to believe that their souls 
were their own, — these were new types. 
We were nut specially inclined to ad- 
mire the humbli'r sam|)les of the Bul- 
garian men : their ways were the least 
bit fawning, and they seemed deficient 
in energy. These much down-troiidon 
folk were beginning however to have 
some semblance of national feeling. 
They covered their red head-gear with 
handkerchiefs or strips of linen, and 
marked them with the image of the 
redeeming cross. It was also under- 



7.') 2 



KUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



stiKxl ]iv tlie lUilgariaiis that tlio cross 
\ipon the door of a shop or hoiisi' wouM 
preserve it from intrusion wlien lirying 
Cossack and more in(niisitive native 
began to searcli for iiluuder in the sur- 
rendered town. Some critics who have 
been anxious to plexise the carping Eng- 
lish conservatives, who naturally desire 
to place the Bulgarians in as unfavor- 
able a light as possible, have accused 
the latter of much pillaging and cruelty. 
That they did aid the Cossacks in sack- 
ing the Turkish houses in Sistova and 
Tirnova after the oppressor had fled 
there can be no doubt — no more doubt 
tliau tliat almost any other nation that 
liad l)eeu so horriljly abused for centuries 
would iiave gone further, and on tlie a|>- 
j)roach of the deliverer would have mas- 
sacred the oppressor rather tiian have 
allowed him to flee. After tlie first flush 
of excitement was over the goods taken 
from Turkish liouses were piled in oue 
of the public squares, and official notice 
was given that when the Turkish inhab- 
itants returned they might identify and 
reclaim their property. 

If the mass of Bulgarian men did not 
impress us favorably, it was not so with 
the educated and refined si)ecimeus sent 
forth from our American college in Con- 
stantinople. The acute English critics, 
who seemed to follow the campaign for 
the express purpose oi finding fault with 
everjthing, professed to like the educated 
Bulgarian still less than his uneducated 
brotiier. They found him arrogant, [ire- 
tentious, idle, and lacking in stamina. 
We found him gentle, possessed of the 
soft and yielding manner of these south- 
ern peoples, it is true ; but we also found 
him earnest, well grounded in general 
knowledge, and anxious for special study. 
He seemed to us like a young American, 
so well did he s|)eak the English which 
he had learned in Robert College, and 



so exactly had he caught our national 
inflection. Out of this little grouj) of 
young men may spring the one who is 
to jirompt the nation to a new intellect- 
ual life. It is but fair to say that we did 
not see the representatives of the better 
classes of Bulgarians at Sistova. The 
young men who had received an English 
education were generally natives of points 
nearer the Balkan range. The people 
near tlie Danube have been niueh more 
bitterly oppre.ssed and degraded than 
tliose on the Balkan slopes or beyond 
the moimtains. The Turkish tax-gath- 
erer's most ferocious raids were made 
on the fat lands near the, great river, and 
there the peoijle were naturally less inter- 
esting. All individuality seemed to have 
been crushed out of them. Tiicy were 
jealous and suspicious of their friends, 
as well as of their known enemies. I 
narrowly escaped a severe heating at 
an angry and herculean peasant's hands 
one evening because I insisted that he 
should sell some grain from his overflow- 
ing store for my starving horses. He re- 
fused, and flew into a passion when com- 
pelled to sell. Long contact with the 
treachery and greed of the Turk had 
made the farmer morose and mean. If 
he could only keep what he had aecu- 
mulated, even though it might rot, he 
thought himself luck}'. He knew little 
of the value of exchange, and cared less. 
Farther in the interior of Bulgaria we 
found the [leasant, Turkish and Bul- 
garian, willing to trade and sharp at a 
bargain. But in a squalid village of 
huts near the Danube one day we paid 
two francs for some bread and cheese, 
for the privilege of reposing in a cottage, 
after eight hours in the saddle, and for 
some milk. The coin was placed on the 
low Turkish table around which we IkkI 
been seated cross-legged while we ate 
our simple meal, and when we went 



ETROrK LV STORM AXD CALM 



753 



away it was still lying uiitoucbed. They 
were not even curious to know what it 
was, nor did they thank uri for it. I feel 
convinced tliat they did not comprehend 
that it was money. They gave help if 
one's wagon-wiieel came off, or drew 
water from the wells for one, or told the 
route, and warned us against dangerous 
roads with alacrity and zeal, and some- 
times crossed tlieniselves, saying tliat 
they did the service in Christ's name : 
but barter was difficult, and annoyed 
and angered them. 

To be compelled to huny was likewise 
very distasteful to Bulgarians every- 
where. We offered four francs for a 
small kid cooked and so wrapped up 
that we could have it in our wagon to 
rely on for supper in a certain village. 
The good man who was to do the work 
finally- gave it up, saying that it never 
could be ready for five o'clock in the 
morning, although the order was given 
at tiu'ee o'clock on a previous afternoon. 
Nothing awed and amazed the jieasanli-v 
so mncli as to see a plain white with 
tents at evening, and when they arose 
in the morniug to find the camp 
gone. The women were loud in their 
complaints against the Turks in all the 
Danube country. Near the Balkans they 
said but little, and seemed ashamed t(j 
acknowledge that they had ever been 
imder Turkish domination. The moun- 
taineers were ever3' way more effective in 
serving the cause than the peasantry of 
the plain, who seemed to look at the 
passage of the Russians with nothing 
more than gratitiuh' and curiosity. In 
Sistova the peasants seemed densely 
stupid ; in Gabrova, sympatlietic, and 
even shar|). Oabrova lies at the f<x)t of 
the mountains. 

We pressed onward from Sistova, ex- 
pecting that the head-quarters would 
soon be transferred to some point in 



Bulgaria ; and our expectations were 
not vain. At u miserable village called 
Tzarevitza, wiiere there had been a con- 
siderable Turkish population, we found 
nothing but empty huts, and one or two 
regiments camped in the [tleasant woods 
near by. In the afternoon all the fine 
gentlemen of the head-qnaiters arrived, 
half famished, choked with thirst, and 
the gorgeous uniforms which they had 
put on for their entry into the enemy's 
eountrj' tarnished and almost ruined. 
Generals young and old, princes, cap- 
tains, diplomatic agents, and attaches 
broke suddenly upon our little camp, 
which we had estalilished in the middle 
of a forest, and deniandctl food and 
drink. The tent-mattings were littered 
with yataghans, beautiful Kirghese 
swords, — souvenirs of Central Asian 
campaigns, — Smith & Wesson revolv- 
ers, the jewelled rapier of the court 
ollieial, and the thin blade of the diplo- 
matist. The unfortunate representatives 
of Russia's dignity and autiiority were 
destined to wait nearly twelve hours be- 
fore their wagons, containing tents, food, 
drink, and clothing, came up with them. 
So they beguiled the hours with mighty 
draughts of tea, which we were ha|)pily 
able to furnish them, and charmed us 
with those two prominent traits of the 
Russian gentleman's character, demo- 
cratic freedom from affectation and 
l)erfect amiability. These are good qual- 
ities, especially in wariiors. Add to 
tliese an almost excessive frankness, 
even in dealing with tlieir own faults, 
and I think one may safely say tiiat the 
Russians are worthy praise. There is in 
tiiem nuichof tlie keenness of the Oriental. 
They can dissemble when they feel that 
tliey are surrounded l)y those who are 
hostile to their aims, and if need be can 
cajole as well. The Russian has a shar|) 
sense of resentment, especially if he 



754 



ECROrE JN STORM AMI CALM. 



fancies that liis motives are inisuiHler- 
stodd III' uiiriiliy iiiisinterpreted : luit lie 
iias none <il' the stiffness of tiie Pnissiaii, 
— luitiiiiiii; whatever <if his arrogance. 
A corresi"inilcnt (Hiee unwittingly gave 
liis card to one grand duke, asking him 
to hand it to another. The person ad- 
dressed promised, with the most i)erfeet 
politeness, to do it, and did not appear 
to think it extraordinary. 

'I'liere was hut one critical remark 
which some of the journalists following 
the army were inclined to make, and 
that was, that perhaps the.se gracious 
and amialile gentlemen who chatted so 
pleasantly in oiu' tent at Tzarevitza, and 
whose manners were so perfect while so 
utterly simple, would disdain their enemy, 
or would neglect some great op[)ortunity 
to crush him, which would result in tlieir 
own undoing. The persons who liad 
suggested this were not slow to insist 
that it was true when the Plevna check 
occurred, an<l for a time they exulted in 
the prid • of what they w'cre pleased to 
term their lori'sight. Hut [uvsently 
l'le\ na fell, and a hundred vnices conn- 
selled Turkey to sue lor peace. Certain 
laxities of discipline and freedom from 
proper ca,ution oliservalile early in tile 
CKUupaign were corrected when the whole 
vast military machine was thoroughly in 
motion. The rigidity of Prussian train- 
ing is impossible to Kussians : their 
natures anil tlieir sense of individual 
manliness alike rebel against it. OlHcers 
and men are uuich nearer to each other 
than in German or other armies. A 
country ruled l)y a man who has absohile 
power over the subject has an army in 
which the otiicers are often familiar, and 
generally free and easy, with their sol- 
diers. During the entry of certain regi- 
ments into T'irnova a lieutenant whom 
we knew came to our room, and from its 
windows pelted his own men with tlowers 



as they marched by. The Cienerals and 
other su|)erior otiicers are very like those 
of America, in their complete disregard 
of anything like formulas and their con- 
temi)t for undue assumption of dignity. 
From the emperor to the aide-de-camp 
theie is not a single degree of rank in 
which one does not find unfailing, ser- 
vicealile politeness, — that [loliteness 
which has been so accurately descriljed 
as i)roceeding from " natural goodness 
of heart." 

The (irand Duke Nicholas, lirother of 
the Emperor, and commander-in-chief of 
the Russian armies in Europe, arrived in 
Tzarevitza toward evening, and took u|i 
his quarters in a deserted cottage. The 
only sign of his |)resence was a small Hag 
and an infantry liand, which astounded 
the few IJnIgarians left iu the village 
with some rather noisy selections from 
the ri'jii'ii(^'re of Maltre Offenbach. 1 
lirst saw the (irand Duke engaged in 
cooking liver antl bacon over a huge tire, 
precisely as oiu' frontiersmen cook venison 
— in slices s|)itted on a large hard-wood 
stick. .\s evening a|)proached a certain 
amoinit of ceremony was preserved in 
the yard of the cottage, where most of 
the members of the staff had gathered, 
but Nicla)las paid small attention to it. 
He strode to and fro with long, elastic, 
swinging step, sniierintending his own 
dinner, although there were numerous 
servants in attendance. The veteran 
Cossack General, Skobeleff, father of the 
youthful General whose reckless heroism 
has given him fame throughout Eurojie 
aii<l America, had with his cnvn hands 
slaughtered anil ilressed a sliei'|i, and it 
was now roasting in the fashion which 
has been known in the East for tlii' last 
three tiiousand years. 

Nicholas had a face which in repose was 
proud, imperious, and showed wonderful 
ca|)acity for passion. A lightning-like 



EUROPE IN STdRM AXD CALM. 



755 



temper might at a momenfs iiotico Uc 
betrayed by those koen eyes, ordiiiaiily 
filled vvitli pleasant smiles. Quick in 
all liis motions, he liked quickness in 
others ; he rode a horse which it wore 
others out to follow, and was fond of 




GKNEKAL ^Ivor.KLKKF. 

dashing aw;iv to some <listant village, 
and then sending for the others to come 
ii|) witii him. while he was on the road to 
Tirnova. He told iiir with great glee 
how he left the iialacc of Cotroceni in 
Bucharest by stealth, went <lown to the 
DanuV)e, and had half his plans per- 
fected l>efore any one outside his immedi- 
ate personal circle knew of it. He 
spoke English as perfectly as a foreigner 
can : it wa-s the first language that 
he learned, and he had a Scotch nurse. 
His dress was alu ays sinipU' in the ex- 
treme, and while to accept the deference 
paid him by the officers who surround 
him seemed second nature to one bred to 
it, he would not receive it from strangers, 



and even disliked to be called hy his title. 
On the whole he had the strength of 
character and line sense of honor wliich 
are the family traits, with a winsome, fas- 
cinating manner added to them. Of his 
abilities as a military connnander the 
world has been alile to judge. Althcjugh 
he was surrounded by competent advisers, 
he was nevertheless entitled to nnieh 
credit for the successes which the 12 us- 
sians, in the face of tremendous ob- 
stacles, finall}' achieved. 

']"hc Russian Imperial family found 
ilsclf in an exceedingly dillicult position 
in 1877. Forced by the enthusiastic 
agitators of Moscow toward a war which 
nuist of necessity be long and bloody, 
the^' entered into the campaign almost 
with reluctance; but once engased in it, 
the Emperor and the Grand Dukes all 
showed their willingness to share the 
perils and many of the piivations which 
fell to the lot of the huml)ler, and were 
active from the time of the cross- 
ing into Bidgaria at Simnitza until the 
surrender of Osuian at Plevna. Al- 
though the Czar was for much of the 
time in delicate health, he refused to 
(piit the field, and remained in fever- 
ridden Riela long after it seemed dan- 
gerous in the extreme for him to stay. 
An engineer oflicer of the United Stati>s 
army who spent some time in the 
Russian cam[is informed me that the 
Imperiid Majesty of all the Rus- 
sias was more indiffercntlv lodu'ed at 
Biela than an American Colonel would 
be during an expedition on the plains. 
The kitchen of majesty was doubtless 
better served than that of the com- 
mon soldier, but the clouds of dust, 
the draughts of air, the all but intol- 
erable smells, the occasional invading 
seoipion and the innumerable inquisi- 
tive bugs respected Czar uo whit more 
than Cossack. 



756 



EUROPE L\ STORM AND CALM. 



CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX. 

General RadetzUy. — Russians on the Marcli. — 1 iiCantry-Men. — Cossacks. — Dra^rimirofl'. — In Camp. — 
Reccplion of the Liberating Russians hy the Bulgarians. — Enthusiasm of the Women and Children. 

Welcome by the Monks and Piiesta — The Defile beside the Yantra. — The Arrival .at Tirnova. — 

Triumphal Procession. — The Gr.and Duke Nicholas in Church. — The Picturesque City on the 
Yantra. — The Greek Ladies. — Fugitives from Eski Zaghra. 



FINDING that the Eighth cori.h., 
iiiuk-r command of General Hu- 
(letzky, had Ijl'lmi oidored to pusli lV)rwaid 
as rai)idly a.s possilile into the iLiterior of 
lUilgaria, we V'ined uur foitiine.s to the 
staff of this brave fiagmeut of the Rus- 
sian army, — a fragment destined to be 
soernelly tried, and so severely punished 
in the raiiipaign. Tlie grand diieal staff 
was dillieiilt to find after five o'clock in 
the morning : it vanished, and we were 
compelled either to follow it across fields 
.i.nd over by-roads at a ventm-e, or to 
journey with the staff of one of the 
corps. We preferred the latter course. 
Two or thnie days' marches through a 
rolling country, where the crojis were 
already in splenilid condition, and where 
;i few petisaiits had gathered couragi' to 
reappear in the fields, brought us tt> a 
picturesque region where hills were 
loftier, fields were, if p<wsible, more 
fertile, than in the Danul^e basin, and 
the men tuid the women were of nobler 
type than those l)y tlie river-side. Long 
before dawn a stout l)and of Cossacks 
started and rode carefully and diligently 
over the whole route of the day's inarch. 
They penetrated to all the villages on 
tlie right or left. )iiirsued roving bands 
of bashi-bazouks if any were to be 
found, and reported by faithful couriers 
to the General commanding the corps. 

By six the infantry was on the inarch, 
iiiovine forward with slow, deliberate 



step, as if determined to expend as little 
force as possible. Tiieu followed artil- 
lery ; next miles on miles of wagons, 
for the liaggage-train even of a Russian 
army corps or of a battalion is of phe- 
nomenal size in comparison with those 
in other ai'mies. The ambulances and 
a small rear-guard came lumbering 
behind. This marching column was 
usually so long drawn out, so very thin, 
that it would have been cut in two a 
dozen times daily had the Turks had 
any effective regular or irregular cavalry. 
A few horsemen on the brow of a hill at 
right or left sometimes produced an ex- 
cellent effect : the column, in which 
great gaps had lieen growing for an iionr 
or two, came togetlier in solid fashion 
ouce more. ISiit the Turks never im- 
[iroved their advantages in a single 
instance. The bashi-bazouks were too 
cowardly: they desired to fight only 
when they were certain of incurring 
small |)ersonal risk ; and a dash into tlie 
middle of a marching column had a 
spice of adventure in it which they did 
not reli>ii. 

With but very short intervals for re- 
jiose tlie troops usually marched until 
noon, and sometimes, if water were not 
readily to be had, until three o'clock. 
The ollicers said but little, generally 
gave their commands in low voices, and 
used tlieir own discretion in allowing 
rest. If the sun were very hot and no 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



757 



air were stirring — n, terrible trial in a 
treeless country — a halt would be ordered 
and company after company would 
throw itself on the ground with that feel- 
ing of intense relief which only he who 
makes the soldier's effort can know. 
Yet the men were never heavily loaded. 
The officers allowed them to pack their 
knapsacks and blankets into the wagons, 
and to march weighted down by noth- 
ing save their liglit linen suits and 
their guns. We often found our wagon 
after a halt half filled with knapsacks. 
This at first puzzled us, but we soon 
discovered that the proper plan was 
to stipulate for the carriage of a cer- 
tain number. The others were promptly 
thrown out, and presently we would 
see their owners stealing up with roguish 
smiles to recover them. As soon as the 
village or the river near vvhich we were 
to encamp was reached, the bands began 
to pla}' lively airs, and the soldiei-s, un- 
less orders had been for some pruden- 
tial reason issued against it, broke into 
singing. Then tents were speedily pitched 
and by four or five o'clock the weary 
soldier was invited t<> a hot and substan- 
tial meal. The use of tobacco among 
these troops seemed insignificant as 
eomiiared with the enormous consump- 
tion of that article in the Prussian and 
French armies. A Prussian Uhlan or a 
foot-soldier has his porcelain pipe or 
clieap cigar in his mouth every moment 
of the day that such indulgence is pos- 
sible ; but I have seen the Cossacks sit 
for hours idly singing or basking in the 
sunshine, and evidently anxious for no 
narcotic. When the Cossack has taken 
too much liquor he is dangerous, and 
sometimes very brutal. It is then tliat 
his passion for stealing horses becomes 
developed to an alarming extent. The 
Cossack, when he enters the service of 
the Czar, is bound to furnish his own 



steed, and as it may often become a 
very sorry beast in the course of a cam- 
paign, he is frequently anxious to change 
it for a better one. But when he is so- 
lier he realizes to the utmost the danger 
which he would incur by any display of 
lawlessness. On the march to the Bal- 
kans there were few if any sutlers — or 
" market-tenders," as they are called — 
in the train, and soldiers had no chance 
to replenish their scanty stores of liquor 
at a merchant's counter. 

Near Ivantcha, a pretty village which 
had suffered much from Turkish rapac- 
ity and Inutality, the Eighth corps, a 
compact little army of thirty thousand 
men, came upon the high-road leading to 
Tirnova from Rustchuk. At six on a 
breezy summer morning we found the 
veteran Radetzky seated on a rock at the 
summit of one of the tumuli, or obser- 
vation-mounds, to be founil everywhere 
in Bulgaria. The long lines of infantry 
were slowly defiling below, and from the 
throats of the men of each battalion as 
it passed the point of observation came 
a loud cry of "• Morning ! " in answer to 
the friendly " Morning, brothers ! " of the 
General. Radetzky is a tranquil, ea.sy- 
2oing commander of the old school ; he 
takes every event in the most matter of- 
fact way, seems utterly devoid of energy 
until the very last moment, when he 
summons it, does just the riglit tiling, 
and acts with marvellous celerity, as he 
did at the time of Suleiman Pacha's furi- 
ous attack on the positions in the Shipka 
Pass. In appearance he is more like 
a good bourgeois shopkeeper than like 
a general ; stretches himself with the 
utmost unconcern on a carpet in camp ; 
tosses off a dozen huge bumpers of scald- 
ing tea ; smiles at the name of Turk ; 
crosses himself as devoutly as do any of 
the Cossacks, and inspires every one who 
comes into contact with him with genuine 



758 



EUROrr. IX STORM A\l) CALM. 



nffet-tion. His chief of staff. Diinitri- 
owslii, n veteran of Central Asinn eam- 
paigns, bestrode a Kirjjcliese horse, which 
had faithfully home him in more th:iii 
lifteeii thousand miles of camiiaigning. 
To see tliese two amiable gentlemen rid- 
ing .sloulv .across lields together one 
would never fancv them to be soldiers ; 
yet both were valiant in the highest de- 
gree at Sliipka. Tlie chief of staff was 
dangerously wounded there, while Ka- 
detzky I'ushed into the light as impul- 
sively as a l)oy of twenty, and reiielleil 
forces largely outnumbering his own. 

Krom this high mound in the centi'e 
of a liroad plain, where General Radetz- 
kv had installed himself, we could see 
a thin white line mo\ing slowly along 
the road I wo or three miles away, and 
pi'cseidlv Ihe morning sun Hashed upon 
tlie tops of ten thousanil polished gim- 
barrels witli dazzling splendor. < )ut of 
this blinding ligiit suddenly rode. [i<jnnd- 
ing vigorously on his sturdy charger along 
tlie hard turn|)ike, and followed by a 
rakish-looking detachment of Cossacks, 
(reneral DragimirofT, the heio of the 
light before .Sistova and connnander of 
a division of the famous fighting Eighth. 
Dragimirofl" is a man of mark in Russia ; 
he is the disciple of the great Snwar- 
row. who made the Russian soldier, 
and who gave him the thousand maxims 
for military conduct, filled with coniinon 
sense and manly feeling, which one 
hears in the ranks. Before Siiwarrow 
the Russian soldier was a machine ; now 
he is a man. General Dragimiroff is a 
handsome gentleman of elegant dejiorl- 
ment. a little [last tlio prime of life : now 
and thru, whi'ii he puts on his S[iectacles 
and begins a discussion on tactics, lie 
seems the least bit like a school-master, 
but when he is in the sadille. surrounded 
liy otlicers and rattling toward an en- 
gairement. he looks everv iueh a soldier. 



He is dark comi)lexioned, of medium 
height; time has taken tribute of his 
hair, but has not abated his energy. 
His oriler of the day lor the conduct (<f 
the troops who were detailed to cross the 
Danube in front of Sistova was tilled 
with the same brief, incisive instructions 
which Suwarrow was so fond of giving. 
The most noteworthy thing in this order 
was the command to the soldiers to listen 
to no signal of retreat under any circnm- 
stances whatever. The dnt}' plainly al- 
lotted them wa.s to take .Sistova and the 
positions dominating the point at which 
the Russian engineers wished to con- 
struct their bridge — to take and hold 
these points, or to perish in the attcmipt. 
General Dragimiroff was justly [n-oud of 
his acliievement, and as he threw him- 
self from his horse on that lovely July 
morning and scrambled up the mound to 
greet his (■eneral, he did not realize that 
weary weeks in lios[»ital were soon to be 
his portion. He was disaliled at .Shi|)ka 
liv a si'vere leg woinul iluring .Suleiman's 
attack. 

At our left, and |)erhaps two miles dis- 
tant, arose a steep and thinly wooiled 
mouiitaiii range, which, according to the 
liiilgarians. affordecl shclti^r to several 
tlionsandsof irregular jMiissulman troops, 
who had hidden themsidves at the ■.\\t- 
proacli of (ieiieral Radetzky. It was 
curious to observe the tactics of the Cos- 
sacks in exploring the country near this 
mountain. With our glasses ue (■oiild 
see llicin trotting swiftly across the un- 
i'\fn licld. their lauce-points glistening 
in the sun. ,Vs they a|i|)roached a vil- 
lage they gathered into a little knot, to 
separate swiftly again as they found 
nothing to impede their prf)gress. Then 
tlu'V came circling and swoo|)ing bat-k 
toward the main line. an<l when they 
were near enough to be clearly oliserved 
we saw that most of their saddle-bows 



EUROFE fiY f^TORM AA'D CALM. 



■)9 



were decorated with oliiokons or (At 
geese. 

As wo moved slowly forward that day 
wc saw villages in flames on onr right 
and loft. Some of them were burned 
by Mussiilmnns flying before the wrath 
to come and anxious to leave no stores 
behind for the comfort of the Russians ; 
others were set on fire hy Cossacks ; 
other fires still were kindled by Bul- 
garians, to burn Turkish iiouses .as soon 
as the occuiiants liad departed. But no 
enemy was to be found, and wo cam|)ed 
that evening in a romantic valley beside 
the Rusliitza river, a wide and deej) 
stream at tliis |)articul:ir place. The 
Turks, witli their usual kindness, had 
left a large wooden bridge intact. In- 
fantry and cavalry poured over this, and 
.soon found quarters in a pleasant wood, 
while tJio artillery forded the stream. It 
would have been gratifying to see at 
least a few hundred hostile horsemen or 
a little liand <if infantry wearing the red 
caps of the Tnrks, but none were visil)le. 
The Ottomans iiad encamped on this 
very spot but a short time l)efore, iiow- 
ever, and it was Iielieved that they could 
not be far away. 

The Grand Duke slept in the tiny vil- 
lage of Palikvast, twenty minutes' g.al- 
lop from our c:imp, th.at night, and next 
morning i)rei>ared for his triumphal entry 
into Tiruova. Our Eighth corps marched 
merrily over tiic iiills and through the 
dee[) vmIos until it came to a small toivn 
just at the entrance of flic magnificent 
defile at the opi)osite end of which Tir- 
uova is situated. Here the inhabitants 
were assembled, dressed in their best 
attire, the women and girls wearing gold 
and silver ornaments, whicli tliey liad 
rareh' dared to put on tnider Turkish 
rule. A lialf-smothered cry of adniii-a- 
tion and joy burst from the hundreds 
assembled from all the country-places 



near by as the staff entered the 
village. Flowers were handed to the 
horsemen. Little maidens modestly and 
timidly proffered fruit and bread. The 
village priests with tear-stained faces 
stood holding the lioly (lainted images 
of the saints and muttering words of 
praise and consolation. A lusty youth, 
aiipoiuted to ring the chimes on a musi- 
cally timed bar of steel, which had been 
extemporized to serve instead of the bells 
so sternly forbidden by the Turkish op- 
pressors, rang and danced, and laughed 
and wept alternately as he danced and 
rang. The women clasped their ciiildren 
to their breasts with fierce and proud ca- 
resses, .and cried as if their hearts would 
burst for joy. From tiie wooden-gr.ated 
window of a room in the khan of the 
iiamlet two Turkish prisoners — turbaued 
Mussulmans, who would have been ven- 
erable had it not been for the horrible 
atrocities of which they were convicted 
— glared out mion the arriving troops 
with a dull, ho|)elcss ferocity. One of 
tiiese ancient niHians had lieen twice lib- 
erated on account of his great age, but 
the second time he fell into an uncontrol- 
lable fury, spat upon the groimd, and, 
drawing his knife, prepared to run 
amuck among the villagers, when lie was 
rearrested. The ignoble miscreant had 
murdered several innocent children in 
the course of his worthless life. He and 
his companion were hanged during our 
stay in Tirnova. 

The Rnssi-m infantry-men, marching 
stoutly by to the music of inspiring 
strains, snch as Bulgarians had never 
heard Ix'fore, seemed to astonish the ig- 
norant villagers beyond measure. They 
constantly inquired for "Alexander," 
the beloved name representing in their 
minds the deliverauee. The Coss:icks 
seemed ins()ired on this occasion : they 
had caught the spirit of delirious joy 



760 



EUROI'E IN STORM AND CALM. 



which prevailed among tlie Bulgarians, 
and as a regiment of the brave feliow.s 
came slowly througli the town, lieating 
time with wild gestures to their own 
wilder song, which swelled and swelled 
in volume until the narrow valley seemed 
too small to contain it, enthusiasm lost 
all hounds. Man}- women threw them- 
selves, sobbing h\'stericall_v, on tiie 
ground, hiding tiieir faces, while their lit- 
tle children tugged at their skirts. Mean- 
time fighting was in progress not 
far away. A Cossack captain sliowed 
us a goodly store of richly mounted arms 
and saddles, liridles and cloths worked 
with gold, brought in from a village 
twenty miles distant, where the Turkish 
peasants had made a bold stand against 
twice their number of Cossacks. Only 
the threat that tiie town would be burned 
could induce the villagers to give up 
their arms. 

We rode on through tlie migiity defile 
beside the beautiful Yantra to Tirno\a, 
the ancient ca[)ital of the Bulgarian 
kings, and positively tlie most pictu- 
resque town that I have ever seen. We 
left the trooi)s behind, and galloi>ed 
along a narrow road where two hundred 
men might have held the i)a.ss against 
ten thousand. That the Turks sliould 
ever have been foolisli enough to yield 
this defile without the defence which 
it was so easy to make seems incredible. 
Ou either hand, i)eielied high among the 
rocks, is a monastery, from which the 
old and young monks li:id come down 
to greet us. (lenerals and minor otHcers 
doffed their hats and bent reverently 
for the monkish benediction, then 
[lassed on, crossing themselves. Soon 
we saw the roof of a nioscpie glittering 
in the sun, .and claiiiberiiig u[> a long and 
stony ascent, and clattering through the 
narrow and dirty streets, we made our 
wa^'to a many-gabled. i|iiaiiitly-lialcoiiied 



house, which an officer of the advance- 
guard had hastily- chosen for General 
Radetzky's head-quarters. Beliind us 
tlie street was speedily filled with an 
immense detachment of cavalry, which 
had come in by another road and 
was pusiiing straight on to the 
Balkans. So we sat for an hour 
on our horses watching this human 
torrent as it swe[)t by, and wondering 
how many of the thousands of horsemen 
would ever see Russia again. 

At Tirnova, as at tlie little village, the 
cry w.as for " Alexander." Peoi)le did 
not seem to know who Grand Duke 
Nicholas was ; they only knew that 
after an absurdly ineffectual resistance 
the Turk had fled and the Russian de- 
liverer had come in his place. And 
what joy bul)bled and frothed in laugiiter 
and song or evanesced in tears as the 
freed people promenaded the crooked 
avenues, arm in arm, crying " Hurrah ! " 
as if they were not used to doing it but 
thought it a good accomplishment to 
acquire ! 

When the street was once more pass- 
able we hastened to tlie high walls over- 
looking the valley to observe the entiy 
of the Grand Duke and his staff. Trav- 
ersing the town, and now and then 
following the Cossacks down steep 
avenues, where one's neck was in immi- 
nent danger, then climbing a street set 
upon the outermost edge of a very preci- 
pice, we came to a plateau whence we 
could see a long [iroeession of horsemen 
winding through the sunlit valley, 
and finally pausing befoi\> a company of 
priests, who bore them tlie liread and 
salt of hospitality and the divine sym- 
bols, that they might kiss them. The 
procession made its way as best it could 
to the [irincipal church, where Nicholas, 
hand on sword, stood for half an hour 
listening t(.> the chants of the priests and 



EC ROPE IX SrOR.]r AXD CAL^r. 



7fil 



the somewhat monotonous music of the 
choir-boys. In tliis ehni-ch we caught 
sight of Bulajarian beautv, whicli unsvm- 
pathetic Hungarians and sneering Rou- 
manians had taught us to consiiler a 
myth. Dark-eyed, dark-h.aired girls 
crowded toward the altar to see tlie 
deliverer, bowed their i)retty heads rev- 
erently when he kissed the crucifix, and 
shot bewitching glances at the 3'oung 
officers, who had donned their most brill- 
iant uniforms for this memorable occa- 
sion. In single file the Duke, his aides- 
de-camp and half a hundred officers 
passed out of the town to a hill a short 
distance beyond it, where, in a hand- 
some suburban villa, the ducal liead- 
quarters were established. The plain 
near by was white with tents, and col- 
umns of men filled the only two roads 
in the vicinity. Had the (irand Duke 
dreamed that at that moment Osman 
Pasha was moving toward Plevna he 
would have considered his own arrival 
in Tirnova as hazardous. But in igno- 
rance of any such movement every one 
was ready to declare that, as far as 
Philippopolis or Sofia, the war would be 
nothing ))ut a, promcuddp mUifaire. 

From the plain w here the Russians were 
encamped, Tirnova appeared rather like 
a faery city risen at the command of an 
enchanter than like a town built by 
human hands. The lowest range of 
dwellings is placed on a bluH' above the 
Yantra river, and the highest on a high 
pinnacle of the lofty gorge. The com- 
binations of color, of form, are infinite: 
one never tires of gazing at the streets of 
stairs, down which the Cossacks ride 
on horseliack fearlessly ; at the masses 
of slated roofs, from which the inhabi- 
tants of neighboring houses carry on 
animated conversations in high-|)itched 
voices ; at the balconies, latticed or 
open, from which one can look down 



innidreds of feet into yellow water, or 
u[ion odorous gardens, where the richest 
l)lossoms flourish. A house in Tirnova 
appears to have no foundation ; it is i;i 
some mysterious manner inextricably 
connected with those above and those 
below it, and its cellars and sub-cellars 
seem to extend into the bowels of the 
earth. The houses of well-to-do citizens 
are ample, even vast ; the court-yards 
are surrounded by veritable parapets 
and ramparts. The interior furnishing 
is simple and Oriental : divans, low and 
covered with coarse carpets, are more 
common than beds ; and in the recess 
of a great window, so placed as to catch 
the faintest sigh of the l)reeze, one 
usually finds carpets and cusiiions form- 
ing couches, where the rich IJulgarian 
takes his siesta when the sun is hot. 
The Greek families in Tirnova are 
numerous, and the Greek ladies are 
renowned for their beauty. The I5ul- 
garian peasant women are stately, and 
possess a quiet dignity which has a 
certain charm. They talk but little : 
a bevy of girls drawing water at a foun- 
tain are as silent as if at a funeral. 
They bear pain with great fortitude. 

We had an excellent op[)ortunity to 
oliserve this trait in their characters 
when the fugitives from Roumelia came 
crowding through the Shipka Pass and 
down the foot-hills of the Balkans to 
Tirnova. For days the streets were 
filled with half-starved women and girls, 
most of whom iiad lost iiusliands, 
brothers, or i)rotectors in tlic dreadful 
massacres in and around Eski Zaghra. 
and some of whom had been woundrd ; 
but none complained aloud, and all l)ore 
their troubles with a patient resignation 
which was extremely touching. They 
cannot control themselves in joj' so well 
as in jiain. — probably because they 
have liad in their lives much more of the 



7(i2 



EI/ROrE IN SrOR.U A.Vf> rAI.M. 



lattfi- than of llie foi'incr. Women who 
have si't'ii tlicir chiklri'ii wrested from 
tlieir nriiis by niercil(>ss and fanatical 
oppressors, and buried alive, ean endure 
almost anytiiing. The women of Loft- 
seha wiio escaped from the massacre 
with wiiieli tlie tioops of Osmaii Pasha 
whetted their swords wore upon tlieir 
faces a, settled expression of terror which 
was awful to witness. W^e saw hun- 



dreds of tliese poor creatures on the 
Selvi road a few days after their escape. 
Old and young alike seemed to have 
constantly before them the memory of a 
dread vision which could only pass 
away with death. They moved about 
listlessly : life no longer api)eared real 
to tiieni. It is not astonishing, for they 
harl l)een far down into the Vtdiey of the 
Shadow. 



KURol'K IN :ST()HM AND CALM. 



7()3 



CHAP PER EICIHTY-SF.VEN. 

I'ruvioiis Insun-cction ill Bulgari:i. — A Itulrospcct. — Sci'via's Aiil to Buljjai'ia. — Russian Ajfcnts. — The 
Triple Alliance— Ruslclmk, Its Dcronoc — Turkish Transports. — The Road to the Balkans.— 
Gabrova. — Turkish Time. — Bnlfrarian Schools and their varying Fortunes. — Renegades. — The 
Passes of the Balkans. — Prince Tserteleff. — The Shipka Pass. — Mount St. Nicholas. — Suleiman 
pasha and Radetzkv. 



BULGARIA'S first iiiNiinvctionavy 
moveiiii'ut, ill 1S('i:2, not only as- 
tonished the Tiu'ks but greatly alarmed 
many civilized powers, who saw the 
danger of a general Ein-opean war in 
this uprising of a people siip|)osed to 
be thoroiighlv subjugated. The unhap|)y 
Bulgarians had l)een groaning under the 
f)ttoinan yoke so long, and seemed so 
pcnverless to help themselves, that even 
their kindred had begun to desi)ise their 
seeming lack of courage. Nearly five 
hundred years had passed since the 
fertile plains at the slopes of llie Btilkans 
and the fat fields beside the Danube had 
fallen into Turkish hands ; yet during 
that long p(i-iod the 0[)pressed Slavs had 
done little or notliing to renew their 
vaiKpiished glories or to justify their 
right to an independent existence. 
From the time of the sei/.uic of Con- 
stantinoiile, in 1 l."(;l, by llif terribh; 
Mohammed II., until the middle of llie 
nineteentli century, tlie Turk encoini- 
tered no resistance from the natives o'f 
the land which he had invailed. Even 
the Auslrians had done something 
toward the liberation of the Sla\s; the 
Bulgarians had done nothing. But at 
last the breeze of revolution passed over 
tlie prostrate people, and awoke them, 
as by enchantment, from tlieir lethargy 
of ages. 

Servia had been insi)ired to lesistance 
bj' the eontem[)lation of Austria's manv 



struggles with the Ottoman power on 
the banks of the Save, and by means of 
brilliant and tremendous popular efforts 
from 1800 until ISliO hr.d succeeded in 
winning from the Borte an tmwilling and 
imperfect recognition of her undoulitcd 
rights. In l<S."il the Bidgarians, weighed 
down by the taxation of a merciless and 
alien gover)iment, made a weak attem[)l 
to revolt, but their crude conspiracies 
were crushed beiu'ath the bloody heels 
of pashas and their In-utal soldiers. At 
last, however, the decisive moment came, 
and the league known as " Yoinig Bid- 
garia " was formed. The Servians gave 
it all the aid that they could without ex- 
l)Osing themselves to the charge of par- 
tici|)ation in it, and tlic Roumanian 
authorities peiinitted it to h ild meetings 
luidistmbed in Bucliarcst. Thi' Rus- 
sians were not backward in ex|)|-cssing 
their synii>athies for tlicir 0|)i rc.sse I 
Christian brethren, ;ind [iromised them 
arms and money. The iiited Midliat 
l^isha, who afterward became a fugitive 
from his own c<juntry, was then governor 
of Bulgaria. He siwedily discovered 
the conspiracy, and rightly attrilmted 
its origin to Servian influence. .Vs he 
was known to be cruel and bloody- 
minded, nearly all the young men in 
Bulgaria fled into neighboring States; 
but INIidluit succeeded in securing lifty- 
foui', who were cairied in chains to 
Rustchuk. Ten were hangetl ; the rest 



7(54 



KVROVi: IX fiTOKM AND CALAf. 



wore exiled. INIidlint iiictcndi'd to bo 
luodoriito and clciiu'iit, and endeavored 
1() induce (lie l'uy;itivrs Id return ; but 
lliev with one neeord nianifesti'd a 
sinijidar indisposition to venture into liis 
ebitelies. Vei'y siiortly afterward tiie 
hypoeritieal Midliat showed his true 
colors by taking violently from an 
Austrian steamer at Rustehuk two per- 
sons furnished respectively with Servian 
and IJounianian passjiorts, but who had 
been denounced to him as agents ol' the 
"Young Bulgaria" committees, and 
causing them to bo shot. This arbitrary 
act aroused the indignation of Kuro|>e, 
and the zealous IMidhat was recalled 
from liis post, the Porte consoling him, 
ne\ erthelcss, with the aunouucement 
that he was •• invited to higher func- 
tions." 

In June of IStlS a foriuidable expedi- 
tion of insurgents was ready to enter 
Hulgaria, when the assassination of the 
reigning i)rince in Servia and the conse- 
quent confusion into which that province 
was thrown destroyed the needed unity 
of movenient. The General appointed 
to the regency of Servia during the 
minority of young Prince Milan was 
unwilling to risk anything by aiding the 
Bulgarians Desititc this discourage- 
ment, an heroic little band of cue hun- 
dred and fifty youths entered Bulgaria 
an 1 marched U>ward the Balkans, trying 
to arouse the timid peasantry. After 
two or three sharp fights these young 
martyrs to the cause of lil)erty were siu'- 
rouiided in the UKiuntains not fai- from 
the old town of Gabrova, and nolily per- 
ished to a man, not one of them consent- 
ing to lay down his arms. 

Then ensued another series of years 
of apparent inaction. But the Bulgarian 
peasant was beginning to thinl<, to lio|)e, 
to (b'cani, of inde|)endence. lie heard 
vaguely that tiie Austrians and the Ku.s- 



sians were indignant at the manner in 
which the Turks treated their sidijeets ; 
that some day there would be a great 
war for Christian liberation ; that per- 
haps the powerful, although perturbed, 
rule of the iJulgarian CV.ars might be re- 
vived ; anil that unceasing labor to pro- 
vide money and croiis for the consump- 
tion of rapacious tax-gatherers was not 
the chief end of man. Sometimes a 
Russian agent, who, despising the Turk, 
hardly took the trouble to disguise him- 
self, fainied the feeble tlame in the 
jieasant's breast, or aroused a vague en- 
thusiasm in the mind of tiie dull village 
priest, by hinting at " cius.ades" to come. 
Russians were familiar figures to the 
IMussulmans, wdio knew very well that 
Muscovite officers had as early as 1.S40 
studied the great routes from Rustehuk 
to Adrianople, and from Wi<lilin to 
Philipliopolis, with especial view to the 
march of numcrons army corps, and had 
carefully Jotted down on war maps the 
names of even the most insignificant 
villages. The Austrian consuls sympa- 
thized openly with Bulgarian sufferers, 
and many a Turk spat u|ion the ground 
as he saw the re|)resentatives of Francis 
Joseph passing to and fi o. Those people 
who lo-<lay wonder at the "triple alli- 
ance " have only to review the history of 
the century to discover that after 1848 
Austria ceased to afford the Turks the 
l>oor consolation of moral sup|)ort, and 
was no longer an obstacle to the plans 
of Russia for Bulgarian redemption. 
The Austrians had lieen compelled in 
times |)ast to intervene in Bosnia for tfic 
protection of Christians ; and they quite 
tmderstood tlie motives which led Russia 
to make gigantic preparations for a war 
which might be long [jostponeci. but 
which could not be axerted. 

Piu'ely local insurrections are easily 
snp|>resscd in a country whert' the most 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



7 (if) 



honiblo puiiishmonts may be infiictt'd 
without mercy. The Turks f;oon dis- 
covered th:it the Bulgiiriiuis had dwakeued 
into new life, and the3' forthwith began 
a reign of terror. The tax-gatherer was 
more exacting than before ; innocent 
people were murdered on the i)retext 
that thej' were plotting agamst the gov- 
ernment ; and the wretched Slavs' cup 
of misery was full to running over, when 
a new sorrow came to them in the arrival 
of large bands of marauding and lawless 
Circassians, encouraged by the Porte to 
settle in Bulgaria, proliably because it 
was expected that they would o\erawe 
the peasantry and spread a healthy fear 
throughout the towns. Tlie outrages 
committed by these Mussulman C'ircas- 
sians — fiends in human form — seem in- 
credible when one hears them recited. 
The Englisli Conservatives, when they 
heanl of them, steadily refused to believe 
them, and to this day iind it vastly 
amusing to laugh at the phrase, •• Bul- 
garian atrocity." 

Despite Circassians, regular Turkish 
ti'oops, bashi-bazouks, and all the foi'ces 
at the disposition of the Sultan, the in- 
surrectionary s^'mptoms of 187o-7(J were 
fated to appear, and many Bulgarian 
notables were compromised. With what 
sanguinary tyrauu}' these sjniiitoms were 
put down, the unimpeaehalile testimony 
of Mr. Schuyler, j\lr. MacCJahan, and 
numerous other gentlemen has ac- 
quainted the world. The Circassians 
who violated maidens, and slew and 
burned innocent l)abcs by hundreds at 
Batak, were akin to the murderers who, 
under Suleiman Pacha, after the Rus.sian 
retreat from Eski Zaghra in 1877, 
slaughtered ten thousand innocent peas- 
ants. The assassins who burned scores 
of villages and dashed out the brains of 
helpless old men in the districts around 
Selvi and Gabrova after the last insur- 



rection was l>ut down were the bretlireii 
of the followers of Osman Pasha, who 
buried little children alive at Loftscha 
and nnitilated wounded men while the 
breath was still in them ; as also of the 
Kurds, who, at Shijika and Plevna, cut off 
the heads of gasping soldiers, — an act 
of barbarism which in this century' has 
been heretofore heard of only in Central 
Asia, or among the savages on the 
Ashantee coast. 

Rustchuk, on tlie Danube, is an inter- 
esting although not a very pleasant place. 
I was there two days before the Russians 
crossed the Pruth, and was struck with 
the general air of decay and neglect in 
all the government buildings at the wa- 
terside. On the hill to the right as we 
came down the river I saw a huge camp, 
fortitied and filled with men. Two 
montlis later, from tiie Koumanian side 
of the stream, I watched this same camp, 
and from the advanced Russian batteries 
I could see the Turkish soldiers peace- 
fully manffiuvring, as if the Muscovite 
were a thousand miles away, although a 
hurtling piece of iron soaring across the 
Danube to strike among the Moslems 
reminded them that the enemy was near 
at hand. "When the war was first begun it 
was expected that a crossing might be at- 
tempted at Rustchuk. The Roumanians, 
who had not then found out their own 
strength, quaked as the^' thought of an 
incursion by yellow-dyed barbarians 
from Asia, and I dare say that the Turks 
were uneasy when they tiiought of Cos- 
sacks cantering through the streets of 
Rustchuk. As it happened the Turks 
were able to do little or nothing ti) check 
the advance of Russian troops by 
means of their heavy guns on the hills of 
Rustchuk. The railway from Bucharest 
brought troops to a station called Fro- 
testi, quite out of reach of the Tmkish 
cannon, and thence they took up their 



7()(; 



EIRiiPE IS STdh'M AMI CAI.M. 



inarch at sonic litllc distance from the 
Danube's banks as far as Sinmitza, 
wiicre they crossed into Bulgaria. Land- 
ward, the Turks ilefended Unstchuk 
w('ll, and after nine months of figliting 
no one of the fortresses com[)osing tlie 
famous iiua(b-iiateral was yet taken. 

Oa tlie whole, Rustchuk disa[)pointed 
ni>'. I folt as if I had a right to expect 
more of Oriental atmospliere in tliis, tlie 
first Tui-kisli town I liad set foot in. The 
railway with its noisy locomotives of- 
fended me : it savored too much of West- 
ern Euroi)e ; but the dark-faced, scowdini; 
men standing sleei)ily on tiie barges at 
the wliarves, brandishing bright guns 
solemnly, as if in feeble [irolest at the 
Russian advance, which thcv knew 
would soon begin fli^undering in Rouma- 
nian mud, were certainly as unlike Eu- 
ropeans as human beings could well be. 
They seemed perfectly willing to pass 
their lives in listless and drowsy enjoy- 
ment of the stmshine and of the murmur 
of the great current. They did not even 
manifest the slightest enthusiasm when 
a little tlet't of transports, bringing sol- 
diers for AV'iddin from C'oustantino[)le, 
passed merrily up stream with blood-red 
cres<'cnts on their Hags and with white- 
roljcd, sallow-faced Iiuiuiin!< solemnlv 
[larading among the soldiers sqnattiMl 
cross-legged on the decks. Verily, a I'ak- 
ish crew was to be found abroad on the 
Danube in those few days before the 
Russians arrived in Lower Roumania. 
Many a quaint, old-fashioned Turkish 
slii|i, hjoking like a galley of the lif- 
teeuth century, and painted in glaring 
colors, was worked over to the Rou- 
manian shore in the uiglit, and many a, 
peaceful sheiiherd's cottage was iuxaded 
by murderous Circassians. The nuu'ders 
and robberies connnitted in this manner 
were so numerous tli;it the Roumanian 
luiuister of foreign affairs kept a num- 



bere<l list of them, and indemnity was 
required of the Tnikish government 
before |)eace was concluded. Omar Pasha 
made Rustchuk celebi-ated in IS.'j-f by 
the valiant and energetic manner in 
which ho crossed the Danul)e fi'om that 
town with forty-five thousand men, after 
having driven the Russians from an 
island where they were strongly en- 
trenched. 

From Rustchuk a road which must be 
accounted good in a country where there 
are few decent highways leads through 
Tirnova a\id Oabrova to the Shii)ka Pass, 
in the Balkans, and across the moun- 
tains to the rose-embowered villages of 
Roumelia, and to Adrianople. Gabrova 
is as picturesque as Rustchuk is com- 
mon|ilace. From Tirnoxa the road to 
the Balkans leads across some mighty 
hills, fn.>m whose summits one catches 
glimpses of beautifully cultivated vales 
below. The villages are few and unin- 
viting : the khans are sometimes euliri'ly 
deserted, sometimes frequented by bul- 
locks, sheep, and goats in such numbers 
that one prefers to slee[i in the o[ien air 
rather lliau to undergo their companion- 
ship. At Gabrova, whoever moinited to 
the i)rincipal hall of tlu^ khan was com- 
pelled to pass through an inconq)arably 
filthy stable, and to disimte p.assage with 
an elderly ram who occu|iied the lower 
ste|) of the stairs during the heat of the 
day as well as at night, and who fre- 
(piently was little disposed todistu.rb him- 
self for strangers. l'>ut the [irivate houses 
of the better class in flnbrova are cleanly, 
and some of them make pretensions to 
elegance. The town rambles along the 
lianks of the Yantra, which there brawls 
and rollics over broad, tlal stoni's or 
bounds down into deep i)ooIs at the 
base of larne, black rocks ; and some 
of the cottages ai)pear to spring from 
the verv bosom of the stream. Stone 



Ki'ROl'E /A' Sra/fAf AKn CALM. 



7<; 



bridges span the water liere and there, 
and clusters of houses with queer balco- 
nies and misshapen windows are tenanted 
by industrious artisans, who labor all 
day at the preparation of textile fabrics, 
for which Gabrova is famous. At night 
the rumliling of dozens of water-wheels 
is heard. Almost every house Is so placed 
as to enable its inhabitants to avail them- 
selves of a ••water-privilege." Every 
morning a long jirocession of Gabrova's 
prettiest maidens arrives at the Yantra, 
each girl loaded with tiie family wash- 
ing. The beauties tuciv up their skirts 
and proceed to their work in th'j hearti 
est manner. Strangely enough, they are 
silent at their toil. I found this people 
in the ueighborh(wd of the Balkans curi- 
ously devoid of animation on occasions 
when one would naturally expect it. In 
a market-place the women never chatted, 
and the men seemed to joke in a weary, 
faint-hearted fashion. The same num- 
ber of persons in France or Spain would 
have made the heavens ring Wlieu 
the prisouere were brought down from 
v/ the Shipka Pass into Gabrova. and. with 
their hands tied, were inarched over one 
of the bridges, with IJulgarians guarding 
them, there was no murmur either of 
exultation or execratiou among the Ga- 
brovans. Feeling was deep, but audible 
expression of it was lacking. 

The Bulgarians were always largely in 
the majority in this town of twelve or 
thirteen hundred houses, and the Turks 
had during the last two generations ac- 
corded it certain rights, although they 
had fell constrained to burn it no longer 
ago thau 1798. Gabrova, by s|)ecial 
clemency of the Grand Turk, was al- 
lowed bells in its churches, and facili- 
ties for founding schonls were given the 
wealthy inhabitants. The ha|)py Chris- 
tians had of course placed bells wher- 
ever there was the sliglitest pretext for 



doing so ; and nothing was more per- 
plexing to me than to hear a l)evy of 
them ringing in the small hours of the 
night. Turkish time is three hours faster 
than that of Western Europe ; and I have 
been frequently awakened by a peal of 
bells sounciiiig six, to find no one stirring 
in the town, and to hear nothing save the 
harmouious hum of distant water-wheels 
or the purling of the Yantra. 

But by f(jur o'clock folk were astir. I 
do not speak of the Russian soldiers, who 
were comuig and going at all imaginable 
times. It seemed as if now and then they 
were anxious to make their lines seem 
stronger than they were by going round 
and round, as supernumeraries do on the 
stage. But the towns-peoiile came out a 
very long time before the sun did. The 
men, who seemed to sleep in their coarse 
black caps, laid thein off as they camo 
to the stone fountains, where they waslied 
their hands and faces. No sooner had 
they shaken the water well about them 
than tiiey lighted cigarettes and began 
talking listlessly. Presently they were 
comi)elled to make way for a crowd of 
1-are-limbed girls, each bearing heavy 
liuckets l)alanced on the ends of a slen- 
der pole ; then matrons with their ket- 
tles appeared ; and children were brought 
out and treated to vigorous duckings. 
The horses came next, and refreshed 
themselves leisurely while theirguariliaus 
relighted innumerable cigarettes and 
lazily crossed their legs. Most of the 
artisan class, in appearance lazy, are 
really very industrious, and are seated at 
their looms or benches before daylight. 
.Some of the streets of Galjrova are filled 
with small shops in which clay floors and 
grimy benches are the only emliellish- 
ments. These are the workshops of the 
artificers in gold and silver, who have 
ahvays made the interiors of tiieir estab- 
lishments as poor and uninviting as pos- 



(fi8 



EUROPE fiV ST()h\U AM) CAh.n. 



silili', in liiipcs tluit tlK'_v niijilit escape 
the i:ii)aeity of the Tuik. Many of the 
o'oUlsmitlis hiiricil all their really beau- 
tiful stock at the beginning of the war ; 
and their only fear was that if the Tnrks 
should beat the Russians and reenter 
Gabrova, they might try to force the 
Christians by torture to tell where their 
treasures were hidden. 

Bulgarui [proper, with a population of 
three million one hundred thousand in- 
habitants, of whom only four hundred 
thousand were Mussulmans, had not a 
single school which could be called na- 
tional as late as 1835. In the Danubian 
region there were a few schools where 
the Greek language was taught, but it 
was not until the principal citizens of 
Gabrova took the initiative that the Bul- 
garian school system was introduced. 
Gabrova has kept the lead which it so 
gallantly took on that occasion, and in 
1)^71 had eight schools with fifteen hun- 
dred puijils. The teachers Lad a nar- 
row escape from a cruel fate not \'ery 
long ago ; and the story of the cause 
which led to their arrest and imprison- 
ment illustrates admirably the incurable 
negligence and bad faith of the Turks 
in tlu' administration of their conquered 
provinces. The central government had 
grudgingly consented t() establish a postal 
service, as the commercial people of 
Gabrova asserted that it woulil make 
affairs iniieh ))etter ; Ijut the Turk ap- 
pointed to go and come with the mail 
spent his hours in inglorious ease, lolling 
on the divan of a cofp and smoking his 
l)ipe. This moved one of the teachers 
to reproach him bitterly, and to threaten 
him with exix)sure if he did not mend 
his ways. The Turk at once eom|)lained 
to the liuiinuliinn, the local Turkish au- 
thority, that the IJuliiarian teachers were 
all eoniiected with the insurrectionary 
league, and that they were engaged in 



corresponilence against the government. 
The pasha of Tirnova was notified, and 
at once ordered the closing of the Ga- 
liiova schools and the imprisonment of 
tlie instructors. Jt was only after long 
incarceration and great difficulties that 
the Bulgarian community succeeded in 
explaining matters. The offending inail- 
carri(>r wtis not even reprimanded by the 
■J'urkish officials. 

In the vicinity of Gal)rova are numer- 
ous villages inhabited by the Pomatzy 
("renegades"), as they are called by 
the Christians. These worthies are de- 
scended from Bulgarians who embraced 
Mohammedanism because of some real 
or fancied slight of their patriarch. They 
are divided broadly into two cla.sses — 
dangerous fanatics, who were especially 
troublesome during the Russian war, 
and mild Islamites, supposed still to 
have a weakness for Christianity. 
The villages of the Pomatzy are much 
like those of their Christian brethren, 
excei)t that minarets abound in them, and 
that tlii'ir iieighliorhood is usually haunted 
by brigands. The bashi-bazonks found 
refuge in the hamlets of the fanatical 
Pomatzy when they were hotly pursued 
by Radetzky's Cossacks, and if cornered 
speedily ap|)eared in the guise of quiet 
and peace-loving farmers. 

TIk' lialkans were so frequently men- 
tioned ill the course of the Russian 
campaign in Turkey in Europe as a ter- 
rible obstacle to progress that e\eii the 
Muscovites themselves had begun to be- 
lieve great sacrifices would be necessary 
in order to cross them. Each of the sev- 
enteen practicable passes in this roman- 
tic and beautiful chain of mountains had 
been carefully studied at intervals in the 
last fifty years by Russian officers ; and 
it was liecause the strength of the forti- 
fied positions in the Shipka Pass was 
well known that General Gourko, when 



EUROPE IN STORM AXD CALM. 



769 



he made his famous raid into Koumelia, 
preferred to work his way through a defile 
much less known and offering many more 
natural obstacles. Prince Tserteleff, 
the amiable and able young diplomat, 
\vho was charged with Russian inter- 
e!-ts at Constantinople fur a time, and 
who accompanied General Ignatieff on 
his tour to the principal European capi- 
tals just before war broke out, has the 
glory of having explored and recom- 
mended the passage through which 
Gourko made his raid, and after pass- 
ing which he was enaliled to fall u[j<)U 
the rear of the Turkish positions at 
Shipka. The prince, who was a very 
young man, disguised himself as a Bul- 
garian peasant and went aliead, at the 
risk of his life, to make sm-e liolh that 
the route was available and that the 
Turks did not discover the movements 
of Gourko's force. The adventure was 
completely successful. Hero and theie 
the little army came upon narrow paths, 
along which it was almost impossible 
to drag artillery, and now and tiien a 
cannon toppled into the abyss. 15ut 
after severe struggle the column 
emerged on the fertile plains, and, had 
it been proi)erly su[i[>orted, would have 
carried consternation to the gates of 
Adrianople in less than six weeks. 

It is but a short ride from Gabrova to 
the jiieturesque heights where tlie fa- 
mous (Shipka Pass commences, and from 
thence a rough road leads aroinid the 
bases of frowning summits and up hills 
until an elevation of a little less than 
five thousand feet is reached. The 
Turks had crowned every peak dominat- 
ing the road with well-built redoubts, 
and had stocked tliem witli immense 
quantities of provisions and amnumitiou. 
All these stores, when the Mussulmans 
found themselves assaulted in front and 
I'ear, fell iuto Russian hands. It is said 



that the pasha commanding tlie troops 
at one point was so alarmed at what he 
believed was a Russian advance from 
all sides that he put spurs to his horsa 
and galloped away without even order- 
ing his men to retreat. 

Mount St. Nicholas, a vast irregular 
pyramid, rises abruptly from among the 
rollir.g hills, and seems an impregnable 
position. The Russians insisted that 
once in it the Turks could never get 
them out ; and at one time, when it 
was feaied that some of Osman Pasha's 
troops would move forward from Loft- 
scha and endeavor to crush the feeble 
forces at Gabrova. Prince IMirsky, of 
the Eighth corps, had orders to retire 
to Shipka, and, shutting himself aud 
his men up in the redoulits, to await 
reinforcements. It is as incompreheu- 
sil)le that the Turks should have aban- 
doned the eight splendid positions in the 
Shipka Pass as that they should have 
made do attempt to defend the defiles of 
the Yantra, near Tirnova, — positions 
where armed peasants might have 
checked the advance of the flower of 
European armies. 

A superb surprise awaits the weary 
hi:)rsem;in as he approaches the top of 
the pass. Turning to glance occasion- 
ally behind liim he sees only ranges of 
dull hills clad in monotonous green, or 
perhaps fields of waving grain ; but, 
looking forward, he suddenly has sjiread 
before him the ample panorama of ex- 
quisite Thrace, one of the gardens of the 
world, — a land where millions of roses 
distil their subtle perfumes upon the air, 
and where villages are embowered in 
vines and flowers. Shipka means "wild 
rose," and Shipka village, lying a long 
way down the descent on the Roumelian 
side, justifies its name. Yet here in this 
loveliest region, where nature seems to 
have lavished comfort upou man, iu July 



770 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



of 1S77 sncli horrors were cnacto'l 
that the stoutest heart quails even 
at then- reei- 
tal. Sulci mail 
Paelia the Cruel 
swept with the 
besom of iles- 
t r n c t i o 11 all 
those sections 
from which Ihe 
liussians were 
forced iiastily to 
retire when the 
advance was ar- 
rested by the 
ominous aiipari- 
tion of Osnian 
and his soldiers 
at Plevna and 
Loftscha. Sulei- 
man, fresh from 
the massacre of 
wo m c n a n d 
babes, threw jiimsclf into the gorges 
of Shipka, and sent his butchers 
to lie butchered in their turn ; but, 




DILU.IKIAXS nEFKNDING A .MOUNTAIN' PASS. 



although they assaulted ferociously, 
they could not move the veteran 
Eadetzky from 
his tracks. He 
drank his scald- 
ing tea morn- 
ing, noon, and 
night, and held 
on valiantly 
against death 
and the devil 
until (iourko 
crossed the Bal- 
kans once more 
bv passes quite 
as dillicult as 
tliat winch served 
him on the 
lirst occasion. 
Then Kadetzky 
rose, and drove 
the Turks liefore 
him down into 
thev were stopped 



Ronmelia, wdiere 

by Knssiaii troops and were compelled 

to surrender. 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



771 



CHAPTER KIGirrV-EIGHT. 



The Mutilation of the Russian Wounded. — A Convent for Women near (iabrova, and Hul^arian 
Monasteries. — Thi-oush tlio Balkans. — Kezanlilc. — Rose Culture and the Rose Gardens. — 
Eski Zaglna and the Massacre. — The Malice of Sideiman Pasha. — The \'enK'eani'e of the A<;as. 
— Tlie Bulgarian .\rray, — The National Life of the Bulgarian^. 



^TIHK strti'v of the lioriililc mutilation 
-L of the Russian woiuxlecl in the 
Shipka Pass is pretty widel3- known, ))iit 
an incident connected with it will serve 
to show what fierce pride some of tlie 
Asiatics took in their fiendish perform- 
ance. ^Vhen the Russians occupied the 
positions whicii tlie Turks !i;i,d abandoned 
late in July they found a niiniher of 
bodies of liotli soldiers and ofHcers dis- 
membered and treat('(l in tlie most shock- 
ing manner. Arms, legs, heads were 
scattered about, and tiiere was abundant 
proof thtit some of the woimded had 
l)een beheaded while living. Among the 
Turkish prisoners was a certain dettich- 
liU'iil of Kurds, who were asked if they 
could throw any light on tlie subject of 
the mutilations. One or two denied all 
knowledge of it, luit at last a soldier 
step|ied out of the nuiks and with rude 
joy amioimeed that he hail cut ol!' one 
or two heads ; that most of his comrades 
li;id done the same thing, or would have 
had occasion offered ; and that he and 
others carried Russian heads, mounted 
on sticks, to the i)asha, who )iiade no 
remark whatever. I'rince llirsky in- 
formed me that on the day when these 
mutilated bodies were buried, and wheu 
the indignation against the Turks must 
necessarily have been very great among 
the rank and tile, he saw Turkish 
wounded receiving most careful and 
jjatient attention at the htiuds of Rus- 
sian infautr^-meu not a hundred rods 



from the spot where the Imrial took 
place. 

On tlie slope, and not far from <jra- 
brova, is a convent for women, where 
the nuns lead a life (|uite different from 
the self-sacrificing existence of the Cath- 
olic devotee. They are at liberty to re- 
ceive whom they please, to engage in 
any iu<liistiy which suits them, and to 
go into the world whenever they like. 
But a brixid distinction must l)e made 
between these convents tind those in 
Romuania, which are in inany re.speets 
a disgrace to the Church tmder whose 
patronage they are established. 

It has been remarked that the Rus- 
sians at lirst chose comparatively un- 
fretjuented and ditticnit ptisses in the 
Rtilkain chain, in order that they might 
surprise the enemy. l?nt for the passage 
of the main army of occupation after the 
Turks were ])ushed back there were 
numerous good roads besides that by 
Shipka. One leads over the Travno- 
Ralktin, as it is called, to routes wliieh 
conmumieate with Kezaidik ; another, by 
whicli Osman Pasha had ho|ied, in case of 
disaster, to retire from Plevna and Loft- 
scha with his army, leads through the Bal- 
kan range by Trojan and Kalofer. This 
last-named pass is practicable only in a 
relative sense. The bones of horses that 
have succumbed by the way strew the 
sides of the bridle-paths. The convent of 
Trojan, one of the most venerated of Bul- 
garian shrines, is accessible from the pass. 



772 



EUROPE jy STORM AXD CALM. 



Tliere forty or fifty monks live in ease 
and comfort, and cultivate fields for miles 
around, — fields which yield fat reve- 
nues. These Oriental monks thoroughly 
understand good living: their cells 
are fitted wy with divans and carpets; 
they regale themselves with colfee and 
[i(juors ; and on the walls hang dozens 
of stout weapons, which are used in 
repelling the assaulls of enterprising 
brigands or in securing game for the 
monastic larder. 

The most imposing and delightful part 
of the route through tire Balkans by Tro- 
jan and Kalofer is the passago of the 
Rosolita. nearly six tjiousand feet above 
the level of thes^'a. \^ast peaks, around 
which eagles hover, looking down with 
ciu'iosity upon the adventurous travel- 
ler, rise into the air ; below are yawning 
precipices, over wiiose edges one can see 
yet other [leaks with tiieir tops wreathed 
in mist. The passes which lead out of 
Servia across the Ualkans into Bulgaria 
liave from time immemorial been infest- 
ed with brigands, and the guard-houses 
are sLU-rdunded by little cemeteries, which 
contain the remains of assassinated trav- 
ellers. Both tiie Servian and the Turk- 
ish governments iiretended to keep strong 
military forces on these roads for the 
l)rotection of the innocent, but the iKishi- 
bazouks representing Turke>' were gen- 
erally in league witli tlic l)rigands. or 
with trifling temptations were ca[)able of 
crime on their own account. 

Kezanlik, tlnxiugh which the tide of 
war swept rudely, lies in a sweet vale 
not far below the village of Siiipka. 
On every side it is surrounded by gar- 
dens in which the delicate and beautiful 
rose of Damascus is cultivated ex[iiessly 
for the (lerfumes to be distilled from it. 
On this side of the I5alkaus the villages 
have a more decidedly Turkish asiiect 
than those between Galirova and the 



Danube; the houses are painted ia 
tender colors, wliich harmonize delicious- 
ly with the lan(lscai)e ; and nearly every 
residence, rich or poor, has a little 
pleasaunce-ground attached to it, in 
which vines, ro.sebushes and fruit trees 
make a very agreeable shade. The 
many minarets, the latticed cages which 
denote •• harems" in the Turkish (juar- 
ter, the market-places, with their fantas- 
tical ranges of low wooden shops, — all 
remind one of the far Orient. Kezanlik 
w.as rich before the return of the Turks 
to it after Gourko's retreat, and many 
of the young Bulgarians engaged iu 
commerce are men of intelligence and 
refinement. In conversation with one 
of them who was preparing to remove 
his merchandise by way of Bucharest 
to Vienna. I w.as surprised to hear him 
say that the " Bulgarian question " could 
be settled only by the retirement of the 
Mussulmans from the province. "The 
two races," he said verj' emphatically, 
" cannot live together on terms of 
equality such as any conference after 
the war would doubtless be willing to 
establish. The great majority of the 
Turks consider us as inl'erior animals, 
made to be o|ipressed by them and to 
serve them. They do not hate our 
religion, but they take advantage of the 
social inferiority which it imposes on ns 
to rob us, to abuse us as any tyrannical 
invaders might, and to murder us when 
we resist. Even if there were any 
willingness on their part to agree tem- 
porarily to some amicable arrangement, 
they would not long keep their promise, 
and our lives would be ma<le wretched 
by revolution after revolution. In their 
eyes vm are but dogs, unworthy of 
their attention save as servitors. This 
point of view imist never be forgotten 
in estimating Turkish conduct iu these 
provinces. The Turk desires distinctly 



EUROPE ly STORM AND CALM. 



773 



to live liy tho product of our toil, ami 
not to bo in luu'mony with us. Hi' must 
ija. as lic! did from Sorvia, or there will 
be no ijeaee for us." This gentleman 
also thought that unless the Russians 
should leave an occupying force large 
enough to enforce upon the Turkish 
population any measures supposed to be 
the natural fruit of the war they would 
have rendered but a sorry service to 
Bulgaria. 

The very name Kezanlik commem- 
orates an injustice on the part of the 
Turks against which the inhabitants 
■were compelled to protest. Tradition 
recounts that long ago a sultan making 
a tour in the mountains saw a great 
number of children dressed in white 
robes coming to meet Iiim. whereupon 
he cried out, " Nch i^tcrler hou oU-hkUi 
l-pzaidik?" ('• What do all these [pretty 
babes in white gowns want of me?") 
The last word in the sultan's sentence 
became the official name of the locality. 
But tradition does not state what answer 
the saltan made to the pi'ayer of the 
chikh'en, for the}' had come to tell him 
that because their fathers had l)een 
violently incorporated in the Turkish 
army their fields were uncultivated and 
their village was in ruins. I'mliably the 
sultan said that it was all Christian hum- 
bug, and sent the children away with 
empty compliments. 

The men and women in the rose gar- 
dens in and around Kezanlik are of fine 
stature and graceful manners, and, al- 
though the women are rarely beautiful 
they possess that nameless charm born 
of perfect health and proud virtue. The 
distillation of the essence of roses is a 
very simple process, both in the large 
establishments in the town and in the 
farmer's own abode. Sometimes the 
still is erected in the shade of a huge 
tree. Donkey-loads of (lowers are 



brought to it all day long. The priest 
comes to bless the Arcadian labor, and 
to chat with the women who strip tlie 
rose [)etals from their stems. As many 
as eighty thousand roses are often use<l 
in the i)reparation of a single small flask 
of the precious odor. 

The thriving region extending for 
miles around Eski Zaghra, the next town 
of importance in this i)art of Bulgaria, 
was so utterly ruined by Suleiman's vin- 
dictive campaign that it must remain a 
partial desert for many years. The sol- 
diers and tho Mussulman peasantry' aimed 
ospeciall}' at the destruction of the 
churches and schools in the villages near 
Eski Zaghra, as well as all Christian in- 
stitutions in the last-mentioned town. 
Every farmer was accused of having 
given aid and comfort to the Russians, 
and was massacred as soon as caught, 
without trial and without any semblance 
of justice. I doubt if there has been 
such wholesale slaughter — imirder on so 
large a scale — at any previous time in 
the i)resent centin-y. The testimony 
was unimpeachable. Thousands of fu- 
gitives straggled across the mountains 
in the first days of August, and spread 
the details of their misery throughout the 
Yantra valley. Gabrova and Tirnova 
were filled with motherless children and 
with childless mothers. A more piteous 
spectacle than these poor wretches pre- 
sented as they made their way through 
the Sliipka Pass could not be imagined. 
More than sixty villages in the plain 
near Eski Zaghra werebiu'ued ; the pop- 
ulation had fled to the large town, 
thinking there to secure protection from 
the Russians or tiie fragments of the 
"Bulgarian Legion ;" but they found tlie 
Russians already preparing to retire be- 
yond the Balkans. Those who remained 
were nearly all Icilled. The Bulgarian Le- 
gion fought as well as it could for the de- 



774 EVRorF. IN STOh'.V AND CALM. 

fence fif Eski /nglira. but w;is ofeoui'so no who h;i(l left tlieic f;irnis ;it the approaeh 

inatcli for the trained troops of Suleiiiiaii of the Russians now jriatified their de- 

— veterans who had lieen pitted against sire for vengeance hv massacring tlieir 

tlie Montenegrins — even if tliosc troo|)s own du'istian fanii-lalioi-ei's and tenants, 

had not been twenty times their nuniher. They [)ersonaliy conducted soltliery to 

The Legion endeavored, wlien it found tiicse farms, and enabled tliem to distin- 

that its ranivs were raiiidly Ihinneil, to guish lietween C'lu'istian and ^Mussulman, 

retreat, protecting the po[)uhition ; but In the town of Eski Zagiu'a. where tliirtv 

Suleiman's artillery was br(.)Uglit to l)ear thousand Christians nmst ha\-e lieen 

on the lleeing women and children, and gathered thai evening, the mniilier of 

thousands were so frightened that tliey nnn-dei's amounted to more than ten 

|irefeired to face death in the town rath- thousand. 'I'lie C'ln-istinn cjuarter was 

er than in the fields. As evening came lired. that the nunderers miuht see to do 

on tile poor Rulgarians began to take their work. :nid the iniseral)le people saw 

courage, for (he artillery fire had ceaseil themselves denounced by Tnrks wlio had 

and the liattle seemed over; but they bt'en tlieir neighboi's for vears. 'I'he 

did not nn<lci'stand tlie devilisli malice wonndeil were despatched witli hat<-liets 

of .Suleiman. lie had surrounded the and rmle stone lianuncrs in the hands of 

town just as dusk fell (this was on tln' women. .Schoolmistresses were sought 

thirty-first of .Inly), and by means of an onl. ai'rested, and I need not dwell upon 

endless chain of ])ickets maile sure of the sad fate which awaiteil them, ^lur- 

his prey. Nearly all who endeavored der finally released them from a captivity 

to get out were butchered, although a which was ten-hundied-fold worse than 

gentlemau farmer, named Nainnof, from death. Two beautiful young women, 

whom I received my account of the who had lieen highly educated and were 

Turkish conduct on tliis fearfnl night, es- the i)i'ide of the town, were murdered in 

capeil some time after the massac-re had the most revolting manner, and savagely 

begun. As soon as the sentinels were mutilated afterward. The inhaliitants of 

|ilaced .Suleiman sent a force of C'ircas- ( linieli-^Mahlesi. of Radni-Mahlesi. of 

sians. guided by ^Mussulman inhaliitants Bcch Teiie, of Gnneli, of Haghdan- 

— who had fled from the Russian M.ahlesi. po|inlons farming counmniitics, 

advance, but had now retin'ued with the were nearly all in Eski Zaghra. and most 

Turkish forces — to liegin the work of of them perished fhei'c. On the day of 

nuu'der. ^Iv informant was warned to this massacre I rode with Prince Mirsky 

esca[ie by a nciglibor who, wliile in the and his staff from (labroxa to Selvi, as 

loft of his own house, ln'ard a noise in it was then sup|iosed that tiie Tnrks 

the kitchen below, and was almost para- were advancing toward the latter place 

Ivzed with terror on seeing two C'ircas- from Loftscha, and at Srlvi we heard 

sians iiillaging there. More dead than plenty of tales of atrocities quite as 

alive, he managed to leaii from a small awful as those which a few hours later 

back window, and gave the alarm to were echoed from ICski Zaghra. The 

Naumof. The screams of women were Bulgarians paid a terrible price for 

heard and flames were arising from Gourko's unsnpported advance into 

linrning houses as the two farmers fli'd Roumelia. 

together toward the mountains. The kainiakam of Eski Zaghra had 

The agas antl other Turkish notables the unparalleled effrontery two mouths 



EVROrE IX STOini AND CALM. 



775 



iifter I lie iiinssacro to publish a st.itc- 
iiient wliich was sent out liko a diplo- 
matic circular, from Constantinople, and 
which announced that the Bulgarians 
had fallen upon and murdered hundreds 
of JMussidnums in the foulest manner. 
It is unnecessary to add that this state- 
ment had no foundation in fact. 

That the Biiliiarians were making an 
earnest effort to help themselves was 
visible during the last weeks of my des- 
ultory tour in their war-ravaged country. 
The Russian tri>oi)S at that time were so 
few and so widely scattered that the 
Turks could readily have committed 
twici' the havoc which they succeeded 
in doing. Indisposition to attack, liut 
great bravery, [lersistence, and skill in 
defending a place which they had them- 
selves occupied and fortified were the 
distinguishing features of the Turkish 
campaign on the Danube side of the 
Balkans at that particular period. Sclvi, 
a threatened point, had not Russians 
enough in it to light a small battalion 
until a Turkish occupation seemed im- 
minent, when three or four thousand 
men were thrown hastily forward, leav- 
ing other important points uncovered. 
But at Selvi tlu' Bulgarians were armed, 
roughly uniformed, had placed strips of 
white linen ornamented with the cross 
over the red skull-caps whicli they had 
worn under Turkish domination, arid 
were scouring the country for bashi- 
bazouks and Circassians. The least ru- 
mor placed every man on the alert, and 
it was pleasant to sec these men, who 
had been, in the estimation of the world, 
but cowering hinds for long centuries, 
suddenly asserting their right to inde- 
pendence. 

And why should they not be inde- 
pendent? The IJulgarians have a history 
which will bear favor.able comparison with 
that of many small nations who are much 



louder in their claims for immediate at- 
tention — the Roumanians, for example. 
S[irung from a sti:)ut Fiiino-Ural tribe, 
wliieh made its name and fame feared, 
and knocked at the gates of Constan- 
tinople more than once ; which fixed the 
residence of its kings at a point near the 
heights on which the virgin I\lussulnian 
fortress of Shumla, '' the tomb of the in- 
fidel," stands to-day ; and which finaUy 
merged with the Slavic race, adopting 
Christianity and tlie Slavic idiom at the 
same time. — the Bulgarian of the pres- 
ent has no occasion to be ashamed of 
his origin. In the struggles with Byzan- ' 
tium, both before and after the savage 
had become a Christian, and had estab- 
lished a rude literature, the Bulgarians 
ai)i)ear to have had the advantage quite 
.'IS often .as tlie (ireek emperors had. It 
is not a little curious that the first lime 
the Russians, or [)eople from the terri- 
tory now Russian, entered Bulgaria, it 
was to aid Byzantium against the Fin- 
no-Bulgariau power in 1)G3, and to fight 
a battle near Adriam^ple which enal)led 
the Gireek emperor to subjugate his 
formidable enemies. Then the Russian 
prince, who had brought down his forces 
to aid in punishing the Bulgarians, did 
not wish to leave the country, and the 
Greek emperor was compelled to drive 
him out. The history of the second and 
third Bulgarian dynasties — for the 
national life revived under a new form 
after two severe trials, during which its 
enemies fancied that they had crushed 
it, — the history of tliese dynasties is 
filled with records of alternate triumphs 
and humiliations. There is but one 
epoch in the annals of the IVdgarians 
when tlie_y seem to have leaned toward 
the Church of Rome, and that was in the 
days (jf Pope Innocent III., who sent 
legates to stir them up against the 
schismatic Greeks. The story of the 



776 EUROPE ly STORM AND CALM. 

rL'fus;il of linlilwin I., Lutiii riiiiKTor of to facilitati.' its developineut into a 

C'oust:iiitinu|iio, to aid the Biil<i;uiaiis in strong state. 

tiieir [n-oposed campaign against tiiese The assertion tliat tlie Tnil>s liave 

Greeks is familiar to stndents of iiis- never used any (lortion of tlie money 

tory. Great misfortuues befell Baldwin which they wring annnally frcjm the 

hecanso of this refusal ; for the Bui- Christians in Bulgaria fur improvements 

garians joined with the very Greeks useful to the Bulgarians themselves is 

wdioni Pope Innoeeiit had excited tbeni susceptiMe of proof. The road into 

against, captured Baldwin and his army Kounielia liy way of Shipka wa.s almost 

in a great light at Adrianople, and imiiassahle for years, but one line day 

finally put him to death with cruel the sullan wished to make a species of 

tortures at Tirnova, where the tomb (jf triumphal journey to Silistria, so the 

the wretched monarch is still pointed route was |iut in ordia'. If auv m<.)uev 

out. Tirnova was long the residence of were expended in [lulilic woii<s. those 

the Bulgarian czars, and was mercik'ssly works were sure to be of a military 

sacked by the Turks when they took it character, and diil not [irolit the 

in i:")!).'!. The Turk came into a. section Christians si particle. Tin'kish authority 

of Kurope which was so divided between has frecpienlly prevented Bulgarians 

numerous nationalities, already ex- from making improvements even at their 

hausted bv struggles against each other, own expense, and any stranger propos- 

that he had au easy task in subduing ing Ww introdiiclion of (;onnnercial en- 

the Bulgarians. teriirise was pretty cei'lain to suffer in 

One of the bngl)ears whicli the enthu- some fashion. 
siastic patriots who formed the league The great abuses in taxation in tliis 
of '-Young Bulgaria" fancied that they fertile province si>rang out of ft system 
found in their way was a tendency on planned with marvellous cunning. In 
the part of their po|iulation to emigrate the cities and large towns the collection 
to .Servia, and for a long time it was of taxes was conducted with some show 
feared that nearly all the farmers would (if fairness. Each conmnnhty being 
desert to the neighbor state. The Scr- divided into hkiIkiIi's, or " quarters." in 
vians were naturally willing to take which Turks, Christians, and -lews lived 
advantage of such a feeling: but now by themselves, the ■•chief" of each 
that Bulgaria has a chance for her (piarter lixed the amount of the tax and 
autonomy, her farmers and artisans arc collected it. But the unfortunate (leople 
not at all anxious to desert her. Thou- in the villages and tarniers in remote 
sands of stout fellows who have lieen country districts were not allowed such 
in the habit of working in Ilungai'y, favors as this. Numbers of districts 
Ivoinnauia, and Servia every sununer and were consolidated, and "sold out" by 
autnnni will now devote their energies order of the government at public 
to linilding u|) homes for themselves in auction for a large sum. The people 
their native land. liulgaria lias rich who |iaid this sum to the goverrnnent 
soil, a people admirably adapted for were ahva\ s Mussulmans, and they 
hiiihlv intelligent agriculture : and now exercised no mercy in collecting the 
it needs only roads, schools, and rail- money, cro[ihi and stock necessary for 
■ways — in short, |irecis<dy that which it their reimbursement. They might col- 
can never obtain imder Turlvish ruh iect fourfold the amount justly due ; tlic 



EUROrii L\' STORM AXD CALM. 



Ill 



govenimcMit woiiid say nothing, having 
been paid. Or even if some anthoi'itj' 
were inclined to examine into tlie com- 
plaints of the wretched Bulgarians, a 
share of the ill-gotten gains of the plun- 
derers soon stifled the ofHeial's meagre 
sense of justice. The peasant might 
become proprietor of land in various 
ways, although the whole country was 
recognized as being the personal prop- 
erty of the sultan. But whenever a 
pasha or an envious Turk wished to 
acquire a farm which a Bulgarian had 
been l:\lioriously develo[iing for years, 
he had but to signify his wish, and for a 
small sum the farmer was comi)elled to 
see the fruit of his lalwr pass into the 
hands of another. This proceeding had 
1 leeome so common in Bulgaria during the 
last few years as to have excited numer- 
ous indignant remonstrances from Eino- 
peans inhabiting the country. In time 
of war there was no end to oppression 
by the Turks. It might literally lie said 
that Christians had no rights, aud that 
if they had jjossessed any they would 
not have been respected. 

All these things may be spoken of as 
in the past, for it is reasonalily certain 
that the Bulgarians will never again sub- 
mit to Turkish taxation. When I left 
(iabrova a blonde-ltearded Russian who 
had come directly from a Central Asian 
cam])aign to aid in transforming Bulga- 
ria was equipping trustworthy jieasants 
with guns and badges, and delegating 
to them authority as police-agents in 
the various villages in the neighborhood. 
Life and property were soon to become 
safe in a region where Christians had 
not heretofore known the blessings of 
the security which is tlie fruit of just and 
well-executed law. The Russians were 
as methodical and earnest in their labors 
as if they intended to fix Muscovite 
power for ages in the country ; and it 



was ditticult to understand that the v' in- 
tended to withdraw after the conclusion 
of a satisfactory peace. 

From Selvi I went forward in tlic di- 
rection of Lof tscha, lint found that Prince 
Mirsky had ordered the troops to go into 
intrenclnnents, which indicated a delay 
of many days before active operations 
wore likely to begin. As I rode across 
country through dozens of Mussulman 
villages, some of which contained as 
many as eight thousand inhabitants, 
alarms were frequent, l)ut generally 
causeless. In a Christian village, set 
down oddly enough in the very ('cntre 
of a district inhaliitcd almost entirely 
by followers of the I'roiihet, I found 
the whole population under arms and in 
a state of intense excitement because of 
the rumor that a large force of Turks 
hnd been seen in the adjacent mountains. 
The chief of the village had caused the 
arrest of two travelling peasants sup- 
posed to lie spies, and the visages of 
these worthies as t\\ey sat upon the 
ground waiting until the villagers could 
find time to shoot them were not pleas- 
ant to contemplate. The madman of 
the hamlet had felt it his duty to join in 
the affair, and as I rode up he came car- 
acoling and ganil wiling out of a Held, 
stark naked, witli his iiead crowneii with 
straw and wild-flowers, and chattering as 
fiercely as an enraged ape. The insane 
are allowed to wander thu.s umnolested 
in Bulgaria, as in some parts of Si>aiu. 
I have rarely seen a figure at once so 
picturesque aud terrible as this miser- 
able creature. 

The Turkish villagers were civil 
enough, probably because strong de- 
tachments of Russian troops occasion- 
ally passed over the road, although in 
my ride of sixty miles I saw only one 
officer and four Cossacks. Several col- 
lections of bashi-bazouks, guarded by 



778 Ei'RorF IX STon^f and rALJf. 

tlio lU'wh-organizcil ('hiisti;m i>olioo, slowly |:ickinir liis way across the [H'ctty 

passed ine, their hands tied liehiiid their range of hills which hems in the Yanti'a, 

backs and their faces testifvingto a prond a, gray-eoated sentinel startedoiit rnnnthe 

disdain. Their gayly-colored garments luishes near a smouldering watch-fire and 

were tattered, and their amiile colli'c- hade me halt. The ".Svoi" — "Yanis" 

tions of weapons, carried in carts Iiehiiid given in return did not seem to satisfy 

the jirocessions of prisoners, indicated him. Imt after a careful examination [ 

that a general raiil upon this murderous was allowed to pass on down into the v:il- 

gentry had heen organized. Most of the icy iielween odorous thickets from which 

villagers disclaimed any knowledge of thousands of fire-flies sent forth their fit- 

their movements, and hastened to give ful gleams: down to a plateau whence 

us proofs (if their good-will by oft'eriiig I could see the lights oi 'I'irnova, like 

us water and fruit and by saying pleas- myriads of stars hovering close to earth ; 

ant things. Their sn|ierb corn, such as down to to the cnmp. whence came n|i the 

one sees elsewhere onlv in America, had old Homeric hum so impressive after the 

been left untouched by the IJussians ; stillness of the country bridle-paths and 

but the watermelons and pumpkins had the forests over and through which I liad 

all vanished from the crawling vines, just [lassed. 

the soldier linding the tein[)tation greater Meantime the great l)nttle which had 

than he could resist. Iieen fought near Plevna had checked 

I arrivetl near Tirnova in the middle the :idv.ance of the Kussinns. They 

of the night, and wliile my horse was pid|ioscd. lint Osinaii I'asha disposed. 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



779 



CHAPTER EIOHTY-NINE. 

PloTim and its Iiidnciifc on the Rnssian Campaign. — The Roumanians. — Thcif Valor in the Field. — 
Osiiian Pasha. — The De«pa.if of Skobelefi". — Across the Balkans. — The Descent Upon Con- 
stantinople. — ITo<:tility of Engl.anil to Russian Designs. — The Berlin Congress. — Its Result. — 
The T*iTrtition of Soiith-Eastern Europe. 



THE picturesque and heroic incidents 
of tlie Rns.so-Turki.sh war aie still 
too fresli in the minds of all to require a 
detailed recital here. After the appear- 
ance of Suleiman Pa-sha upon the scene 
it seemed as if the tide hiid begun to 
turn against tlie crusading Russians. 
The taking of Loftcha Iiy the Turks ; 
the niareh of Gen. Gourko to Yeni- 
Zaghra. and the capture of the town ; 
the defeat of the newly-organized 
Bulgarian Legion at Eski-Zaglu'a ; the 
retreat of Gourko to the northern 
side of the lialkans ; the fortifica- 
tion of the .Sliipka and the HtiinkoV 
Passes : the terrible atrocities i:om- 
mitted by the Turks upon tlie liel|)less 
Russian wounded ; the sudden develop- 
ment of a forraidalile military force out 
of the heretofore derided and underesti- 
mated Roinnanian army ; the siege of 
Plevna, with its fearful losses and its 
protracted miseries, — all these things 
rang througliout Euroiie, and had their 
echoes in America. Tlie Russians had 
already begun to exercise tlieir sover- 
eignty ill Bulgaria, had inoclaimed laws 
exempting the Christians from odious 
taxes, hart abolislied titlies, and were 
gradually sill istituting themselves for the 
Turkish authorities, when the severe 
check in front of Plovna changed the 
whole character of the campaign. It is 
said that the loss of the Russians in 
killed, wounded, sick, and prisoners, 
during the actions of the 19th, 20th, and 



21st of July, and in tlie great liattle of 
the 31st before Plevna, amounted to 
more than ten thousand men. The 
heroic C4en. Skobeleff — one of the few 
men of genius in the Russian army — 
did [irodigies of valor in these fights, 
lint all in vain. 

Tlie critics who say that the Russians 
liad, in their descent into Bulgaria, be- 
lieved tliat the Turks would offer only a 
slight resistance, are quite correct. The 
Russians crossed the Danube with in- 
suflicient forces, and during all the 
early weeks of the campaign they saw 
so few TuiJvS and encountered so little 
opposition that they fancied they could 
go straight to tlie gates of Constanti- 
nople without more than an occasional 
skirmish. Plevna was not only a great 
surprise, it was a veritable disaster. 
The consternation in Roumania was 
frightful after the news of the defeat of 
the Russians, but this news had for its 
effect the awakening of the valiant 
Roumanian people into an energy which 
they had not even suspected themselves 
of possessing. When it looked as if the 
Russians were about to Ix- annihilated, 
that the forces in Biilgariti would be 
cut off from the Danube, ;uid that the 
Turks would cross the liistoric stream 
and invade the principalities wliicii had 
so long been independent of them, the 
Roumanian government rose to the emer- 
gency. But the Russians sat quietly 
down and took the defensive, and sent 



780 



FA'ROrK IN STORM AND CALM. 



home for one hundred tliousand men, 
who were soon on their way. The posi- 
tions in front of Plevna were strongly 
fortified and armed with artillery ; eoni- 
panies of eavalry were dispatched on 
independent expeditions, with the view 
of blocking the passes through the 
Balkans, and the Russians were greatly 
encouraged by the failure of the Turks 
to assume the offensive in any impoitaut 
degree. Meantime the emiieror of 
Russia lived in the most unostentatious 
manner in the little village of Gorny 
Studen, suffering privation and discom- 
fort with that excellent tem[>er and 
entire lack of affeeiation whi<-li char- 
acterized the man. .Suleiman Pasha, 
thundering at the gates of Shii)ka, 
attemi)ted in vain to disjiossess 
the Russians of their hold on the Bal- 
kans, m iking upwai'ils of one hundred 
distinct attacks in le.s.s than seven days. 
When the month of August closed, in 
1S77, the fortunes of the Russians had 
improved. They rallied from the check 
receivcil at Ple\ na ; they held their own 
at the Balkans ; reinforcements were 
ai)pcaring. and new operations wore 
resumed with vigor. The Rnsso-Rou- 
inauian army, connnanded by Prince 
Charles, of Roumania, now sat down 
liefore the imp(jrtant positions at Plevna, 
and sustained a furious attack byOsman 
Pasha on the last day of August. This 
was one of the most sanguinary com- 
Ijats of the cami)aign. The Russians 
and Roumanians both fought with 
desi)eratc valor, and Osman, who Lad 
expected to drive tlie enemy from all 
his |)ositions, was compelled to admit 
his complete failure. 

The .Septeml)er combats in front of 
Plevna arc famous, and reflect the 
greatest credit on the courage of Turks. 
Roumanians and Russians. Rarely in 
the historv of the centurv have there 



been such obstinate and well disputed 
fields. Osman Pasha had succeeded, 
since the occupation of Plevna in July, 
in turning a simple village into an elab- 
orate fortress, l)ristling with redoubts 
and trenches. The Russian wave swept 
up from time to time against these for- 
midable defences, only to lie swept back 
again. Skobeleff wore out his heart in 
heroic, but always reckless endeavors, 
to break the Tiu-kish lines. On the lltli 
of .Septemlier there was a great Russian 
attack on Plevna. A temporary success 
was, however, followed by an ultimate 
defeat of Kriloff's and Krudeucr's di- 
visions. This ■■ liattli' in th(> mists'' 
was described by an eye-witness as 
one of the most thrilling and terrible 
of the whole campaign. "Along the 
course of the Radisovo range," wrote the 
brilliant and courageous Jlr ilacCiahan, 
— who was destined not to survive the 
fatiguing campaign, liut to die in a hos- 
pital at Coustantinoiile, — " the Russian 
gnus could be perceived at work witli 
figures flitting round them, dimly seen 
through the smoke, strangely niiignified 
by the intervention of the fog, until the 
gunners appeared like giants, and the 
guns themselves, enlarged and distorted 
bv the same meditnu, seemed like huge, 
uncouth monsters from whose throats 
at every instant Icaiied forth globes of 
tiame. There were uK>ments when 
these flashes seemed to light up every- 
thing around them: then the guns and 
gunnels ai>pcared for an instant with 
fearful distinctness, red and lurid, as if 
tinged widi blood. Then they sank back 
again into shadowy indistinctness. The 
uproar oi the battle rose aud swelled 
until it became fearful to hear — like 
the continuous roar of an angry sea beat- 
ing against a rocR-bound coast, com- 
bined with that of a thunder-storm, with 
the strange, unearthly sounds heard on 



EUROPE IN firORAf AND CALM. 



781 



board a ship when hiboring in a gale." 
lu tlie contest of this clay Geiieial 
Skoheletf's splendid lighting added new 
lustre to his already (ihenomenal reputa- 
tion. No obstacle seemed to daunt 
hnu ; nothing could frighten liim. Even 
after the Russians had fallen aw.ay fioni 
the terrific fire of the Turkish redoubt 
Skobeleff rallied 
the stragglers 
and earned them 
forward into the 
very enemy's 
lines ; his own 
sword was cut 
in two in the 
middle, while he 
was leaping a 
diteli ; his liurse 
shotdead under- 
neatli hi in, and 
he rolled into 
the ditch, luit 
sprang to liis 
feet with a shout, 
and finally led 
the mass of 
men over tlie 
ditch, scai'p and 
counters carp 
audpara|)et,and 
into theretloubt. 

This little affair cost Skobeleff two 
thousand men in kille<l and wounded, or 
one-quarter of his wiiole attacking force. 
The wonderful manner in which he es- 
caped all harm confirmed the belief 
amongst his men that he bore a charmed 
life. Ou tlie afternoon of the lith he 
was compelled to suffer defeat. The 
redoubt which he won at such terrible 
cost was deserted by the Russians in the 
presence of an overwhelming force 
brought to bear against them, and .Sko- 
beleff came out of the final tight with his 
clothes covered with mnd and filth, his 



sword broken, his decorations twisted on 
his shoulders, his face lilack with pow- 
der and smoke, his eyes bloodshot, and 
his voice broken. When asked the rea- 
son of the disaster, he said no reinforce- 
ments had been sent bim, and added, " I 
blaiue nobody ; it was the will of God." 
The Roumanians had meantime taken 




OF THE STEGE OP PLEVNA. 



and held tlie redoulit ; but the attack on 
Plevna, as a whole, was a disastrous 
failure. This attack had cost, in a few 
days of (Ighling, twenty thousand men. 
Tlie Roumanian army had no surgical ar- 
rangements, and the wounded were left 
to die for the want of ministering hands. 
The Russian medical and sanitary staffs 
were quite ineffieient in presence of this 
tremendous drain upon them, and the 
soldiers looked forward to the horrors of 
a winter campaign with shuddering fear. 
The dead left neglected on the battle- 
fields were mutilated by the Turkish 



782 



KuvorK /.y sron.u and calm. 



irn'^ulars. and the woumled si!l)irrti'il to 
the most atrocious crueltk-s whik' the 
breath of life was leaving them. When 
September eloseil W) one eoukl have 
proi)hesied tliat tlie Knssians would suc- 
ceed in diiving the Turks from their 
stronghold. :ind the enemies of linssia 
boldly announced the cumjilete failure 
of the campaign for the relief of the 
Christians in the East. The Russian 
emperor maintained his head-quarters at 
Gorny Studeii, leading an active life, 
devoting the morning to current affairs, 
having alxjut him only a little suite i>f 
fifty oflieers, working late at night, :ind 
being awakened for tiie telegrams ar- 
riving from the capital, although they 
came long after the small hours. 

Earl}' in Octolier the Russian j-eiu- 
forcemcnts had arrived in Bulgaria, but 
Osman Pasha had als(j received new- 
forces. By and by the Imperial (Inard 
had a serious brusli with tiie enemy, 
wiiich resulted in the capture of a posi- 
tion conipletuig the nivestmeut of Plevna. 
Four hundred siege-guns were planted 
about the town. Skobeleff resumed bis 
old daring activity ; General Todleben 
conducted the siege with marked ability ; 
Russian cavalry, scouring the roads to 
the southward, captured the supplies 
which Osman Pasha needed for his 
hungry troops. At the liegiuning of 
November the length of the investing 
line was said to be thirty miles, occu- 
pied by an army of one linndred and 
twenty thousand men. Autunui faded 
into winter ; the suffering was great in 
all the armies, the bad uiauageuieut of 
the Russian camps contributing greatly 
to the mortality on the Russian side. 
In November came the exi)odition of 
General Gourko into the Balkans, the 
great and dangerous (tassage over the 
mountains, the evacuation of Etropol by 
the Turks, and finally, in December, the 



hist great effort of the Turkish arniv to 
break tlirough the investing lines, its 
furious eucoiniter with the Russians and 
the Roumanians, followed by negotia- 
tions for a surrender. Ph'vna was at 
the end of its resources. The Emperor 
and his suite liad beeu suinmoued in 
baste to the mount of Radisovo, where 
they witnessed the failure of Osman 
Pasha's altemi>t to secure bis liberty. 
The attemiit io l)reak through the Russo- 
Roumaniau lines lasted about six hoiu's, 
cost tlie Turlis live thousand mm in 
dead and wounded, aud from thirty 
thimsanil to forty thousand as [irisoners 
of war. The Russian loss in (his latest 
battle was t)\\\y aliout fifteen hundred. 
The Turkish conuuander was iiighl_y 
complimented liy the Grand Duke Nieli- 
olas anil all tlie members of his staff, 
aud by Prince Charles of Ronmania, on 
his gallant defense of Plevna. It is 
thought tiiat Osman Pasiia supposed 
General Goui'ko to have weakened the 
Russian investment-line )iy taking away 
so many men when he started on his 
expedition aca-oss the Balkans. It is 
also said tluit the Turkisli General liad 
received imperative orders to fight his 
way through thi' lini'S at any cost. 

The statistics of the comljating forces, 
published at tlie time, indicate that Rus- 
sia and Ronmania had an effective of 
one hundred and nineteen thousand 
men, witii live liuudred and lifty-eight 
field gnus. The forces in the Balkans 
numbered thirty thousand men, with one 
hundred aud ^ixty-two guns. The army 
of the Lorn, commanded by the Czare- 
witeh, had seventy-three thousand men, 
witli four hundred and thirty-two guns ; 
aud the forces in the Dolirudscha and 
Eastern Roumelia comiirised thirty-eight 
thousand men, witli fi.iur hundred and 
forty guns. The Turks had, in West- 
ern Bulgaria, ninety-two thousand men. 



EUROPE JN STORM AND CALM. 



783 



with one liiiiidi'cd and thirtv-two gnns, 
and in tliese are included the army of 
Osman l'a.sha taken by the Russians ; 
and in addition to these were about four 
thousand irregulars, who did most of the 
mutilating aud slaughter of the wounded. 
The Turkish forces in the Balkans 
amounted to twenty-two thousand uion, 
with sevonty-six guns, a number of mor- 
tars, and a horde of fanatical irregulars ; 
and, linally, one hundred and tliirty-live 
thousand men iu the Quadrilateral and 
the Dobrudscha, with three hundred and 
eighty-six guus, and fully sixty thousand 
irregulars. 

By this lime English opinion was 
greatly excited against Russia, and 
prophecies were constantly made in 
Great Britain that the Russians would 
never succeed in getting over the Bal- 
kans and on their way to the fertile 
slopes of Roumelia, although they had 
seemingly Ijrokeu the strongest resist- 
ance to their advance upon the Turkish 
capital. 

Plevna fell on tlie 'Jth of December, 
1877. The Russians had been victorious 
in Asia. Suleiman Pasha had received 
a severe defeat in his assault on the 
lines of the Czarewitcli, and there was 
great consternation in the Turkish capi- 
tal. The new Sultan went through the 
farce of opening the Turkish Parliament, 
gave an address from the throne as if he 
had been a veritable constitutional sover- 
eign ; indulged in moderate language 
about the revolt of his provinces, and 
indicated his disbelief that they would 
succeed in [lermanently wresting them- 
selves from his grasp. Meantime the 
Servians ha<l again taken up arms and 
were vigorously- pushing the disheartened 
and broken Turkish forces along their 
frontier. Europe was iudis])osed to 
mediate iu favor of the preservation of 
Turkey, although England used her best 



interests to secure such mediation. The 
t!zar of Russia returned through Bucha- 
rest, where he had a most imposing re- 
cei)tion, and through the cities of South- 
ern Russia to St. Petersburg, where, in 
the great Kazan Cathedral, he was re- 
ceived by the Metropolitan, and stood 
before the Grand Altar to give thanks 
for the victor}- which seemed likely to 
liberate the Slavs. Imposing ceremonies 
lasted several days. The Emperor com- 
memorated the centennial of the birth of 
his uncle, Alexander I., and made a pil- 
grimage among the tombs of his ances- 
tors, kissing the marljle of each shrine. 
Commemorative medals, struck for the 
occasion, were laid upon the tombs. All 
Russia wa.s in joy. Prince Gortschakoff 
remarked that if England wanted war 
she would have to declare it, aud if she 
wanted i)eace she would have to wait for 
it, — concise aud frosty dcfluitiou of the 
situation at that time, which would, per- 
haps, have served admirably for a de- 
scription of tlic situation in t'ae s[)ring of 
1S8.J. 

The winter campaign of the Rus- 
sians in the Balkans and across them 
was a memorable feat of arms. The 
terrible snow-storms, the breaking of 
the pontoon-bridges over the Danube, — 
which were the only counection that 
the Russians had with tlieir base of 
supplies, — the inefficiency of the trans- 
port system, the ditHeulties of marching 
thousands of shivering Turki-sh prisoners 
onward and across the great plains, the 
destitution which followed in Russia as 
a natural consequence of the great sacri- 
fice for the prosecution of the war, — all 
these gave much hope to the enemies of 
Russia, who had now set themselves vig- 
orously to work to jirevent the northern 
power from reaping the reward of her 
energy and bravery. General Gourko's 
advance over the Balkans, his descent on 



784 



EUROPE IX SrOh'.U AND CAL}f. 



tlu' ^(mtln'nl silk', the siir[irisu ami the 
discouriigeiiieut of the Turks, — all these 
tliin<^'s have been al>h' ehronicled b_v the 
hrillianl eDrrespoudents who aecompa- 
nieil tile expedition, liy men lilve Millet 
and JMaeCiahan. General Gourko swept 
down upon the town of Sophia, where 
lie was met liy thousands of citizens led 
by priests with lianners, crueiflxes, and 
lanterns. One of the priests carried a 
salver with bread and salt. For the 
first time since 14o4 a Christian army 
was within tlie walls of the ancient town. 
Orders had lieen sent from Gonstantino- 
[jle to burn Sophia and to l.ilow nji the 
mosijues ; but this order was not heeded. 
Nor was there time ti) execnfe such or- 
der. ^Meantime tile Servians were snc- 
ccssfnl. The frontier town of Niseh 
surrendered. Gen. Gourko renewed his 
advance towards Coiistautiuople ; Pliili[i- 
po[)olis was abandoned, — Philiiipo[io- 
lis, which might have been occn[iied i.i 
August of 1877 if tlie Knssians had 
been in force to crush the intruding 
Osnian Taslux when he first api>eared at 
Plevna. 

The heroic valor of Fnad Pasha was 
of little avail ; tiie Turkish army under 
his command was defeated and disi)erscd. 
At the same time through the Shiiika 
Pass came Gen. Radetzky, Suleiman 
Pasha's arm}' was annihilated, and there 
were proposals for an armistice. Greece 
was agitated ; there was an insurrection 
in Thessaly ; European Turkey was dis- 
appearing like •■ the baseless fabric of a 
vision." Adrianople was next aban- 
doned liy the Turks, and, while peace 
negotiations dragged slowly forward, the 
Russians went with confident and swift 
ste|) to the gates of the Turkish capital. 
Turkish troops were concentrated at Gal- 
lipoli ; tlie Servians and Montenegrins, 
grown liolder, won numerous victories. 
Turkey in Europe was no longer anything 



but an c(li(icc riddled with liullets, iuca- 
|)able of defens<'. 

At this juncture England tlirew her 
siiadow across the Russian advance. 
An Englishman of talent, Paker Pash:'., 
was openly aiding scattered remnants of 
Suleiman's armj' in such resistani'e as 
they were in condition to make. Thj 
British Parliament was wild with excite- 
ment, and £0,000,000 sterling was voted 
as a possilile war credit b\' an enthusias- 
tic majority. The Conservative party 
clearly defined its policy of at all liaz- 
artls preventing Russia occupying Con- 
stantinople, and of undoing, so far as 
[lossible. the results of her crusade. 
Turkey was not to lie destroyed ; the 
"sick man" of Euroi)e was to be pre- 
served fnjin his impending dissolution. 
Loudon was stormy with rumors of war; 
the Jingo faction sang songs, and be- 
sniirciied j\lr. (Jladstone with indecent 
I'efrains in music-iialls. An armistice 
was concluded ; lint tlie Russians con- 
tinued I heir advance, and set up a claim 
to take back the portion of Bessarabia 
ceded to Moldavia in l.S.JO, — a claim 
which greatly dissatisfied their Rouma- 
nian allies. Turkey was e\idently \)o\\- 
crlcss ill Russia's hands, and it was then 
that the English determined to send a 
British fleet to the Dardanelles, to force 
a passage there if necessar}', and to anchor 
their shi[is in sight of Constantinople. 

When the Russians heard that tlic 
British were about to send a detachment 
of the Mediterranean fleet to afford 
protection, in case of need, to English 
subjects residing in that city, they an- 
nounced that for [irecisely the same 
object they hail in view the entry into 
Constantinople of part of their troojjs. 
Needless to say that this Russian sug- 
gestion was received with great disfavor 
in England, and that it strengthened the 
war party's hands in that country. 



EUROPE IN STOR.ff AXT) CALM. 



785 



Preseutly the head-qnarters of the 
Grand Duke Nicholas, as eommandei- of 
the Russian armies, was removed from 
Adriauople to San Stefano, where the 
Russians were only twelve miles from 
the Turkish capital, on the Sea of Mar- 
mora, and where it was proposed to 
consult as to the signature of the treaty 
of peace. General Igiiatieff, the able 
Russian ambassador to the Porte, who 
had had complete power over the unfor- 



in the south east of Europe was extreme. 
" If," says a recent writer, " the treaty 
of San Stefano had been allowed to 
stand, the next step in the southward 
march of Russia — namely, the acquisi- 
tion of Constantinople — would have 
been even more facile than it is now. 
So easy and certain, indeed, that Russia 
could well have afforded to wait until, in 
a generation or two, the step could be 
taken with much less fear of awakening 




SIGNING TIIK TliEATY OF SAN STEFANO. 



tunate Sultan Abdul Aziz, was the 
principal Russian agent for the negotia- 
tion of the treat}'. The arrival of the 
Russians in San Stefano was intended 
as a counter demonstration to the pres- 
ence of the British fleet in the vSea of 
Marmora. Peace was signed on the .'id 
of March. 1878, in a little valley by the 
sea-side, — a valley from which the 
minarets of the ancient mosque of St. 
Sophia, in Constantinople, could be seen. 
The excitement in England over this 
consecration of the victories of Russia 



European fears or exciting their jealousy. 
No wonder so sweeping a revolution as 
that effected by the treaty of San Stefano 
fell like a thunderbolt on the nations, 
and caused a feeling of general distrust. 
With blood-dropping sword and l)attered 
harness the gigantic figure of Muscovy 
stiDile over the prostrate and gasping 
Turk; but in the distance, behind the 
disi)crsing mists of war, stood the Powers 
of Eurojie which had an interest in the 
final settlement, and chief amongst them 
the enormous force of Enurland." 



78R 



ECRorK fy firoNM axp cm,.w. 



Tlie Ucrlin f ongress grew out of this 
intliK'Uce of Knghuid. whose coiiseiva- 
tive forces were so ably marshalled by 
IJeacousfiekl ; hut tiie proposition that 
the Congress should meet in Berlin eaine 
from Austria,. Loi-d Beaconsfield iiad 
determined to call out tlie English re- 
serves ; warlike preparations were 
al)undant throughout Great liritain, hut 
more diflicnlty was found in moliilizing 
an eflkient army of a size competent to 
coi)e with the great forces afield on tlie 
borders of the Orient. The Englisli 
claimed that they could, within tliree 
mouths, or a shorter time, if necessary, 
despatch from their shores an army of 
one hundred thousand men in the highest 
state of efficiency. "The facility with 
which we can shift our base and move at 
pleasure by sea," said the "Tinn's," "at 
least doubles the military power of Eng- 
land." Despite the signature of |)eace, 
the Turks were nnanirnons in their desire 
to renew the war with Russia, and the 
ccjursc adoi)ted by England in bringing 
U[) from India large masses of native 
troops greatly encouraged tlio Turks in 
their hope of a revival of hostilities. In 
Germany and in Austro-Hungary there 
was a decided anti-Russian feeling. It 
was said that the Russians were estali- 
lishing a theoretical depotism in 
Bulgaria; lioumania itself i)rotested 
against the treaty of San Stefant), and 
even appealed to the English govei-nmeut 
to be allowed representation at tile 
Berlin Congress. At hist tliis Congress 
met in the capital to which tlie [jolitical 
power luid lieen transferred from Paris 
as tiie result of the great German niili- 
tarv victories. The French hauglitily 
heUl aloof, chagrined and annoyed at tlie 
manifestation of their secular enemy's 
power in Eurojie. Lord Beacouslield 
arrived in Berlin early in June of 1878, 
and was received with great honors. 



Germany, Austria, Hungary, France, 
Great Britain, Italy, Russia and Turkey 
had sent jilenipotentiaries to be seated 
round a green table in the Radziwili 
Palace, which was at that time occupied 
liy Prince Bismarck. Rei)resentatives of 
(Ti'eece, Roumauia, and Servia. waited 
at tlu' doors of Congress, in the hope that 
they might lay their claim before this 
diplomatic parliament. The Jews had 
sent an important delegation to plead 
their cause. The three great Premiers 
of Eurofie — Bismarck, Ciortschakott', 
and Beaconsfield — were each at that time 
suffering from severe indisposition. 
( iortschakoff was crippled with gout; 
P>ismarck had just risen from a sick-bed, 
wiiere he was placed from exhaustion 
from overworii, and I5eaconsfield was 
obliged to repose every hour iu which he 
was not engaged in the deliberations of 
the Congress. On the l.'Uh of .June, 
1878, this distinguished body met, and 
liroeeecleil witli its work of putting back 
the hands of the Russian clock. A diplo- 
matic Congress iu Europe is a battle- 
ground in which fierce jealousies, unre- 
lenting hatred, and petty prejudices r.age 
without inucli restraint, altliongh the 
jihraseology employed is of the most 
deUcate and courteous nature. 

In the Congress Prince Gortschakoff 
brought out clearly the position of the 
Christian races in Turkey, explained the 
antagonism of the Greeks and the Slavs, 
and the limits of Bulgaria ; Beaconsfield 
unfolded his policy of checkmating 
Russia ; the Austrian designs on Bosnia 
and Herzegovina were set forth : the 
independence of Servia was confirmed ; 
the Russian conquests in Asia were con- 
sidered, and the treaty of >Sau .Stefano 
tiioronghly overhauled. The dexterous 
hand of Prince Bismarck was moi-e than 
once interi)osed with marked advantage 
to the harmonious working of the con- 



EUROPE IN STORM ASU CALM. 



7.S7 



o 




788 



EURoric IX sTdini axd calm. 



fi'ronoe. Tlie nltcrations in Europenn shores of the ,T>£joan. On the other 
Turkey effected l>y the treaty, wliieli was haml it ir:i\i' Austria permission to 
tlio out.eonie of thi> Berlin Congress, were oeenpy llosnia. and gave lier comnumd 
not so great as those intended by the over Montenegro, tluis affording a new 
treaty of San Stefano, but were enormous, protection against tlie Turk to tlio heroic 
and liad foi' tiieir sulistanlial result the little country. In short, by the Berlin 
banishment of tlie Turk, who had grown Congress England had made a substantial 
tired of the lands he so Irjng 
misgoverned. 'I'o-daj' he 
has l)Ut a slender foothold 
in Constantinople, and is 
menaced even in his |ios- 
session of this historic 
cajiital. I,ord Beacons- 
field .and his followei's 
claimed that the treaty of 
Berlin )ilaced tin- Turkish 
empire in a position of in- 
depend<'nce : but this is 
altotrcther bio nmcli to 
claim for it. It did indeed 
protect wlia.t little was left 
of the Turkish Empire in 
l'',ni'o|ie. Imt tliat was so 
littU' as to be scarcely 
worth pi'eserving. The 
modilii'ations of the .San 
iStefano treaty were, how- 
ever, numerous. The new 
treaty dividecl the so-called 
Bulgaria into two prov- 
inces. — one to the nortli of the B.al- 
kans lieing tributary 1o the .Sultan ; 
one to the south, Eastern Rt)unielia, 
to lie under the Sultan's direct authority, 
but with .administrative autonomy, and 
with a Christian sovernor-weneral. The 




THE KADZIWIi; 

\ntIUn THE BERI. 
i;l!ESS WAS HELD, 



demons ti'at ion 
against the ad- 
vance of Russia, 
aii<l the estab- 
lishing of a 
.southern .Slavic 



Berlin treaty reduced the stay of the empire, but liad raised no impassai'le 



Russian army in European Turkey from 
two years tt> nine months, and gave to 
Ronmania as compensation for the |iart 
of Bessarabia. — of which Russia h:ul 
demanded the return. — a greater 
amount of territory south of the I)ainibi> 
than had been given by the .San .Stefano 
treaty. It kept for Turkey the northern 



barriers against -the Russian advance. 
Perhaps a less "imperial" policy on 
the |>art of Lord Beaconsfield and his 
followers, — a i)oliey which should Iiavi^ 
allowed Russia free scope for h r [ler- 
fectly jnsliliable advance in soutli- 
casteiii luuope. — might have deter- 
mined the Emperor of the North not to 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



789 



o 



o 

-3 

f 

> 

o 

H 
B 
IS 







790 



FA'RnpE IX f^TORM AXP CALM. 



luiv(> made such <;i<raiiti(.' strides in the and this is as true now as it was when 
direction of (he Indian frontier: liut (he hrillinnt Frencliman said it. The 
Lord IJeacnnslield wanted to undertake Turkish eniiiire, with its innumerable 
!l taslv fur which lie would have needed traditions, witli its religious formulas 
seven times the niilitai-y resources at his and its fanaticism, its lust of conquest 
connnand. He wished to get complete and its rapacity and injustice in deal- 
control in Afghanistan, to make the ing with subjugated i)rovince.s, will re- 
[lorth-west frontier of India impregnal)lc main in history as a warning to civilized 
against the Russians, while at the same powers not to degenerate into tyrants, 
time he prevented Russia from secm'ing Its mh' in Kurope is iiractieally at an 
her coveted outlets in the south, and end. and tliis is a sulHcient gain for tlie 

moment. The en- 



from proteeting her kindred in the 
south-east "f Kurope. Wiiat he 
snceeeded in doing was in strengtli- 
ening Russian hostilitv to England, 








,iU 




PAI,ArE OF TFTE SULT.AN AT CONSTANTINOPLE, 



thusiastic .Slavs, who 
say that out of the 
two liundred and 
eighty million inhab- 
itants of Europe 
theie are eighty-six 
millions of their own 
nationality ;thatthe3' 
are more luimerous 
than the Germanic 
race, and occupy a 
wider space in Eu- 
rope than both the 
Germanic and Latin 
races, d o u 1 > 1 1 e s s 
hoped that out of 
recent events would 
and increasing Russian determination to be liorn the unilication of their vari- 
wrest from England conii)lete assent to ous bi-anches, and that to a mighty 
;i policy of a.ssimilation, if not absorp- Slavic empire would be given the pre- 
tion, in s(^utii-ea.stcrn Ein-opc. To-day ponderance of power. But this is a 
Ru.ssia is liammering at the Afghan gates dream which will not be realized for 
for apparently uo other reason than to many long years to come. Germany 
sliow England that she must l)e concilia- and Italy have been unified, but the 
tory, or submit to a sudden and powerful Slavs must wait. Before they can be 
assault upon her Indian frontier. merged in one great nation, Austria 

It is not <jur i)urpose here to enter into must have disai)peared, Russia must 
a detailed account of the progress of have given evidence of a resistless mil- 
Turkey since the severe lilow whic'li it itary force which she does not yet appear 
iuis received from the numerous iiisiu'- to possess, and Germany must have 
rections in south-eastern Europe, cov- given her consent to the unification, or 
(■ring a i)eriod from 1875 to 1878. have been forced to accord it. The 
Jjamartine said long ago of the Turk face of south-eastern Europe has been 
tliat he was i.m\y encamped in Knrope, changed. Out of small and subjugated 



EUROrE IN SiTORM AND CALM- 



791 



principalities have come almost inde- 
pendent and energetic kini^doins and 
provinces. Tlie march of enterprise is 
visible in the now iertile lields and the 
noble forests along tiie great streams, 
and in the monntain passes, where it 
had not been seen for four lumdred 
years. One of the richest, most fertile, 
beautiful, and enchanting [lortions of 
Europe, which had been lying in ruins 
and in neglect since the battle of Kos- 
sovo, has now, within a period of ten 



years, been open t() all the influences of 
civilization, and the effect upon the 
wliole P^uropean cornmnnity of the vast 
changes m this section cannot fail to be 
very great. It is not dangerous to 
pro|)hesy that in some of the new storms 
that are soon to sweep over Europe the 
standard of the Crescent will recede 
from Constantinople, and will disappear 
into those Asiatic recesses out of wiiich 
it came. 



792 EVKOI'K IN STORM AND VALM. 



CHAPTER NINETY. 

Munich in its Stony Plain liy tlio Isur. — Tlie Coiil (Ji-cck Archituctnt'c of the Bavarian Capital.— 
Tlio Monafchs ol' Bavai'ia. — The I'l-cwnt Kill',' Louis. — An Ei'ianitrio SoveruiL,'n. — Wagncf 
ami HayiTiith. — Gaiulniiins in Munich. 

|)ERL1X,"' says M. Victor Tlssot, iiioiittreh, Louis, is, when lifst sfeii, (jiiitu 
J—' "• is ill the midst of a desert of iiuposiiig. Here is the '■ Ilall of (^lmi- 
saiid. Miiiiieli stands in the centre of a erals." a lodo;e in the Italian style, with 
.stony plain, which seems to express only niches ."idorned with statues; the great 
the sharpest and the most brutal things." Oate of Victory, with bronze statues 
M. Tissot went into Germany with a and reliefs ; a church which contains the 
determination to see merely the uiifavor- royal tombs ; e(|i:estriaii statues ; the war- 
able side of things; but he has told the otlice ; the stately library with its beaiiti- 
truth with regard to the situation of two ful statues ; and here and there are hand- 
of the great German cities. some churches, always in the Italian 

Munich is a part of new Elnrope, for style, 

all that makes it specially attractive to The Germans of the south were am- 

the traveller has been placed on tlie bitious of creating ti new Athens at Mu- 

aliove-mcntioued stony plain within the inch, and Ldiiis 1.. of Ilavaiia, deserves 

last htindre I years. The showy tiiid tlic thanks of his geuerati(.)ii for having 

pretentions editices, often classical and grouiied about him a great number of 

retined enough in architecture, seem tn clever painters, who were perhaps a little 

shiver in tlie cold and iiihosiiittdile too willing to glorify the modest triumphs 

atmosphere of the vic-t expanse at the of this Teutonic sovereign. Greece and 

foot of the Bavarian Alps. In certain Egypt tiave l)otli contributed to the gloriti- 

old quarters of Munich may still be cation of Munich. The visitor looks with 

fcMind the (iiitiiiitiiess and i)ictures(inc astonishment iip(jii ;i palace richly ornate 

cluirm so characteristic of the elder with p<jrtic(-)s and Tuscan columns, and 

(iermaii towns; and one is inclined to is told that this is the post-oltice. The 

turn to Ihesi' nooks and by-streets Koytil Theatie has ;i Corinthian |ieii- 

rather than to the sham sjilendcji's whii^i style, and is adorned with frescos which 

ambitions monarchs have heaped to- depict Apollo in the midst of the iMuses 

gether, with more reference to iiuaiiiity nine. A colossal museum, overladen 

than to quality. with decoration, frescos, and statues. 

There are views on the banks of the and called the Maxiniilianeuiu, is well 

rapidly rolliiiL'' Isar which are .striking, stocked with good paintings, 

and it is but a short journey from Miniieh The people of Munich are very proud 

into the wonders of the Bavarian luoun- of their city, ami are :i little incliiieil, 

tain regions The great Ludwigsstrasse, like the worthy citizens of some of our 

or the street of palaces which the faith- western capitals, to gauge their esteem 

ful people named after its capricious by tiie amount of money which edilices 



El'ROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



7!»3 



c'DSt. The B;iv;iriau burylicr may even 
be heard sayiiiii, " Such and such a 
palace is splendid ; it cost an enoiuious 
sum." 

lu what M. Tissot rather satirically 
calls the '■ Hellenic section " of Munich 
stands the I'ropylfea, a superb gate-way, 
imitated from that of the Acropolis at 
Athens, and erected at the time when 
Louis I. was indulging in fantastic vis- 
ions of the union of Greece and Bavaria. 
This monument was intended to cele- 
brate the war during which the Greeks 
threw off the Turkish yoke, aud called 
to the throne King Otho I., founder of 
the Gneco-Bavarian dynasty. As fate 
would have it. the da^- after the inau- 
guration of the celebration of this gate- 
way the ex-monarch of (ireece came 
home to his native city of Munich to 
remain there. 

The museums known as the old and 
new Pinakotheks and the Gly|)tothek 
contain fine collections, which would 
have ap[)eared to vastly better advan- 
tage had they both been united in one 
splendid structure ; and one cannot help 
wondering why the Bavarians cannot 
call them by German rather than bj' 
Grecian titles. Outside the city, in what 
is known as the Hall of Fame, stands a 
colossal statue of Bavaria, nearly seventy 
feet high ; and climl>ing up into the 
head of this monster one may look out 
through the vast apertures, which serve 
as eyes, over the city, the plain, and its 
environing mountains. Munich looks 
unreal and unsubstantial, antl as if a 
great wind sweeping down from the Alps 
might blow it away. 

Stories of the old King Louis of Ba- 
varia, fatlier of the present sovereign, 
are so well known that 1 shall not 
attempt to recite them anew. His artis- 
tic and amatory ambitions have been 
imitated in some measure by his son, who 



is eccentric in a higli degree, yet who is 
immensely popular among his people. 
The anniversary of his i)irthday is cele- 
brated with loyal effusion and iiiliuite 
beer and fireworks, and the invading 
centralization of northern Germany 
does not seem likely to do away with 
the fondness for the Bavarian royal 
family. The present King Louis is of 
delicate temperament, and it is said that 
his moody aud exalted condition is due 
to a disappointment in love when he was 
l)ut a youth. This story does not api)ear 
to have been contradicted. 

The King's ruling jjassioii at present 
is nuisic, to which he devotes himself 
with all the ardor of a great composer. 
He is, I believe, the only monarch in 
Europe who has a whole oi)eratic per- 
formance given for himself alone. He 
believes in enjoying to the full the privi- 
leges of a king, and esteems it necessary 
that he should be screened from the gaze 
of the ciimmou herd whenever it pleases 
him to be so, no matter how much this 
may annoy his subjects or what moneys 
it may cost them. Now aud then he 
arrives, late at night, and without warn- 
ing 1o any of his servitors, at one of his 
many fantastic palaces in some pretty 
nook in the mountains or by a pleasant 
lake. In his train are musicians, singers, 
painters, and poets. A little intellectual 
court is organized : fi'tes are held, and, 
just as the inhabitants of the locality 
are beginning to congratulate themselves 
on the i)resence of their sovereign, he 
whisks himself off with all the swiftness 
of a prince in a fairy-tale. He has long 
ago given up dreams of any political 
rule in southern Germany ; yet, unlike 
the King of Wurtembnrg, he has not, in 
effacing his own importance before that 
of the dominating Prussian influence, 
run the risk of losing the respect of his 
people. When his ministers annoy him 



7fM 



EUROrE IN STORM AND CALM. 



with stoi'ics of what lie inust fir must 
not do he takes to the iiiouutains 
and heaves them in the lurcli. On one 
occasion, in 1S73, in order to escajie 
them, he trotted off tln-ough tlie Tyi'ol' 
and tlie ministers canght his royal sliirts 
jnst as lie was disappearing into Italy. 

It is said of hiin that when a palc- 
faeed ambassador lironght to him the 
news that the Prussians were in Xnrem- 
berg, and would soon march ujion 
Munich, the King, who was in costume 
as one of the heroes of a Wagnerian 
libretto, showed but little agitation, and 
w'hen the ambassador had deiiarted sat 
down at his piano as trancjuilly as if 
nothing had hajiiiened. 

The King of Bavaria was so fond of 
Wagner that lie eonld refuse him nothing. 
On one occasion Wagner asked the King 
to tear down a whole quarter of the city, 
and build in its place a vast ani|ihitheatre 
which would hold fifty thousand specta- 
tors ; and King Louis was aliout to 
grant the request when a practical sub- 
ject put into his head the question of 
expense, and suggested that to raise 
the money would wreck the treasury of 
the kingdom. Without a monarch like 
Louis II., of Bavaria, a composer like 
Richard Wagner woukl have found it 
dillicult. if not impossible, to carry out 
his grandiose conceptions. The great 
musical theatre of Bayreuth, with its 
scenic and orchestral ett'ects, could 
scarcely have been created in northern 
Germany. The old Em|)eror of Ger- 
many, it is said, contributed but three 
hundred thalers to the AVagner Theatre, 
while the Viceroy of Kgypt alone gave 
five thousand; but tlie royal treasury of 
Bavaria furnished the greater part of the 
funds. The King was delighted with 
the idea of having a musical iMecea es- 
tablished within his territory, and so soon 
as Wagner, who disliked Munich, and 
detested the citizens of ]\Innich, because 



they criticised the King's generosity to 
him, had chosen liayieuth as his resi- 
dence. King I>ouis was willing to build 
him whatsoever he wished. 

Thither came the great artists from 
Menna, and there Hans IJichter, who 
has since become so famous in London 
with his orchestra of a hundred musi- 
cians, [licked from all the musical theatres 
of Germany, brought forth the master's 
weird ami mystical allegories, and pa- 
raded before the eyes of the most scepti- 
<'al iieo[(le in tlu' world the gods and 
goddesses of their banished Pagan my- 
thology. It was not Louis II., during 
Wagner's lifetime, who held court at 
liayreuth : it was Wagner himself; and 
none more sincerely mourned for the 
great composer, when he finished his 
laborious and agitated life in the calm 
seclusion of Venice, than did the youth- 
ful ruler of Bavaria. 

There is one monarch who stands quite 
as high in the affections of the populace 
of Munich as King Louis, and that is 
the veneralile Gambiinus, to whose court 
all classes daily repair. Tlie lirewei'ies 
of ^Munich are renowned througiiout 
Europe, and the drinking-halls connected 
with them offer a very curious spectacle 
when night has closed down over the 
capital. Ill Munich there is in the even- 
ing none of the exuberant gayety and 
vivacity of the Paris streets ; liut there 
is plenty of wassail within the walls, and 
deei) drinking is one of the iirineiiial 
pastimes, especially of the middle and 
lower classes. Tin^ Ilof-Braii. en- Royal 
Brewery, is the most popular resort in 
Munich. The citizens sometimes laugh- 
ingly observe that the Bavarian court 
has long drawn the chief of its revenues 
from the gratification of the nation's 
thirst. In former days the court re- 
ceived a very handsome annual sum from 
the privilege of supplying the rich city 
of Augsliurg with water, and to-day it 



EUROrE J.V STORM AXD CALM. 



795 



gets from the loyai brewery a splendid 
yearh' iucome. 

In the sombre and ili-iighted halis of 
the brewery after nigiitfall the stranger 
can almost fancy that he has been trans- 
ported backwards into the Middle j^ges. 
In one corner of the hall, and near the 
court-yard, through which stout servhig- 
men, clad in leather, arc constanth' roll- 
ing fresh hogsheads, stands a .huge ijcri- 
(larmf, resplendent in a brazen helnut 
and wearing iinniacnlate white gloves 
and a handsome sabre. This is the rep- 
resentative of the royal authority, and he 
looks unmoved upon the guzzling tiu'ong 
which now and then becomes boisterous, 
but is quieted by the simple nitiination 
of the presence of authority- 

Around this splendid gendarvw's feet 
run rivers of beei', from the overflowing 
stone mugs which the careless drinkers 
come to fill for themselves. From time 
to time bright-faced servant girls make 
the rounds of the tables, and collect 
from each drinker the money due from 
him. Hundreds upon hundreds of the 
woi-king-people bring their meals to this 
place, and eat them theie while they 
drink the royal beer. And what things 
the populace of Munich eats ! Nameless 
things, i)retexts for eating, the French, 
the English, or the Americans would 
call them: sausages and cold meats un- 
known in other climes ; black bread, and 
strange composites of cabbage and 
onions, — the prime requisite with the 
Munich man of the people being that 
Ills stomach should be filled, it matters 
little with what kind of solid food. But 
he is vastly particular in his cups, and a 
lowering of the quality of the royal beer 
would breed a revolution in Munich 
more quickly than any tyrannical meas- 
ure of taxation. 

In October, during the great festival 
which lasts six days and six nights, all 
Munich devotes itself to the first glasses 



of the winter beer, and celel)rates the 
new brewing with as much joy and cere- 
mony as it would use in saluting the 
advent of a new prince. It is said that 
during one of the October festivals in 
Munich nine hinidred thousand bottles 
of beer — a bottle holding more than a 
quart — were consumed daily by the 
thirsty throng. I'lie ordinary titchi, or 
stone mug, in use in the royal brewery, 
holds much more than a quart of still 
cold beer, and is enough quite to turn 
the head of a stranger accustomed to 
moderation in drink. 

In the towns the Bavarian p<ji)ulatious 
are sceptical, although great outward 
attention is paid to all the Catholic forms 
of religion. In the mountain regions 
the Catholicism is as deep and earnest, as 
firmly engrafted in the manners of the 
people as it was five or six centuries 
ago ; and the gentle wood-cutters of the 
pretty mountain district in which stands 
the village of Ober-Ammergau have 
called the attention of the whole world 
to their devotion by the periodical \)Vo- 
duction of the Passion Play. The war 
in 1870 interfered to prevent the reiire- 
sentation of the Jlystery Play in that 
year, but in 1.S71 the wood-carvers, who 
had done good service in the army, were 
back again in their homes and gave the 
Bible story with their usual realistic 
power. In 1881 the play was again [ire- 
sented, and so every ten years will be 
given to the world, in solemn fulfilment 
of the vow made by the peasants of 
Ober-Ammergau long ago, in the hope 
that their devotion might save them 
from the pestilence which had sliown its 
hideous face in their smiling valley. 

The representation of 1881 w^as in 
many respects more striking than any 
which had preceded it at Ober-Auuuergau 
during this century, and I have set down 
my own impressions of it in the following 
chapter. 



796 



EURiiVE IN STORM AND CALM. 



CHAFFER NINETY-ONE. 

The Passioii-Play at Obcr-Ammerguu. — Tlie TliCiUre ol'tlic Passion.— Okl Miracle Plays. — Tiic Cluirus 
at OlH"r-.\mmcv;;au. — Bavariau Wood-carvers as Actors. — The Persoiiator of the Saviour. — 
Caiaphas. — The Figures of Peter and Judas. — The Women Interpreters of the Passion. — The 
Departure from Bethany, and the Last Supper. — Comments of a Distinguished American Actor. — 
The Scourging and the Crown of Thorns. -The Despair of Judas. — Efi'ective Portrayal of the 
.Judgment and Crucifixion. — A Bcautifid, Holy, and Kohlc Dramatic Slvetch of (lie Most Wonderful 
I.ilV and Death. 



THE rain was fallino' when we awoke, 
on a September uiorniiig, in Olior- 
Amnioi'gati, and the sky inilicated tliat 
settled weatiier (■(.mid ii(.>t he expeetcd. 
But fdi-tiinately we wei'e provided with 
fovere(l seats in the theatre, and eould 
therefore titfoid tn smile at the elonds. 
We lo(jked tit the eloek, and found that 
it was seven. A neat-handed maiden 
servecl ns with a liiiht lireakfast, tind at 
tliis early hour she litid to hasten away 
to the thetitre, where she was to appear 
:i,s '• one of the erowd " in an early scene. 
J5y the time breakfast was over the rain 
had ceased, but the clouds threatened to 
give lis more of it at any moment. We 
took onr umbrellas ttnd tramped aer(.)ss 
the mc;\d(iws to the village street, and 
thence to the theatre. 

The C'rowTi Prince was there befure 
ns, and the crowds were salntiiio; him 
with shouts of •' Iloch ! ILjch ! "' sent 
n|) :tt reoiilar iiiter\-als, and somewhat 
as if they had been told to dn it jiist so 
iiiaiiy times. Friederich Wilhelm got 
into his place iiresently, and then we 
were permitted tn eliinl) along some 
Wdcideii stair-way> and passages, and at 
last to gain our places in the covered 
lodges. 

The theatre of the Passion, at Ober- 
Ainmergan, is very s|iaeious and solid. 
I should think that more than six thou- 
siind [ieople can get into it, aud there are 



five thousand seats. It is so arranged 
that every person in it can see tiie stage 
perfectly. Although Imilt of conunoa 
[ilanks, without any esiieeial attempt at 
decoration, it is ex(iaisitely clean, aud 
perfectly coinibrtahle. Sitting in the 
reserved places, under cover, one looks 
down ii|)on the open s()ace, in which 
three thousand persons can sit, and do 
sit at every performance, no matter 
whether it rains or not. The reserved 
seats rise in rows, like those of an am- 
phitheatre in a lectiire-room or a circtis. 
The most expensive places are farther 
from the stage than the least expensive 
ones, and I think they are preferable, 
becatise the illusion is heightened by 
being somewhat removed from the actors 
in the pious drama. 

The stage is the most remarkalile feat- 
nre of the theatre. It consists of a 
vast proseeniniu, which is open to the 
sky ; of a central stage, inclosed with a 
[lortico of Roman form, and " jiractica- 
ble ' do(jrs and balconies on either side 
of the middle in whicli the curtain rises. 
On cither side of tliis central ctutaiu 
there are sets of streets, which run back 
a long distance, and which are quite as 
spacious as many of the real streets in 
Jerusalem. When, therefore, the cin-- 
taiu of the central stage is raised and 
the scene inside it is set to represent a 
street, one has before him a very good 



EUnOrE TN STORM AND CAL.V. 



797 



picture of the interior of .Terusalcni. 
AVIk'ii it is necessary to represent a tab- 
leau in a scene in the drama which de- 
mands but a small place, then only the 
central stage is used. The old mystery 
stage consisted of nine compartments ; 
the ancient classic theatre of Greece had 
the sam;' arrangement of proscenium 
which the villagers of Ober-Ammeigau 
have adopted. Doubtless they have ex- 
cellent traditions upon which to found 
their present manner of arranging their 
stage. They manage it so as to get the 
very best scenic effects with the smallest 
machinery. For example, the spectator, 
when he first sits down to lool< at the 
scene, sees the balcony and a door on 
either side of the curtain, and at first 
fancies that they are placed there as or- 
naments. But he is agreeably surprised 
wluMi, in the progress of the play, he 
finds that one of tliem represents the 
lialcouy of Pontius Pilate, and the other 
one that above the palace of Annas. 
Probably the monks of the monastery of 
Kttal or of some of the other institutions 
in the valley possessed accurate records 
of the manner in wliicli mysteries at all 
ejioehs have been re[>resented. and how 
long these representations have been 
popular. 

As early as 11 Id Geoft'ray,a Norman, 
wrote a mystery play called '• Saint Catii- 
erine." He ha>l many successors and 
imitators, some of them writing produc- 
tions which required seven or eight days 
for their complete representation, like 
the plays of the Chinese, who repre- 
sent the stories of their gods and heroes. 
One play in the ]\Iid<lle Ages undertook 
to represent the whole of scriptm'e liis- 
tory, and lasted rather more than a week. 
The famous Coventry mystery, which be- 
gan with the Creation and ended with 
a representation of the Judgment Daj', 
must have been one of this class. The 



passion of Christ and the slaughter of the 
Innocents were among the subjects most 
connnouly represented. The name "mys- 
tery " a|)pears to have been given to this 
order of play because it taught tlie doc- 
trinesof Christianity, which in the Middle 
Ages were always considered in the high- 
est degree mysterious. The origin of the 
theatre in France, and indeed, in the whole 
of Europe, dates from the introduction of 
these mysteries in the fotn-teenth and fif- 
teenth centuries. The Comedie-Fran- 
caise was founded on tin' I'uins of a 
privilege once accorded to the Confreric 
de la, Pasniou, so-called because they rep- 
resented the closing scenes in the life of 
Jesus. In the early days the mysteries 
were never considered by any class of 
people as an amusement, lint rather as 
solemnities ; it was only with degraded 
manners and a dissolute age that mounte- 
bankery was added. 

The GVier-Ammergau peo|ile have dour 
wisely in banishing from their version of 
the Passion anything like the grotesque 
or vulgar. Thirty or forty years ago they 
were wont to reiirescnt Judas as torn open 
and disembowelled by demons ; but now 
they would not tolerate any such thing 
on their stage. When the mysteries 
first began, the services in churches in 
France were shortened, in order that 
people might attend them. Thus the 
Church directly encouraged the theatre 
as a growing institution worthy of pat- 
ronage. Rut in the course of time they 
degenerated, particularly in France, into 
something dangerously like travesty. In 
the mysteries represented in the Trinit>' 
IIos[)ital and in the Hotel de IJourgogne, 
a view of heaven was given with (iod 
the Father seated on a throne and sur- 
rounded by angels. I have myself seen a 
reiiresentationof the interior of heaven on 
the stage of the Porte St. Martin theatre 
in Paris. Hell was figured by a huge pit 



798 EURnn: ix storm axd calm. 

in tlio c'cnti'c of the stage, out of wliirli was written liy one Andreino, and dedi- 
lar^c and little devils arose fi'om time to cated to Maria De Medicis. Tlie snbjeet 
time ; ;ind heaven was sui)i)orted liy lofty was the fall of man. The actors were 
scaffoldings. The actors, when tliev lin- the lOternal, the de\il, the angels, Adam, 
ished their parts, ilid not retire from the Kve, the serpent, death, and tlie seven 
stage, Imt sat down on benches attheside, deadly sins. At the close of the plav, 
in fnll view of the andience, and waited these sins danced a lireak-down with the 
foi- their " cnes " to summon them once devil, and prodnce(l roars of hinghtcr. 
more into action. Not so much attention iMilton was so much excited by the 
was i)aid to historical truth in those days sober and solemn [lart of the pl;iv that 
as now. In a mystery of tlie Mitldle Ages, he at once began a tragedy, in which 
Herod is represented as a Pagan, and Satan and the angels fallen from Heaven 
Pilate as a Mohanniiedan. r>ut to-day apiiear, and actually wrote an act and a 
the OluM'-Anunergau peasants are scrnpu- iialf of it l:)efore he gave it up. 
lously careful to have all their proi)erties .Some of these things we remembered, 
in accoi'danee with the historical record, as we sat looking out over the high wall 
One looks in vain foi- anachronisms iu at the riglit of the stage upon the green 
their play. In old limes after the scene meadow and the great nplilt of moiui- 
of the ciiicitixion, a hidicrous dance of tain, oi' gazing down at the four thon- 
de\ ils, or something similar, was given sand heads which were ranged in 
to put the siiectators in good-hnmor regular older below us. There were all 
again. lint now such a thing wonhl be our peasant friends of the previous dav ; 
looked n[ion as a sacrilege. The peasants they had sle|it somewhere o\er night, and 
sit silent, with streanung eyes and trem- were now waiting imi)atiently foi- the bc- 
bling lips, after the curtain has fallen up- giniiing. On the h-ft was an t>rcliestra 
on the crowning wc^e of the sacrilii-e of siiHicieutiy large to [)ii)dnce a proper 
Christ. Certainly it is better, in the in- et'fect in the \'ast inclosure. The niusi- 
terests of Imth n ligiun and art, that ui> cians were playing an o\ertiire, which 
buffoonery should intiiide n|ion the tinich- had many claims to merit, above all, a 
ing and tender story of the Passion. gentle Icinnony which seemed fnll of 
\'ietiir Hugo's li\ely descri|iti(m of reverence and peace, Well calculated to 
till' mysteiy called '■ The Good Judg- prepare file niiiid for the scenes to eoine. 
ment of the N'irgiu Maiy," in the lirst The sound of a cannon-shot was heard; 
liook of ■• Notre Dame." is doubtless it was the signal that the play was to 
familiar to tiionsands of American begin ; and the procession of the chorus 
readers. Hugo shows that buffixinerv inarchecl slowly and solenndy upon tiie 
was still in fnll force in the mysteries stage. This chorus consists of eighteen 
and moralities at the close of the lifteenth singers, whose duty it is to annonuee the 
century. And who does not icmeniliei- tdl/Ii'iiix to be shown, then to fall back 
\'olt:iire's pleasant desciiptioii of the on either side of the stage wdien the cur- 
mystery which Milton saw when in his tain rises, and when it falls, once more 
youth he was travelling in Italw and to t-onie forward and chant the moral, 
which became the germ o( the immortal When the whole space is needed for 
poi'in of ••Paradise Lost"? This action, as in iirocessions, etc., the sing- 
mystery, which was produced in Milan, ers retire in single file, nine on each side, 
was called " Adam, or Original Sin," as they tntered. They are jiersons of 



ErROT'E l.\ STORM AM) CALM. 



799 



coininaiuling tigiire, and with swoot and 
harmouions voices. The leader of tiie 
chorns is inquired to make very great ex- 
ertion, for if lie did not iiis single voice 
could scarcely be lieai'd l)_v a large por- 
tion of the immense audience. Some of 
the women have graceful ligures, hut 
none of them are pretty. Their gestures 
and attitude while singing show the re- 
.sults of rather formal training. Dut 
they serve on the whole admiraljly to liU 
up the intervals lietween the Idbh'iiHX 
and dramatic action, and toward the 
close of the mystery their music rises to 
the haight of veritable eloquence. 

Behind the curtain in the central 
stage, for a few minutes liefore the 
first tableau is shown, all the actors 
and actresses kneel in silent prayer. 
This is never omitted, although they 
have already atti'uded mass at six 
o'clock. After the prayer each one 
noiselessly disperses to his or her place, 
the ciu'tain rises as the chorus liuishe.s, 
announcing the suliject to be disi)layed, 
and falls back, and the audience is 
shown "the fall," — the expulsion of 
Adam and Eve from Eden. 

And, before proceeding to connnent 
upon the various parts of this singularly 
impressive religious dram;i, it may lie 
well to remark that the ardor which the 
Ober-Ainmergau peasants have dis[)l;iyed 
in their endeavors t(.i sliow the connec- 
tion l>etween the Old Testament and 
the New is a constant and the onl}' 
drawback to the perfection of the 
" mystery." The peassants, on the con- 
trary, believe that the chief importance 
of their work lies in the establishment 
of this connection, and here and there 
they have most lamentably strained the 
law and the prophets, in order to perfect, 
to their own satisfaction, the analogy. 
By means, too, of those tableaux from 
the Old Testament, they detract from 



th': dr.-nnatic unity and the impressive 
beaut}' of the scenes from the New. 
The more thoroughly to appreciate this, 
let any one who has been at Ober- 
Ammergau during the sunnner i-emem- 
bcr how wonderfully he was imjiressed 
by that section of the Fassion-ri.ay 
which portrays the wanderings and trials 
of Christ from the time he enters .le- 
rnsalem mitil, having taken leave; of the 
peo|)le. after driving the money-changers 
from the Temple, he retires with his dis- 
ciph's to Bethany. There is a solid, 
colu'rent liit of drama, exquisitel}' i)re- 
sented, and if the story were carried 
straight on. without any interference of 
Old Testament history, the result would 
be vastly more im[)Osing. Of course, 
the gentle wood-carvers and housewives 
of Ober-Annnergau, if asked to change 
in any manner the arrangement of the 
mystery, would reply with a " Non 
Pofifiitiiiiiti," from which there would be 
no appeal. 

The first two tableaux, which are 
symlwlical of the fall of man and the 
redemption, are not especially in)i)res- 
sive. Atlam and Eve, in flesh-colored 
tights and garments of skins, have a 
very theatrical lo(jk. The angel with 
the flaming sword looks like a rather 
robust young woman, dressed in blue 
and white. There is n(_)tiiiug whatever 
aerial or angelic aliout her. and the 
serpent twining round the ap|)le-tree is 
suggestive of papier marhe. But the 
solemn chant of the chorus is touching, 
and thoroughly exiihiins the idea which 
the author of the mystery had in his 
minil : — 

" DocJiToii Feme von Calvarias Ilohcn. 
Leuclitut durcli die Naelit cin Jlorjjcngluliin 
Alts dcs Kreuz bau/acs Zweigen AVuhen. 
Friedenslufte durch die }\'dtcn hiif..^^ 

The second talA-au represents a host 



800 



EUROI'K IN STORM AND CALM. 



of little children, (lresse<l in white, kiieel- 
iiii:; ;it the foot of the cross. Some of 
these village babes are attired as augels. 
This is pretty, but it gives one, as a pri- 
mary impression, a feeling of disappoint- 
ment, destined, fortunately, to pass 
away almost immediately. The chorus 
marches slowly, with trailing robes and 
solemn step, off from the staije to left 
and right, and the ciirtaiu in the centre 
is once more lowered. Here the illusion 
once more seizes upon the lieholder, nor 
does it leave him readily. He has 
before him two streets, right and left, 
and these have suddenly been peopled 
with men, women, and cliildrcn, in 
liright Oriental costumes. Little children 
run to and fro, utteiing joyful cries 
and waving [lalni-Iiranches ; grave elders 
advance slowly, conversing together 
on some event of marked importance : 
and the women are wild with joy. 
Down the central street and under a 
frowning gate-way fliey come ; men 
uprise from bazaar and stall to join 
them, and pi'esently oui' sees (I know 
that in my own case it was with a joyful 
emotion, which I should have been at a 
loss to analyze) the ligure of the Sav- 
iour mounted upon an ass, moving 
forward in the midst of his disciples. 
The iini)ression of reality is greatly 
heightened by tiio leisurely manner in 
whicii this scene is enacted. Everything 
moves as naturally as in real life ; and 
the crowd increases so ra[iiilly that it is 
dillicult for one to [x-rsuade himself that 
he is not witnessing a genuine outpour- 
ing from a glad capital's streets. 

Arrived on the proscenium, the Sav- 
iour nli'jhls. and cumcs forward gi'aee- 
fr.lly auil with humility. He does not 
shrink from the homage bestowed. b:il 
implies by his gestures that it is not 
for himself, but for a higher [lower of 
whicli he is only the instrument. As he 



pauses in the midst of his disciples, and 
utters, while the hosannas of the multi- 
tude are dying away, those memorable 
words, " The hour is come that the Son 
of Man should be glorified. Verily, 
verily, I say unto you, except a corn of 
wheat fall into the ground and die, it 
abideth alone ; but if it die, it bring- 
eth forth much fruit," his figure is 
instinct with gracious piety. .loseph 
Maicr, who personates the Saviour, is of 
good stature and remarkably fine figure ; 
his face, although not very spiritual in 
rei>ose, has, when he is speaking, some 
[lathetic lines ; his features are not so 
distinctly Oriental as were those of his 
predecessor, Tobias Flunger, but his 
pose is nolile, and his long black hair 
and his symmetrical beard add to liis 
propliet-like appearaiu'e. In his simple 
robes he walks like one who feels the 
dignity of an inspired Uiission, vet who 
is keenly sensible of his humanity. 
Tliere are five hundred persons on the 
stage in this remarkable scene, and I 
think it is safe to say that not one of 
them ap|iears awkward or ill at ease, so 
perfect has every one's training been. 
The high-priests and a group of I'liari- 
sees approach, locskiug wouderingly at 
this strange central figure, with its sweet 
resonant voice, its gentle gestures, and 
its mildness. 

The curtain of the central stage rises, 
disclosing the interior of the Temple, 
with the money-changers trading across 
their tables and with the hulibul) of 
traflic rising among the sacred colunms. 
The Saviour looks at this scene of pro- 
fanity for a time, then folds his hands 
and bows his head in silent [iraver. 
When his prayei' is finished, he advances 
to the Tem[)le. utters the famous protest, 
and asks the priests how they can look 
on silently and see such sacrilege. 
"Who is this man?" cry the money- 



EUROPE I.V STORM AND CALM. 



801 



changers and the priests. " It is tlio 
great prophet from Nazareth," answers 
the crowd, and meantime Jesus, ad- 
vancing among the frightened traders, 
catelies np a rope which liad been used 
to bind Iambs for the sacrifice and 
scourges the men forth. This is d(;ne 
in most realistic fasliion ; the tables are 
overturned ; tlie money-cliangers grovel 
in their gold ; "the seats of them that 
sold doves " arc upset, and tlie birds 
flutter away in all directions. At this 
juncture, Caiaphas flies into a great rage, 
and makes several pnssiouate addresses 
to the people. Sadoc. of the Council, 
demands Christ's authority fur his inter- 
ference. INIoses is invoked as the only 
true propliet, and the Pharisees and 
priests are doing their I)est to inflame the 
people's minds against the new [n'ophet, 
when Jcsns and his disciples de[)art for 
Betliany. One view of this superli scene, 
which from lirst to last contains nothing 
that can (iffcnd the susce[)tibilities of 
the most reverent si)ectator, is ini)rc 
useful in fixing forever in the mind tlif 
mournful story tlian a hiuidred readings 
of Matthew. Mark, Luke, and John. It 
sticks in the mind as a bit of masterly 
painting does. 

Caiaphas is nn important personage 
in the Passion-Play. He makes, I think, 
the longest speeches, and his stately 
figure, in its rich garments, moves 
to and fro through the piece with great 
effect. Caiaphas is played by Johann 
Lang, who, I believe, was once tlie 
Burgomaster of Ober-Ammergau. He 
has a grand head, and the priestly coif- 
fure brings out all the good points in his 
face to great advantage. The disciples 
are alm<jst without excei)tiou very sat- 
isfactorily rei>reseuted. If any failed, 
it was John, who did not quite seem to 
reach our ideal of the beloved one. But 
the figures of Peter and Judas had a 



strange fascination for me. They are 
reproductions from the ''old masters'" 
conceptions of those disciples, and they 
have by long practice become astonish- 
ingly proficient in movement and group- 
ing, so as constantly to remind one of 
the paintings from which tlie modern 
Christian world lias formed its ideal. 

There was an atmosphere of quaiut- 
ness, of rough, commonplace greed, 
about Judas, which never deserted hitn, 
not even in the moment of his suicide. 

The acting of the Apostles is emi- 
nently realistic, at least it was when I 
saw them ; there was no ranting, no 
whining, no ostentation. These were 
real men ; every spectator felt it. Jacob 
Hett, who personates Peter, and Lech- 
ner, who /.s Judas — for lu' is so natural 
that no one can conceive of him as acting 
— are, like Maier. wood-carvcrs. Hett's 
specialty is the production oC small cru- 
cifixes, and Lecliner is very skilful iu 
the same line. A ladv frienil tuld me 
th;it she was lodged at the house of 
.fudas, and that he worked late at his 
carving-bench on tlie night before the 
performance. 

Judas, as represented in this luvstery, 
awakens a feeling of compassion. It is 
impossible to consider him as anything 
else than the unwitting victim of a su- 
preme power, singled out to bring on the 
great sacrifice. He is wordj', is poor 
Judas, on the road to Bethany, although 
he tries his best not to be so. II is bellv 
is emiity ; the cool night-air of the 
mountains trouble him, and he is afraid 
of coming catastrophe. When he 
repents of his mighty crime, and, in 
agony of grief and liuiniliatii)n, throws 
the sack containing the pieces of silver 
at the foot of the vile tribunal into 
whose merciless keeping iie has sold his 
Lord, the whole public feels a vast pity 
for him. When Judas was playing this 



802 



EUnOPK IN STORM ASD CAL.V. 



sciMio on the day that I saw the Passioii- 
Phiy. a thick, lieavy rain-storm wasponr- 
iuij on tlie heads of tiie three thousand 
peasants and other nnfortunate peoph' 
who were in the uncovered seats ; but 
not one individual arose to leave his or 
her seat. Judas held them all liy the [las- 
sionate natural vehemence of his acting. 
Even in the little question. •• Is it I?" 
at the l^ast Su[iper, tliere is a note of 
human ani^uish, uliich dues not fail tci 
start i'es|]i)nsive leai's in the eyes of the 
spectators. IJut I am pioeeedini;' a little 
to(j far aheail. 

From the moment that the an<i'er of 
the priests and money-changers is 
aroused, Christ's doom is clearly fore- 
shadowed in every pait of the mystery 
until the end comes. After the scene 
in the Temple the chorus returns, and 
sings the prelude to a tabJedn which 
discloses the sons of Jacob conspiring 
against their brother Joseph ; and a 
moment after, a second tnhlcan. portray- 
ing the wicked brethren as about to 
east Joseph into the well on the plain 
of Dothan, is shown. These are sup- 
posed to l)e emlilematical of the [)erse- 
cution which Christ was doomed later 
to suffer. They are more vigorously 
conceived and I'iehly dressed than the 
preceding ones fiom the Old Testament. 
But when the central curtain rises and 
displays the maguilicent -'set" of the 
Sanliedrim. in which the high-iu'iests 
of the synagogue are discussing meas- 
ures to be taken against the pr»i)het of 
^sazarelh. one cannot help regretting 
that the unity of the action is inter- 
rupted by tuhlt'iin.c. 

■ This Sanhedrim scene is very realistic. 
Cjiiaphasin suiierb dress, with his breast- 
plate ornamented with twelve precious 
stones, |iresides. Annas, robed in white, 
sits near him, and the others are ranged 
awjund the rooms in tribunes. The dis- 



cussion is long and stormy. The money- 
changers are sent for, and come in to 
suggest a vindic-tive programme. One 
of them announces that he thinks he 
knows a disciple who will betray the 
}n'0|ihet. At this statement the Sanhe- 
drim l)reaks H[i joyfully, and the cuitain 
falls, leaving tlie si)ectator impressed 
with the reality of a scene which has 
been enacted on a rude stage in a 
meadow in an obscure mountain region. 
Then come two other intrusive tab- 
Irtdix, one showing young Tobias taking 
leave of his parents, and the other the 
Mourning Bride of the Canticles. These 
are intended to lead the minds of the 
audience up to the scene of the depart- 
ure of Christ from Bethan\ and his 
leave-ttdcing of his mother. jVnd now 
Christ and his disci})les appear in jjict- 
urescpie procession before the house of 
Simon. Here the illusion of Oriental- 
ism is well sustained. The gestures of 
those wlio come to invite Christ to 
enter the banquet-room, their costumes, 
their gait, all are grave. Eastern, and 
filleil with a certain quaintuess which 
is not witliout its force. It was in this 
scene in Simon's house, as it seemeil to 
me, that ,I<ise[)li Maier, as the perscjn- 
ator of Christ, achieved one of his [ii-in- 
ciiial triumphs. Here he was the man, 
suffering from fatigue, fi'om persecu- 
tion, from a foreboding of the trial to 
come ; but his [iresence was noble and 
his dignity noticeable. Just as he has 
seated himself, and while JNIartlia is 
waiting ui)ou the Innjgry and tirecl dis- 
ciiiles, Mary Magilalen, whom the 
Ober-Ammergau dramatists consider 
as the same as JMary the sister of 
jSIartha, rushes in, and throwing herself 
at the feet of Jesus, proceeds to anoint 
them with costly ointment. "When the 
woman kneels before him, Maier cries out 
"Maria!" and rises with that startled, 



EUROPE IN SrOIlM A\D CALM. 



803 



deprecatoiyair which auy pure and nobki 
man would put ou when finding himself 
adored by beauU". I thought it a real 
stroke of genius. But when Judas 
comes shuffling forward in his dirty 
yellow gown, and tries to quarrel witli 
the Magdalen for wasting so much 
money in ointment, and the actor arises, 
saying, '• Let her alone, she hath 
wrought a good work on me," the con- 
trast from meekness to sudilen assump- 
tion of authority is exceedingly striking. 
I think that Simon and his family 
as actors would juit to shame a good 
many stock actors in our minor theatres. 
It is true that they have the traditions 
of two hundred and fifty years, during 
which this Mystery Pla\", in one form 
or another, has been carried on, to help 
them ; but, even with that inheritance, 
it is odd that they should be so clear, 
remote as they are from the refining 
and educating influences of any large 
theatre. I suspect, however, tiiat 
neither the leading nor the minor char- 
acters in the ' • Myster}' " would thank 
us for praising tliem as actors. They 
are filled with the idea that the func- 
tions which they perform are religious, 
and they at all times think more of the 
religion than of the art. It is very 
evident that all the peasants and the 
mass of Catholic German visitors to 
the Passion share this feeling. 

The Passiou-Play is not fortunate in 
its women interpreters. She who plays 
Mary is sincere, and avoids any very 
sharp criticism, but her acting nowhere 
rises to the level of that sliown by the 
personators of Caiaphas, Peter, and 
Judas. The only .scene in which it ap- 
peared to me that Mary was sulliciently 
effective was in the meeting with the 
Saviour as he is about to leave Bethany. 
Joseph Maier has a ricli, melodious voice : 
perhaps there is a slight tinge of 



artificiality in its pathos, but in gener.al 
it was very agreeable ; and when he mur- 
murs in the ear of the kneeling mother 
" How am I prepared to consecrate my 
work of atonement ? " I saw many a 
tearful face around me. The tears arise 
unbidden at the sight of this Bible made 
flesh, this living and breathing New 
Testament. I know tliat as I sat gazing 
at this scene, a vision of my childhood 
arose before me, — - tiie old school-house 
with its worn benches, the tender breeze 
of a New England sunnner morning that 
swayed the delicate petals of the flow- 
ers on the teacher's desk, and the soft 
voices of the scholars as they read the 
sacred book. If my youthful imagi- 
nation had been touched and fired by 
such scenes as this Passion-Play con- 
tains, how tremendously vital would 
have been my memory of every slightest 
circumstnnce in the mysterious and holy 
drama which began at the Temple and 
ended at Calvary ! But would a Passion- 
Play lie possible among the New Eng- 
land hills? ^lary, in an agony of grief, 
beseeches her sou not to risk his pre- 
cious life, and the women with her join 
with Simon in urging her to enter tlie 
hitter's house, and to repose. This scene 
never fails to produce immense effect ; 
and its climax is found, as the curtain 
falls, in the sombre attitude of Judas, 
who is still meditating over the squan- 
dering of money by the Magdalen ou 
the ointment, and who mutters, "• Those 
three hundred pence that she spent 
would have been enough for me. With 
them I could have lived content." 

And so the holy drama moves stead- 
ily on. The little band of disciples, hud- 
dled around the Master, goes back to 
Jerusalem. It is useless to attempt a 
description of all the pictures which fol- 
lor: one another in rapid succession 
until the famous scene of tlie Last Sup- 



804 



EI'ROPE IX STORM A\!> I'AL.V. 



per is reached. The OM Testaniep.t 
tdhlraii, which is supposed to prclimin' 
Ciirist's rejection of tlie Jews us a |uui- 
ishiiieiit of their sins, is tliat of Aliasn- 
eriis i)utting away ^'ashti and talking 
Estlicr in lier stead. This flits away 
like tile memory i)f a (h'l'am, and wliile 
the leaih'r of the eliorns is still address- 
ing his warning to Jerusalem, our atten- 
tion is invited to a grou|) u|i(iu tlie brow 
of the IMouut of Olives. In the distance 
lies the Holy City, owr tlie unhappy per- 
versity of which the ^Master wee[)s. 

Here occurs a very dramatic scene, 
am|ily and nobly written out in dramatic 
form, wherein the discijiles learn tiiat 
Christ goe.s towards his doom, and en- 
<leavor to dissuade him from it. At 
last Peter and .Toliii are scut forward to 
jirepare the feast of the Pa.ssover, and 
Judas, who is afraid to go to Jerusalem, 
and is selfishly anxinus that the ^Master 
should provide for his sustenaii<-e, in- 
dulges in a long and powerful solilo(iiiy. 
ill whicli avarice and eonscience struggle 
for the mastery. INIeautiiiie, the spies 
of the Sanhedrim and the money-changers 
arrive, and Judas falls an easy prey to 
their propositions. lie stifles his better 
nature, ami rashes wildly off to Jerusa- 
lem, there to watch his chance fur the 
^Master's betrayal. This scene is pre- 
senteil with a gra|ihic foriv and intensity 
wliieh never fails to impress the s|)ee- 
tators. The monev-chaugers are in gi'im 
eariH'st, Judas's anguish of mind is ri'al, 
an<l, \\n\^ manifestations of ap|ilanse 
allowed in tlie theatre, there is no doubt 
that there WH>uld be iilenty of them at 
this point in the mystery. 

The next scene shows Peter and John 
seeking out the Ik.iusc of Jlark in Jeru- 
salem, — a fine little bit of realism, — 
intelligently acted, witii an immense 
amount of detail ; and then comes tlie 
act of the Last Supper, [irefaced by i)er- 



haps the finest Did Testament tahlcdu in 
the Passion-Play, — the sending down of 
manna to the Israelites in the wilder- 
ness. In this living picture one hun- 
dred and fifty children and nearly twice 
that number of grown jjersons are en- 
gaged. ]\I(jses and .\aron occupy prom- 
inent positions in tlu'foregniund ; youths, 
maidens, mothers with babes in arms, 
all are stretching out their hands or 
raising their eyes thankfully to heaven, 
from whence the manna gently descends 
like snow. A second ttdileaii^ showing 
the spies returning from tlie Promised 
Land, follows this superb one. 

It is said that all those persons whose 
religious feelings are somewhat aroused 
against the performance of the sacred 
ceremony of the sacranientof the Lord's 
Sufiper on the stage, go away with their 
olijeetious removed after they have seen 
the Passion-Play : fi^r, in this part of 
the Passion, Josepii JIaier and those 
who surround him are entitled to the 
highest [iraise. They do not fall short 
of the mark ; theii' work has a sacred 
(juality in it. A tremendous sincerity 
underlies tlieir every action. The cur- 
tain rises on the hall in ^Mark's house, 
and as the discii)les cuter and group 
themselves at the table, it is ea.sy to see 
at a glance that they reproduce Leo- 
nardo da Vinci's noted |)icture. Every 
attitude is closely reproduced ; Peter 
sits on tlu; right, John on the left of the 
Saviour. The ceremony of tlie distribu- 
tion of tiie iiread and the wine is per- 
formed with the greatest dignity and 
sweetness by Joseph ^laier. Tiiis re- 
markable .scene lasts more than half an 
hour, and the aggregation of detail in it 
is so enormous that it burns itself into 
the senses as real. The washing of the 
disciples' feet by the blaster is done in 
the most I'everent manner. That these 
men should be able, Sunday after Sun- 



EUROPE IX SrORM AXD CALM. 



805 



day, to go througli tlii.s ceremony without 
fatigue or blunder, with grace and rev- 
erence, and with si)iritual entluisiasni, 
proves that tiiey feel a certain consecra- 
tion for the work. The peasants in the 
audience take most intense interest in 
this supper; its representation is an act 
of high religion for them. The old 
women, with tear-stained faces, gaze at 
the form of the Saviour bending over 
the feet of Peter, and when they hear 
the apostle say, " Thou shalt never wash 
my feet," and hear Christ answer, " If I 
wash thee uot, thou hast no part with 
me," they are terribly moved. While 
the foot-washing is in jjrogress. soft 
music is heard, and singers intone a 
liynm. The coiumunion is oelelirated 
next, and some little relief is afforded 
to the audience, which has lieen spell- 
bound, while the sacred broad and wine 
are given by Christ to the disciples, 
when Judas receives the sop and rushes 
confusedly from the chamber. Perhaps 
the best feature of this part of the Pas- 
sion is the affliction of the disciples when 
the Master has given the cup, and says. 
" As often as ye do tliis, doit in remem- 
brance of me." They show their fears 
that he is to be taken from them, and 
John lays his head upon the Saviour's 
breast, while Judas sits moodily eying 
the dishes on the table. This is most 
happily conceived. 

The )>ctrayal follows in a series of 
weird pictures which arc like relievos. 
Each one embodies an important inci- 
dent. Tiie curtain rises to show us 
Joseph sold to the ilidianites for twenty 
pieces of silver. — type of the action which 
Judas is about to commit. This scene 
is prepared with great care ; the costumes 
of the Midianites, the heads of tlie camels 
appearing througl, the foliage of the 
oasis, the attitude of young Joseiih stand- 
ing stripped of his coat of many colors. 



and endeavoring to defend himself from 
the brutality of his brethren. Every- 
thing in the living picture is studied with 
perfect attention to truth. Tliis vanishes, 
and the chorus closes in to sing a quaint 
reproof to Judas, who is about to follow 
the example of the wicked brethren. 

And now the triljunal of the Sanhe- 
drim ap|iears once more before us ; 
Caiaphas and Annas are addressing the 
council in the most violent manner, and 
demand that the GJalilean be put to death 
as soon as he is captured. The discus- 
sion which ensues is eminently natural ; 
and when Nicodemus and Joseph of 
Arimathea utter their famous protests, 
and step down from their seats, de- 
claring that they will have nothing 
to do with the deed of blood, a thrill 
runs through the vast audience. Judas 
arrives, accompanied by the money- 
changers, and the money which is to pay 
for the betrayal is counted out to him. 
The figure of the old man in his j'ellow 
gown, trying each piece on one of the 
tables of the Temple, and then placing it 
in the b.ag at his side, is sinister and re- 
pulsive. Joseph and Nieodemus are 
reviled by the priests, and the council 
breaks up «'ith cries for the blood of the 
prophet who has dared to interfere with 
the corrupt practices in the Temple. 
Next wc are shown Adain digging to get 
his bread by the sweat of his brow, and 
Joab giving Amasa a kiss while he 
plunges a dagger into his heart, Adam's 
toil typifying Gethsemane. and Joab the 
treachery of Judas's kiss. 

The great space of the proscenium is 
used with effect in a host of by-play 
which adds immensely to the realism. 
For iustance, just before we are shown 
the scene in Gethsemane's Garden, we 
sec the betrayer and a delegation of 
priests, escorted by a line of Roman sol- 
diers, pass silently across the stage. 



806 



KUROrE /.V STOHM AXO CALM. 



Then till' I'lirtaiii rises iqion the j\Ii>nnt 
of Olives, Mini the Saviour, aceoinpaiiied 
by his weary disciples, appears. Peter, 
James, and .Tolm are to watch with tlie 
Mail of Sorrows, but they one by one 
fall aslecii, and the Redeemer is left 
alone witli liis prayer. Maier's acting 
here is full of strong self-control ; it is 
never sensational, but always simple and 
natural in the highest degree. The tradi- 
tions of the mystery demand that blood 
should be seen flowing down the Saviour's 
cheeks at the close of his mournful crj', 
" Take away this cup from me ; neverthe- 
less, not as I will, but as Thou wilt." 
The figure kneeling on the rocks, with 
hands outstretched in supplication, and 
with an angel hovering alx)ve it, docs 
not move when the clash of arms is 
heard, and the betrayer arrives. But 
the disciples huddle togetlier iu con- 
sternation. Out of the darkness sud- 
denly spring tlie lights of torches and 
lanterns, and Judas, advancing, greets 
the Saviour and kisses him. When Christ 
declares himself, the soldiers fall to the 
ground, dropjiing their spears, and the 
priests and traders are in conunotion ; but 
presently Malchus, with his comrades, 
comes to bind Christ Peter strikes his 
noted blow of defense, but is rebuked by 
the Saviour, when the soldiers brutally 
push the cai)tive forward, and march off 
into the night with iiim. These soldiers 
are played with considerable skill Iiy vil- 
lagers wlio have had long traming. Tlieir 
dress, their wea[)ons, and their manners, 
have been made the subjects of careful 
research. Tiiey give wonderful cliai-acter 
to their tritliug mh's. 

With the departure of Jesus in tlie 
l.ionds of his cajitors, and the lamen- 
tations of Peter and John, whc have 
shrunk away from following their Ijoni 
and Master, the lirst part of the Passion- 
Play closes, and the spectator, after three 



and a half lioiiis of close attention, is 
not sorry to got into the street and to 
rest ills brain from the sombre impres- 
sions of the last few scenes. The thou- 
sands of people hasten .away in all direc- 
tions to their dinners. At table, in the 
hotels, one is served by a jMidianite ; has 
his boots blacked by one of the sons of 
Jacob, and his coat brnshed by a Roman 
soldier ; a Jewish maiden brings him a 
glass of beer ; a priest hires a carriage 
in which to leave town at the close of 
the afternoon's performance ; and Judas 
goes to take a look at his wood-carving. 

The peasantry, on the day that I was 
present, were soaked with rain, and this 
doul)tless accounted for the fact that 
during the intermission, on the plan of 
simih'd .'iimil/lins, they drank enormous 
quantities of beer. Most of them con- 
tented themselves with frugal meals of 
bread and sausage, and were back in 
their jilaces long before the cannon tired. 

The second half of the Passion-Play is 
nnquestionalily the most impressive, al- 
though it seems to me that no other por- 
tion of the mystery is so finely executed 
as that embracing the departure from 
Bethany and the Last Supper. But the 
interest is so concentrated in the second 
part upon the meek, shrinking, pathetic 
figure of Christ, that one thinks of little 
else. From the moment of the arrest, iu 
the garden of Gethsemane, Heir Maier 
personifies the Saviour as the sufferer 
for the sins of the world ; he is as cl.ay 
in the hands of the potter : his slender 
form bends beneath the blows wliieh it 
receives ; his face is pale : his limbs are 
wealv : bii t he is of majestic sweetness and 
noble in his humility. After having seen 
liiiii ill this character I renounced all 
iilea (if a ]irivate interview with him, 
fearing that 1 iiiight be shocked at the 
contrast belweeii the man's private life, 
however trood it might be, and the 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



807 



marked excellence of his assmiiption of 
the Saviour's cliaraeter in the Passion- 
riay. 

A distingni.slied — the most distin- 
guished — Anieriean actor, who visited 
the Passion-Play this summer, professed 
a certain sense of disappointment. 
He was jirodiaal <if compliments for 
the }narvellous pictnresqueness and force 
displayed by the peasantry in their act- 
ing and their use of costumes ; but that 
they were men of genius he was inclined 
to deny. '• In fact," he said witli a 
smile, " we had had our minds so worived 
up by the gorgeous accounts furnislied 
of this play that we were prepared to })e 
contented witli nothing less than tlie 
supernatural." He argued that it was 
impossible, also, for an actor, in looking 
on at this spectacle, to take a uon-iiro- 
fessional view of it, and to forget that 
the players in the great morality aim to 
be devotional rather than auytiiing else. 
I should not like to have it said that I 
have exaggerated the merits of the 
mystery. But doulitless the imagination 
plays a poweiful part, wlien one re- 
cords his impressions of this curious 
mosaic wrought together on the bare 
boards of a tiieatre with such loving 
care and patience. 

In the afternoon the performance 
began at one o'clock, on the day when I 
witnessed it, and it was rather amusing 
to see the discomfited peasants hasten- 
ing baclv, with their bread and cheese in 
their hands and the water dripping fiom 
their garments. The chorus .sang, 
Begoiinen ist der Kaiiipf der Schmer- 
zen, and the piteous story was brought 
promptly before us. First Cln-ist was 
haled before Annas, and here the 
rude realism of the actors was in some 
small cases repulsive. This scene, like 
those which innnediately followed it. was 
acted with great di<>nitv. Maior, in his 



personation of tlie Saviour from this 
point in tlie mystery forward to the cru- 
cilixion, allows himself to appear 
literally like clay in tlie hands of the 
potter ; he is the patient sufferer for the 
sins of others ; his eloquence is mute, 
and his humility is imposing. For the 
sake of convenience I will pass nver the 
Old Testament tableaux, whieli, in tliis 
second division of the Passion, are 
shown before each episode in tlie life of 
the Saviour, and will review thoin later. 
After the scene before Annas, the cen- 
tral curtain rises, and we are shown a 
room in tlie house of C'aia[)has. On a 
dais the liigii-priest, dressed in splendid 
rolx's, stands, surrounded by his subor- 
dinates, and the bound Saviour is puslied 
in liefore him. From another entrance 
arrive Samuel and the five witnesses. 
Tlie imiiressivc presentation of the 
episode in which the Saviour declares 
himself, — " Tliou hast said ; nevertheless 
I say unto you, hereafter shall ye see 
the Son of man sitting on the right hand 
of power, and coming in the clouds of 
heaven," was exceedingly striking. 
Caiaphas indulged in a fine fit of rage at 
what he considered this blasphemy ; 
there was a great clamor, and the assem- 
bly bi-oke out with cries of "Death! 
Death ! " after the Saviour had been 
ordered to appear before the Sanhedrim 
on the morrow. The curtain fell and the 
gloomy picture of Judas in his gown of 
startling color, appeared once more. 
.Judas was stung to his conscience's 
quick, and his soliloquy was given with 
a real jiatiios. Shortly afterward came 
a scene which has provolved no little 
criticism in the orthodox world, l)ecause 
of its intense realism. It represents 
Christ sitting, bound and blindfolded, 
on a stool in an anteroom of the Sanhe- 
drim. The brutal soldiers are tor- 
menting him. I confess that it seemed 



808 ErRori: ix storm axd calm. 

to 1110 noodlessly prolonijcd and iiniiifiil. ever laughs at the agoiij' of .Tudas. It 
The soldiers beat their captive, sang seems real and fiiUj" justifies the eiieonii- 
nide songs in his ears, tijiped liiui over, unis lavished upon it by eelebrities in the 
and said. ''Now if thou art a King, get histrionie world. Wlicii the enrtaiu rises 
upon thy throne again," and thrust a again we are iu the .Sanhedrim. The 
orowii of thorns upon his tortured riehly-rol)ed priests are in their plaees, 
lirows. I eould hear the deep breathing exulting iu the savage decision which 
of the peasants in the seats below ine they have lately made, when Judas, hag- 
while this was in progress. The ladies gard and ferocious, rushes in, and in 
seated near nie turned away their faces passionate reproach curses the assembly 
and woulil not look. for the sad work to which it lias tempted 

.Tust before thi> occurs the scene in him. The high-priests sueeringly bid 

which Peter betrays his blaster, accord- him cease his clamor. He seizes the 

ing to till' i)rophecy. It is ([uaintly con- money-bag at his girdle, hurls it down 

ccived and exeenteil. \Vc arc ^liown a at the foot of the blood-stained tribunal, 

large hall, with a lievy of querulous maids and rushes out of the hall, leaving the 

lighting a lire, each one of them abusing priests quaking ui)on their seats with fear 

the Saviour lienitilv. Peter and .Tohii and indignation. There is a brief interval 

come in and try to warm themselves with- in the tragedy of Juda.s, in which we are 

out exciting observation. While Peter is shown a delegation of priests before the 

rulibiiig his hands before the flames one house of Pilat<'. A Koman servant steps 

of the women points him out and de- out and eyes them scornfully. They tell 

n(iuiic<'s him. He prote^^ts, and imme- him that they cannot enter his master's 

dintelv thi' cheerful noti's of cliantieh'cr house, because it is the residence of an 

are heard behind the scenes. As this is unclean heathen, l>ut that they can speak 

rei)eated for the third time, there is the with him if he will appear in his balcony, 

clash of arms, the soldiers who have lieeii This elicits fr<.)ni the servant the well 

lounging off duty spring to their feet, and known reproof about straining at a gnat 

tlie Saviour eutors, guarded by a dozen and swallowing a camel, and the delega- 

iiu'u. •■ He is sentenced to death," says timi passes on. 

Seli>ha, very simiilv ; ancl Peter, shrinking TIk' ciutaiu rises on the suicide of 

awav from tlie miM and sorrowful gaze Judas. We are shown a wild. weird spot, 

of the inan-God, bursts into tears, covers in the centre of which is a small mound 

his face with liis hands and departs, with a tree gr(jwing upon it. I notice 

This is stirring .-ind dramatic, and is s(5 that i\Ir. Jackson, in his line work on the 

well played liy the actors that for a Passion-Play. alludes to a Satan which in 

moment it assumes all the [)roportions of the mysteries of the ^Middle Ages used to 

reality. ^Vt the close of this part of the beckon to Juilas from the liranehes of 

play we are shown Peter pouring out his this tree. Ilaiipilyall such mummery as 

soul in a violent torrent of self-reproach, this was long ago abandoned, and all 

AVords are sadly incomiietent for the poor Judas sees is the image of his de- 
description of the act in which Judas, spair beckoning him on to death. The 
in rage and despair at his own folly, takes acting which precedes the final despairing 
his life. A certain class of spectators suicide is remarkably good. Judas does 
profess here and there to discern laugh- not rant nor mouth, but he delivers the 
able places in the Passion-Play, buit uo one beautiful and affecting lines which Pastor 



KVRDPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



809 



Daisenbei'ger lias put into his iiiDutli. with 
great dignitv aiul patiios, and now ami 
then a certain grim sorrow, whieli outs to 
the heart. Judas then ruslies to tlie tree, 
and is about to hang himself as the 
curtain falls. As I have remarked in the 
previous chapter he is the Judas of the 
Catholic world, — a Judas who is but an 
unfortunate instrument in the liands of a 
supernatural power, — a Judas for whom 
we feel decided pity .as (he victim of fate. 
The characters of Pilate and Ilerod in 
the Passion-Play are assumed with nmi-ii 
skill. Pilate appears upon his lialcony, 
accompanied liy his guard, and listens to 
the nois}' aecusatious of the liigh-priests 
and Jews who bring Cin-ist before him. 
He treats them all with mild contempt, 
as members of a conqucrnl race, l)ut 
shows an earnest desire to do justice. 
In this scene the smallest details are 
lovingly elaborated until the patience of 
the audience is perhaps a trille tired. 
A messenger enters and tells Pilate of 
his wife's dream. The just Roman 
governor is struck by the vision wiiich 
his wife has had. and he cries out, ■• Is 
this man from Galilee?" — •' Yes," cries 
the r.abble, "he is sim|)ly a (laiilean; 
he is from Nazareth, in the territory of 
King Ilerod." — "Then take him to his 
own king ; Ilerod hatli come to Jerusa- 
lem to celebrate the feast; let this man 
be taken before him ; " and Pilate retires 
from the balcony, leaving the angiy 
priests and the mob to follow the bountl 
and helpless Saviour to Henxl's palace. 
The scene before the mou.-irch is verv 
impressive. It is a room in the t:"ntral 
stage, with Herod on a golden throne, 
dressed in velvet gni-nislied with silver 
and white. ^\'hen ('hrist is brouglit 
before him. Herod rallies him. taunts 
him, says, ■• If you are a [iropiiet, or a 
god, do a miracle." When he sees that 
nothing can be made of this treatment. 



he ridicules the .Saviour still more, and 
orders the garment of ridicule to l)e 
placed upon him, and a sceptre in his 
hand. It is impossil)le to describe the 
rude realism with which this scene is 
given. Herod dispatches the business 
speedily when he discovers that there is 
no amusement to be had, and sends the 
company back to Pilate. Once more the 
procession arrives un<ler the Roman 
governor's balcony, and clamors for 
blood; then, in obedience to Pilate's 
command, follows the scourging-scene, 
which is snchan exhibition as would not, 
I suspect, be allowed in America. All 
the rough force of the me(lia'val drama 
— the bold, courageous mediieval drama, 
which told the truth and shamed the 
devil — is here. Christ is scourged until 
it seems as it' the human frame can bear 
no more, and his Ijody falls against the 
tormentors. 

The succeeding scenes are painful in 
the highest degree. If the Old Testa- 
ment /iiJiJetiii.v were cut out. and the 
lierformance were thus shortened, the 
interest in these last dramatic pictures 
would doubtless lie inteusilied. The fact 
is that the spectators become so tired as 
hardly to be able t<i appreciate the 
beauty and sublimity of the mystery 
There is one grand musical effect, when 
the chorus, on the proscenium, is telling 
the story, and as a sombre refrain we hear 
in the distance the cries of tiie jiopidace 
foi- the release of Barabbas an<l the 
murder of the Saviour. A striking 
[lictiu'e is formed when Pilate places 
Christ and Bnrabbas side by side on his 
balcony, and asks them wliieli tliey will 
have. Barabbas. and the two thieves 
who are brought on in prison garb, with 
ropes on their hands and feet, are terri- 
fying figures. 

When Pilate lias washed his hands 
and the judgment of death by crucilixiou 



SKI 



KVROPK IX STon.ll AMI CALM. 



bi'twcoii the two tliiovos li;\s lifcn pro- 
iKimiccd iipoii C'lirist, tlie spt'Ctntors 
lictniy, liy niicnsy movements in their 
seats, anil liy-niany expressions, souic- 
tliinit very like a disinelination to wit- 
ness tlie eoniing speetaele. A eertain 
ri'verenee seems to bid tliem look with 
fear ns well as sorrow upon the awfnl 
tragedy of the erneitixion. Peasant 
women sometimes faint when they see 
tlie ))roeession uf the soldiers eondncting 
the S;ivionr to tlie phice of exeeution. 
I am lioniid fo say that these final pi<-t- 
nrcs did nut impress me so mneh as the 
earlier <ines did. But there has rarely 
been nil ;inv stage a more perfect piece 
of "setting" than that given by the 
Otier-Ammerganers in the "liearing of 
the Cross to Golgotha." The soldiers, 
tlie executioners, the centurion, the 
sordid figures of the two thieves drag- 
ging their crosses, and Ilerr Maier's 
.slight form weighed down by the heavy 
burden nntil he falls, as the Saviour fell ; 
the liowling moll, the group of sorrow- 
ing women, and Jlary the mother of 
Christ frantic in her grief, the priests, — 
all surrounded by a group of three or 
four hundred people, — • make a most 
striking iiictiire. I think this painful and 
touching portion of the play covers half 
an hour. Nothing is omitted, from the 
conduct of the good centurion to the 
final resolve of Blary to follow to the 
very foot of the cross. When the jiro- 
cessiou passes on around the corner 
and the last robe is lost to sight, there 
is ;in inimeiise sigh of relief. This 
I'cvivification of sacred history is won- 
derfully exciting and saddening. 

The chorus ajipears in mfniruing gar- 
ments, just befori' the scene of the cruci- 
lixion is disclosed by tlie raising of the 
curtain of the central stage. The music 
at this point is particularly effective. I 
think it is the onlv occasion in which it 



may really be called adequate. The 
sound of hammers is lieard, and, as tlie 
chorus retires, wo arc shown the hill of 
( iolgotha.. The two thieves, tied to their 
crosses, form a most lugubrious spectacle. 
I)Ut .all attention is concentrated on the 
figiu-e of the Saviour on the central 
cross. It is impossible to detect from 
Muv place among the spectators the 
manner iu which Ilerr ilaier is sns- 
[icuded. He seems actually nailed to 
the fatal tree, and the sight i*s so sad 
that one involuntarily turns his eyes 
away. Of course the expedients adopt(^d 
are very simple, and I do not feel called 
upon to describe them. In front of the 
place of execution the men who have just 
finished the crucilixion are playing at 
dice for the garments of tlie victims ; on 
the right stand the priests, reviling him 
whom they believe to bo a false pro(ihct ; 
and at the back of the cross stands Mary 
with her friends, Mary Magdalen, 
.Tosepli of Ariinathea, and Nicodemus 
and John. The whole story as given in 
the gospel is enacted. Nothing could 
be tiller than the noble attitude of Ilerr 
Maier in the last moments on the cross 
when he turns his eyes upon his mother 
and his beloved disciple, and s.ays, 
"Woman, behold thy son!" — "Son, 



behold tliv mother 



ir when, at the 



last great instant he cries Efi iat 
riif/lnicJit! — It is finished! — and his 
head falls to one side. 

The sl(.)rui and the rending of the veil 
of the Temple in twain are but clumsily 
rendered, but the imagination of the 
spectators has been already so worked 
11(1011 that everything seems to them re- 
markable. The executioners proceed in 
the coolest and most brutal manner to 
kill the thieves by breaking their limbs 
and ribs with clubs, after which the cen- 
turion iiierces the side of the Saviour 
with a spear, and a jet of blood springs 



EUROPE IN SrOKM AND CALM. 



Sll 



out. Tlien the tliieves are taken down, 
after which executioners, soldiers, and 
the ahxrmed and superstitions priest- 
hood retire, and the followers of the 
Saviour are left alone with the crncilied 
body. The descent from the cross is 
copied from the noted painting by 
Rubeus, and forms a beautiful group. 
The descent, the mourning, the anoint- 
ment, the placing of the body in the 
sepulchre, are performed with a tender- 
ness, solemnity, and grace, beyond all 
praise. While this was in progress I 
really felt that I was witnessing a 
religions ceremony. 

The resurrection and the ascension are 
but inadequatel}' rei)resented. It would 
be far better for the Ober-Animergauers 
to rest their efforts with the close of 
the crucifixion scene, but one is always 
compelled to bear in mind that they are 
aiming at the recital of the whole story 
— in the fullest if not alw.ays the most 
dramatic manner. The final chorus : — 

" Bringt Lob iiml Prcis ilem Ilachsten dar, 
Dem Liimme das getodtet war, 
Ilalleluja! Halleluja ! " 

produces an exquisite effect. As the 
last members of the chorus disappear 
from the stage at the close of the " As- 
cension," the Passion-Play closes. 

The tableaux from the Old Testament 
in the second portion of this curious 
mystery' are in many respects finer than 
those in the first section, but they do not 
appeal to the sympathies of the specta- 



tors. For instance, just before the res- 
urrection, we are shown " Jonas cast on 
dry land by the whale," — a veritable 
New liugland primer couception of this 
curious event ; and this is followed by 
" the Israelites crossing the Red Sea in 
safety." The bearing of the cross to 
Golgotha is prefigured by " Young Isaac 
carrying the altar-wood \\\i INIt. Moriah ; " 
and the healing and atoning virtues of the 
cross are symbolized by the magical effects 
which Moses produced when he raised the 
brazen serpent on a cross in the wilder- 
ness. In this tableau three hundred 
persons take part. A very noble history 
picture, which I ought to have mentioned 
in its proper place, is "Joseph made 
Ruler over Egypt." In this there are 
evidences that the Ober-Anuucrgauers 
must have spent their money without 
stint in costumes, and the thousand and 
one properties necessary foi' such a re- 
production, a festival in the times of the 
Pharaohs. 

There were various rumors at the time 
that the celebrated mystery will never be 
performed again. Those who are famil- 
iar with the history of the vow made liy 
the Ober-Ammergauers to perform it 
indefinitely every ten years will not 
believe them likely to change their minds. 
It is a beautiful, touching, holy, and 
noble dramatic sketch of the most won- 
derful life and death on record, and he 
who can go away from it without re- 
ceiving some beneficial lessons must 
have a very hard heart indeed. 



>>ll' EUROrE IX SroKM AND CALM. 



CHAPTER NINETY-TWO. 

VicniKi, wlicro (lie E;i-it meets tlie West. — The Empci'oi' of Austria. — His Simple Life. — The Slavs and 
Iliinuariaus. — Berlin and Bismarelv. — The a^ed Oeriiian Kinperor. — .Startling Progress of German 
Industry. — The Thi'ones of the North. — Nihilism and .Socialism. — Colonial Sclicmes. — Pos.sihie 
Aljsorption of the .Small Countries of Europe. 

~r ()N(i l)c fore the new aud a.stoiiish- "And." .said the gentleman, with a 

-L-^ iiio- doveloiinieut of tlie jstrnggling- .sniilc •• I will tfansfer the wiiole lot to 

natiou.'s in soiitli-i'as;teni Europe, — you if you will [lay into my iiands fifty 

development which has been but briefly giililen." 

deseril)ed in these pages, — ^ Vienna was While the fuianeial eraze lasted in 
beginning to fi'el a new eomnicieial iin- sontheiu (ieiuianv there wa.s the iifsiKil 
pulse. :ind to iirolit l>y the wealth [loiu'eil growth of huililiugs, and even the usu- 
into her coffers by speculators, mer- ally sedate :ind cautiou.s government 
chants from the East and West, and liy cauglit the infection, and began a series 
the hiin(h'eds of luxury-loving aristocrats of lofty [liles, parliament houses and 
from all the hiiid.s bordering on the nmnici|ial sti'iictures, which had to re- 
Orieut. Old Vienna, pit'turcsiiiic anil main unfniislied with scaffoldings about 
rather dirty, was gradually environed by them for mtniy a long year after the 
a magnificent '• ring " of stately palaces, corner-stones were hiid. 
not specially remarkable for relined taste. The famous King, or circular l:)Oulevard 
butof iKible pro|)ortions. and. Itiken col- exten<Iing aroimd the whole of old Memia 
lectively. more imposing than anything is one of the ga\est. most [licturesiine, 
else in (iermany. and most charming in'omentides in Eii- 
A'ienna is now a town containing more ro|H'. In fact \'icnna is distinctly gay. 
than one million and one hundred thou- There the p|-imness and ceremonial stiff- 
stiiul inhaliitants within its fortifications, ness of western Eniope begin to fade 
and it would seem as if at least, one-liftli into the harmonious irregularity of the 
of these inhabitants were struggling in Orient. As in lierlin everything seems 
tlie iiKuiey-market for sudden riches. The to be constructed with a view to liring- 
story of the KnicJi, as it was so ap[iro- ing out the angles, so, in Vienna, all the 
priately callecl, — the great linancitd crash corners aic roinided off. Colors are 
which came, :i few years ago, to warn the bi'ight, and ofleii dazzling; music is 
incautious ^'iennese that all was not \dluptuous : wines and sweets, fruits 
gold that glittered, and reduced, in tlie and ices, are disiilayed in tempting 
twinkling of an eve. thousands (if people, profusiun. ( )ut-of-do(ir life alxunids. 
who had fancied themselves milliomures. ami the people are merry and free m 
to absolute beggary, — is ap|ialling. I their manm'rs. They have an abun- 
was (mce shown, while visiting the daiit humor. The town is tilled with 
mansion of :t well-known 'N'ienna gentle- fine horses, linely dressed men, beauti- 
man, a heap of stocks which originally ful women, with soldiers in every con- 
represented 400,000 Austrian gulden, ceivable tint of uniform. The Ettst and 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



813 



the West here touch lumds, Ijiit there 
is a leiming towards the Orient. Aus- 
tria does not bear her name in vain. 
She is the "Empire of the East ; " or, 
rather, she is determined so to lje, de- 
spite Russian intrigue and tlie thouscdid 
obstacles which have weighed upon her 
progress to the sea and towards Con- 
stantinople. The composite character 
of tlie population of the en)i)ire-king- 
dom is felt and seen every wliere. The 
German language, whieli is the oflicial 
one in Austria, and which rules su|irenie 
at the court theatres and at the oiiera, 
is not so often heard in the street as 
the jolly but highly erratic Viennese 
dialect, against whicli tlie nortiiorn 
C4erman may butt his head without 
comprehending it. The southern Slav 
contributes hhu plaintive and imagina- 
tive temperament to the comjjosition of 
the Vienna populace. 

The north Germans say that A'ienna is 
not a German city ; and they say this as 
if it were a reproach. AlllK)ugh the 
Catholic church is the state religion, 
and is powerful, and prominent in all 
public places, maintaining the splendid 
out-of-door processions and ceremonials 
which have been banished from must of 
the northern capitals, there are Greek 
and Armenian Catholics, Protestants, 
Byzantine Greeks and .lews, in plenty 
to maintain their cemeteries, monasteries, 
nunneries, and churches in Vienna. 

In tlie superb cathedral of St. Stepiien, 
which springs with airy grace from its 
ancient site iu the very centre of the old 
city, the Catholic ritual is seen in splen- 
dor such as is scarcely to be found else- 
where outside of .Spain. Close by one 
maj' peep into a Jewish synagogue. The 
old feeling of intolerance, the old pas- 
sion for illiberalism which once charac- 
terized Austrian governments, apjiears 
to have melted away. Austria, under 



the influence of her disasters and the 
cliaiiges rendered necessary by them, 
has become liberal and progressive ; is 
anxious for education, for elevation of 
tlie masses, instead of that military 
glory which was so com|)leteiy over- 
shadowed on the field of .Sadowa. and 
which is such a vanity and vexation of 
spirit even after it is ol)taiiied. 

Tlie Emperor of Austria is one of 
those wise men n'ho has learned by ex- 
perience ; who knows tliat politics is the 
science of expedients, and who has 
moulded himself to the times Once a 
violent opponent of Hungarian expan- 
sion, he has come to be King of Hungary 
as well as Emperor of Austria ; has 
flourished his sword to the four corners of 
tlie earth, and suorn to defend Hungary 
and its people from invasion coming from 
any quarter, and has submitted for years 
with exemplary patience to the predomi- 
nance in the empire-kingdom's ministerial 
councils of Hungarian statesmen, who, on 
the wjiole, have done fairly well for lioth 
countries. He has the tenacity and the 
unfaltering patience of the Ilapsburgs ; 
and he has, too, their noble fortune, 
wliich he uses with taste and with gener- 
osity. One of the richest men in Europe, 
ho fosters literature, music, and art. 
His private library is that of a man of 
letters. He is a careful and conscien- 
tious administrator, — up in the morning 
at five o'clock, winter and sunmu'r, ready 
after prayers for his simple lirealvfast of 
bread and coffee, and tlien at work at 
his desk at eleven, with no eompanion 
save his secretary and one of the long 
cigars, called Virginias, of wliich the 
Viennese are so fond. Towards noon he 
has pot-luck and a glass of beer, like 
the simplest of his subjects ; then works 
on (unless some ceremoin' or state 
affair calls him from the palace) iu his 
private office until dinner-time, when he 



.S14 



Kvuorr. IX sroRM axo r.i/,.i/. 



moots his Ihmily ;uul spends an hour or 
two witii thorn. 

His privato oliico is botwoen liis 
di'ossing-rooni and llir Council liall, in 
■nliioli the ministers moot. 0\or liis 
l)lain oliioe-tablo bang tho |)ortrails of 
his children, and two flue piotiir&s of the 
Empress iiainted by Winterhalter. lie 
h a good listener, is never imperative. 




EMPEROK OF .MTSTRIA 

hates phi'ases and long sp(H'ciies, is 
imaffoetod and sini|]le in his address, 
and now and tlien goes down among 
tho iiooplo, conversing freely with 
them. Tlio C'atiiolie ciun'ch claims his 
hinnlilost devotion. Once every year ho 
i.s seen on fool and liarol]oaile<l, l>ehind 
tho archbishop, walking through tlio 
streets ; and once each yeai', .also, tho 
Emperor and Emjjress attend in a room 
in the palace upon a delegation of the 
poor, whose feet tiiey wash in token of 
humility. The Enqieror. idthough unfor- 
tunate as a soldier, is fond of the armv, 



anil novel' aiipoars to such advantage as 
in uniform. He is an intrepid hunter ; 
fond of the dangerous s|)orts in the 
Austrian Alps, wiiere chasing the cha- 
mois is by no means a pastime for in- 
experienced sportsmen. In tho Hunga- 
rian mountains, as at Schambrunn or at 
Isohl, he may often be seen clad in a 
simple frock, and, with a huge stick in 
his hand, walking tfirough the fields of 
some farm and cliatting with the farmers. 
When he visits Budapest the old Hun- 
garian city brings out its many splendors 
to lay them at his feet ; and lie has tlie 
singular advantage of being a |)opular 
monarch in two countries, radically dif- 
ferent from each other. 

In jnilili<-, at tho opera, at state balls 
or diplomatic receptions, he has tin; 
languid giaoe and elaborate manners 
of tlie aristocracy of which he is the 
head. Austria is one of tho few Eu- 
ropean countries which can still show a 
voritaiilo aristocracy, whose privileges 
have not lieen cut dowu, and who have 
not learned to yield a little in pres- 
ence of the invading demooraoy. The 
mannei's of tlio middle and lower classes 
show that there is little teiideucy as yet 
to assail the aristocrat in his position. 

^'ionna has a sea.son like London, 
when everything is doulilod or tripled in 
price : wdieu every desirable a|iartmeiit 
in tho great hotels and mansions, the 
iinmeroiis pala,ces and villas, is taken up 
by country gentlemen, with interminable 
suites of servants. Then the handsome 
cajiital is wild with exi'itement ; the 
streets are thronged with rapidly rolling 
cai'riages ; the opoi'as ami theatres aie 
packed; the parks are lirilliant with 
equestrians; museums aiul tho fashion- 
able restaurants are filled, and servants 
are eouteut only with gratuities which 
would seem extravagaut and princel\ 
olsewdiore. 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CAJ..W. 



.Slf) 



The Vienna grand opera is incom- 
parably tlie best in Europe. In point 
of scenic eompletoness it is superior to 
that of Paris, while the monument in 
which the opera is shrined is not so 
imposing as the Parisian one. All 
through the pleasant weather the Vien- 
nese adopt every slightest pretest for 
assembling in the beautiful luills with 
which the eit}' is amply supplied, to 
listen to the bewitching nnisic of the 
.Strauss brethren, who are tlie spoiled 
children of Austria, and who sum u\> 
ill their mad waltzes the Viennese 
spirit, its deep iiassiun of the South and 
mysterious languor of the Orient, its 
dash of gyp.sy vagabondage, — all blended 
together in proportions v.'hich, according 
to the verdict of the whole civilized 
world, are positively enchanting. 

The Viennese are the most hospita- 
l)le of peoples, and a more splendid 
succession of fites than that given dur- 
ing the sessions of the International 
Literary Congress, in 1881, has rarely 
been seen. These festivals were held 
both in jiublic halls and in private man- 
sions. The Mayor and niunici[)ality 
entertained in the famous lilumen Saal, 
and hundreds of ladies and gentlemen 
there attended a kind of infcjrmal feast, 
in which the lusty wines from the vine- 
yards about Vienna played a prominent 
part. 

In midsummer there are few more 
charming sights than Vienna, on its 
plain opposite the Blue Danube, with 
the abrupt height of the Kahlenberg 
near by. All around are vineyards and 
gardens ; iiretty valleys leading up to 
rugged mountains ; rich expanses of 
waving green ; ancient villages, mon- 
asteries, and churches. It is but a short 
distance to Presburg, once the pretty 
capital of Hungary, now a sleepy old 
city, literallv emboweied in vines. 



From Vieinia and Budapest one or 
two daily express trains run with deco- 
rous gravity. There is not much social 
iutereoiu'se between tiie two capitals. 
Pest is a superb new- (puirter, as new as 
Chicago, and built uii, like Chicago, out 
of protits made on grain. The Danube 
here is large and majestic, and the con- 
trast of rocky old Ofen oii the right bank 
with new and dazzling Pest on the left 
liank of the stream is most striking. 
From N'ieiuia to Pest the beautiful Aus- 
trian river is literally the lilue Danube, — 
the Danub<> of the Strauss waltzes and 
the po[)ular ballads, — a lovelier stream 
than the Rhine, and flowing past almost 
as many noble ruins as its northern 
.■sister can boast. With this great higli- 
w.ay to the Orient what wonder is it 
that Austria has irresistible tendencies 
towards Constantinople and the East I 

The Hungari;ins, wlio now number 
nearly fifteen millions, are such stern 
enemies of the Russians th.at they are 
glad to see Austria assuming prominence 
as a great Slavic empire, although they 
fear that thej' may themselves one day 
lie surrounded and swamped when the 
great unification of tiie Slavs takes 
l)lace. 

I5etween these ca[iitals of tlie southern 
empire-kingdom and that of the German 
empire, the city of the Ilohenzollerns, 
in its sandy plaiu on either side of the 
Siiree, there is the widest contrast of all 
sorts, and especially in the men who hold 
the helm of state in either. Nowa- 
da_vs in Europe when any one thinks 
of Berlin he also thinks of Bismarck. 
The great Chancellor has dwarfed every- 
thing else in Germany ; his colossal statue 
overtops the Emperor, the talented and 
cultivated Crown Prince, all the shining 
lights of the military part}', and of course 
all the literary and artistic celebrities. 
In fact, so far as the rest of Europe is 



sk; 



KVROi'E IX stohm axd calm. 



coneenictl, (jorinanyH a kind (irliniiin<ius 
iiiiht, out of which arises the towering 
figure of tlie great unilier and wire- 
]uiller. 

Prince Bismarck never fails to jihu'e 
liiniself in the second rank when he is 
siioken <if in connection with (lernian 
politics, Imt he hy no means helicves 




E^rI'^:^,o^, wiLLTA\t ok <iei;maxy. 

that he occn|)ies such rank. He is 
proud of being called tlie ••King's man :" 
but it would be more just to call him 
the mail wlio snpiiorts tlie King, or tlie 
Emperor. 

The aged < u'rmaii sovereign is a line 
figure-head, the hciiu iih'iiJ (if a veteran 
sohlier anil of a finished gentleman, — 
our of the last of the monarchs who 
feel that lliev rule liy incontrovertible 
right, and that if any concession be 
made to pojnilar sovereignty it is out of 
generosity, rendered easy by the security 
of their own jiositions. The Emperor 
has his importance in these later years. 



because it is felt that he is a kind of 
••stop-gap;'" that he stands in the 
breach to iirevent hostile collision be- 
tween the great northern powers which 
have assumed such [iromiuence in the 
last three decades ; in other words, that, 
so long as he livi's, Russia will not fight 
( ierniauy. 

When the Empi-ror 'Villiani disap- 
pears possibly the attitude of Russia to 
Germany may change. The thrones of 
the two countries will be occupied by 
men of uiidis[nited will-power, wide- 
reaching ambifion, and consideral.ile hos- 
tility to each other's aims. For the last 
ten years it has been sullicient, whenever 
there was a disturbance of Russian opin- 
ion against (iermany, f;)r the two Em- 
perors to gi\e fresh [iroofs of their imitual 
good-will ill order to allay all excite- 
iiieiit. 

Alexander has gone now. beckoned 
away by the bony hand of that spectre, 
which, as j\I. Thiers so truly said, •• has 
left France and gone promenading in the 
Xortli." ISut Alexander's son, anti- 
Germun as he is in feeling, will not be 
likely to move his hand against (iermany 
while the venerable Emperor William 
lives. 

lierlin and ISismarck, Hisniarck and 
Uerliu ; — these words have been heard 
almost constantly in Europe since 1)S78. 
With the Heiiiii Congress came the 
delinite recogniliou of the fact that 
Eiiro|)e must go to IJerliii for leave and 
license to carry out its plans, and from 
the Congress which revised the Treat}' 
of San Stefano to the conference which 
car\ed out the Congo State, in this 
present vear, ticriiian |iiedoniinance and 
prestii;!' ha\e gro'vn and strengthened 
until they are becoiuing to certain high- 
spirited nations somewhat irksome and 
exasperating. The efforts of Great 
liritain !o ignore the leading rdU; of 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



817 



German}' are well known. Tims far 
tliev have been withont practical result ; 
not even so distiugiiislied a Liberal as 
Mr. Gladstone findini; it easy to tilt 
against the Bismarckian windmill with- 
out breaking a few lances anil getting 
severely bruised. 

The German position in Europe is in 
man}' respects most singular ; a nation 
which has carved out its unity at the 
point of (he sword finds itself at the 
height of power, possessing without 
question the finest military organization 
in the world, equallj' equipped for offense 
aud defense, yet earnestly striving to 
maintain jjcace, and by all reasonable 
means to keep its own armies <int of 
action. While surrounding nations, aud 
in fact most of the nations of the world, 
have been looking upon Germany for 
the last eighteen years in constant ex- 
pectation of her downfall, because of Ihe 
drain uiion her resources caused by the 
juaintenance of her army, Germany lias 
managed to develop her industry and 
commerce in a )emarkal)le degree, and 
to-day competes with France and Eng- 
land in those great foreign markets 
which the Briton aud the Gaul once 
proudly claimed as exclusively their 
own. A careful observer is forced to 
the conclusion that Germany maintains 
its army for the purpose of overawing 
Europe, aud getting its own way in 
everything by a display of the force 
which can compel assent if ])ersuasion 
fails. 

The French find to their cost that the 
industrial triumph of Germany is greater 
than her niilitarj' triumph. The Ger- 
mans, wh(j so long passed for being slow 
aud unambitious, have proved the 
quickest and keenest traders in Eurojje. 
AVith w-orkmen carefully and symmetri- 
cally educated ; with a country filled 
with the best of schools, general and 



technical ; with the sinews of meu 
traini'd by the best aud most iutelligent 
ph3sical exercises in and out of the 
arm}', — Germany has a body of workmen 
surpassed in no country, and equalled in 
few. These workmen can and do live 
on small wages ; they are scattered about 
in diminutive communities, where housing 
and f(jod are cheap and easily ol)tainable, 
and they pull together in the industrial 
war against the rest of the world, as 
they did in the military struggle for 
supremacy for which they had been 
preparing through fifty years of silent 
study. 

The indisputable triumi)hs of northern 
and middle Germany in industry and in 
the i)olitical world could not have been 
achieved without the masterly leadership 
of Prince Bismarck ; and the nation, 
appreciating this, associates his name 
witli every national move. His powers 
are of course limited ; but he is unwilling 
to confess this, and he tries to invent 
remedies for everything, even for the 
crying curse of Socialism, which is eat- 
ing out the heart of many great German 
communities, and preparing for a revolu- 
tion, which may be put off, but cannot 
be permanently averted. He Ih'iuIs the 
currents of trade towards Germany, or 
distributes them through it. Ills hand 
is seen in the boring of the St. (Jothard 
Tunnel, and the opening of new com- 
mercial currents towards Genoa and the 
Southern Seas, just as it is seen in the 
creation of syndicates in Hamburg for 
monoiiolizing the African trade in the 
very teeth of England and France, both 
of which countries feel that they imist 
have Africa at all hazards. 

The sudden arrival of Ciermany upon 
the field of colonial enterprise, two or 
three years ago, created an almost ludi- 
crous consternation in European circles. 
France, which had been told by the 



SIS 



ECnoPK IX ftTDHM AXD CALM. 



dyiiiij; Littru that it imist colonizL' it' it 
wislicil foi- military prestige aiiywhcrc, 
as slie could no longer liojie for it in 
Europe, has exi)auded her douiiiiinn in 
North Africa, and even knocked at the 
doors of the celestial empire. Knghuid. 
in her jealousy of France, has narrowly 
escaped coming to IjIows with her neigh- 








EMrER<_11t, OF RUSSIA. 

Tior and friend, and the English press 
has been full of allusions to the old days 
when France and England were con- 
stantly jostliug each other in the tield 
of colonial concjnest. Italy and Spain, 
fretting within their narrow bounds, and 
anxious for glory beyond seas, have 
cast covetous eyes upon the African 
laiuTs near them. Russia has pusiieil 
her standards dangerously near the gates 
of India, hurrying on across the desert.s 
in Central Asia to the gardens just 
beyond them. Austria has used up her 
surplus activity in Arctic expeditious, for 
lack of something better. Meantime 
Germany, which has been quietly and 



sili-nfly liuilding a vast fleet, having got 
it into shape for service, steps fortli 
upon the Colonial field, and announces 
licr decision t(.i take a portion of Africa. 
It would be difficult to imagine a more 
high-handed ]U'oceeding than that of the 
(lermau government in its acquisition of 
jVfrican territory ; yet other European 
countries cau do nothing to jirevent it, 
and are compelled to sit around the 
diiilomatie talile in Berlin to make sure 
that they cau keep tlieir own colonies. 

The nortliern powers, Russia and (ler- 
manv, present the spectacle of great 
nations, not spontaneously acting in 
oliedience to some inherited policy of 
ex|iansion or unification, but driven or 
moulded into certain courses by the will 
of strongmen. I suppose these nations 
may say that their collective will has 
been sunnned up iu certain individuals. 
In lioth countries there is protest, con- 
stant and strong, against the one-man 
power and the injustice and hardship 
whicli it ut'cessaril}' inflicts ou numerous 
classes. (Socialism in Germany is l)nt a 
mask for the advanced, untaught, and 
dangerous republicanism which Euroi^e 
must have, liefore it cau have an en- 
lightened and self-controlling democracy. 
Nihilism in Russia, with its men grovel- 
ling in the earth to lay mines of pow- 
der, or sliukini;' through corridors with 
daggers in tlieir hands, or holding meet- 
ings iu remote and gloomy forests, is 
another and a ruder phase of the repub- 
lican movement. The most terrible form 
of nihilism, manifested iu the doctrine of 
the destructionists, who wish to do away 
with society without substituting auy- 
tliing in its place, who seem to have de- 
voted their existence to the work of mere 
tearing down, is the result of theterrilile 
repression in Russia. Emperor William 
of Germany escaped the assassin's hand, 
althounh he was struck at with the same 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



819 



uurelenting persistence and malevolence 
that finally laid the Emperor Alexander 
of Russia in his grave. Bismareli, all 
powerful as he seems, realizes that he 
treads on a volcano, and cannot afflrm 
that an eruption may not overwhelm 
him just as he seems about to " crown 
the edifice " at the end of his illustrious 
career. 

Should Bismarck live to be a very old 
man many strange things, now only 
wliispercd about in Europe, might 
become actualities. Those persons who 
talk with bated breath of the absorption 
of Holland and Switzerland into the 
German Empire as an impossibility 
miglit find that it was quite within the 
scope of Bismarck's genius. Having 
demonstrated his power to draw the 
centre of control to Berlin, and to main- 
tain it there, whv might he not lioldly 
change the map of Europe a little more ? 
Heaveu knows it has been changed fre- 
quently enough in the last half genera- 
tion ! Besides, he is a master of the 
policy of •' give and take." As in the 
Congo Conference he brought the French, 
his most implacable enemies, to cooperate 
with him simply because they knew they 
would profit materially hy so doing ; so 
if he chose to attack the autonomy of 
the, brave little countries which have a 
Germanic tinge, he might find plenty of 
bribes with which to stop the mouths of 
the objectors. 

The industrial progress of Germany is 
so j)Owerful that it may break down all 
barriers which would keep it from a 
wide outlet upon the Northern sea, and 
which might claim com[)lete control of 
the great highv.'ays that, burrowing 
under the Alps, lead out to the seas 
which wash the shores of the Italian 
peninsula. 

Europe has become so accustomed to 
i-egard Prince Bismarck as magnificently 



permanent that it would be shocked to 
its centre if he were to be carried off in 
one of his many illnesses. In recent 
j-ears he has shown symptoms of great 
and general fatigue, manifest principally 
in a petulance quite astonishing in one 
of his robust intellect, against any who 
dare to cross even his least important 
(jlans. In his long fight witli the Ultra- 
montanes he was no more imperious than 
he is on the simple matter of some 
measure of home taxation. He is a 
driver wiio keeps his horses well in hand, 
ready to flourish the whij) whenever there 
is any manifestation of indei)endence on 
the part of the steeds. A Frenchman 
has called him " tlie Mikado of Ger- 
man\-." This rather indefinite definition 
admirably hits the general French opinion 
of the great man. It is certain that 
Bismarck has maintained 1-iis dignity 
better than Thiers, better lliau fJiiizot, 
better than Beaconsfield, in carrying 
through the gigantic scliemes in which 
he has been engaged. He has, liowever, 
had a more docile people to handle than 
the French or the English, who rebel 
more readily against the display of 
authority than tlie Germans, vvitli tlieir 
memories of the great Frederick, can for 
a long time hope to do. 

At Friederichsruhe or at Varzin, in 
his cabinet or in the parliament in Berlin, 
he is the unyielding master, who brings 
the dart of Jove into play the moment 
that he finds persuasion not strong 
enougii. An American is reluctantly 
forced to the conclusion that Europe is, 
on the whole, fond of being bullied, and 
will fall at tlie feet of him who can Imlly 
with the roundest voice and the biggest 
fist. In very recent days Prince Bis- 
marck has, by his personal influence on 
general European affairs, forced the 
German nation more prominently into 
view than ever before. Not satisfied 



820 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



with cjirvinii; a Oeriiuui eolonial empire 
in Africa, out of tlie territories -wliicli he 
took bodily from under the grip of France 
and Enghmd, lie now asouraes to lie the 
arbiter of Egyptian affairs, and will not 
give England peaee until she consents to 
bring Egypt, as everything else has been 
brought, iin to the green cloth at Berlin. 
It is from the Xortii alone that per- 



mission for the definite reopening of the 
"Eastern Question" can be obtained; 
and the country which, twenty years 
ago, would scarcely have been considered 
in the arrangement of matters in the 
East, is now the one which must be first 
consulted l»y those who were wont to 
look upon her as a second or third class 
power. 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



821 



CHAPTER NINETY-THREE. 



The Storm of Enmiie clivcrtod into Africa. — IIow fircat Britain was drawn into Egyptian Affairs. — 
Tlic Revolt of Arabi. — Rise of FA Malidi. — Gordon to the Rescue. — The Lons Siege of Kliar- 
toiini. — Fall of the Soudanese Stronghold and Reported Death of Gordon. — The Recall ol 
Wolselcy. 



THE storm of Europe is not all eon- 
fiiR'd within its narrow boinidaries, 
but reaches over the world, and dis- 
charges its lightnings, sweeps with its 
ten'ible winds, and devastates with its 
floods and fires. Even now two Euro- 
pean powers, that are also Asiatic powers, 
are confronting each otiier in Afgiianis- 
tan ; and who dare say that war in 
Europe ni.ay not result from tliis dispute 
of Russia and Great Britain? — the latter 
barring now, as so often before, the way 
of the Muscovite empire to the sea, 
shutting up the path to the Persian Gulf, 
as it has forbidden the vStraits of the 
Bosphorus and tlio prize of Constanti- 
nople. In Africa, as we shall see later, 
the powers of Europe meet peacefully 
now, ^thanks to Stanley and King Leo- 
pold, and, above all, to Bismarck, — upon 
the Congo ; but occasion of strife there 
is yet remote. Elsewhere in Africa also 
the powers meet and conflict, at the 
mouth of the Nile and at ancient Cairo, 
where tlie all-potent interests of trade 
and money have compelled the govern- 
ments of France, Eugland, Germany, 
and Italy, to concern themselves in the 
government of Egypt, and consequently 
in the religion of Islam. The business 
interests of all are identical, but no other 
power has as much at stake in Egypt as 
Great Britain, for not only is it of 
moment to her that the government 
should be stable, solvent, and willing to 
pay the interest on its immense deljts, 



but through Egyptian territorj- passes 
the Suez Canal, the gateway to the great 
Indian empire, built by the French De 
Lesseps, but now chiefly owned Ijy Great 
Britain. It is neutral in case of war for 
tlie world's commerce, but the fortunes 
of war do not always respect the most 
guarded of agreements. The necessity 
of keeping at the head of affairs in 
Egypt a government that could lie man- 
aged so as to secure the moneyed inter- 
ests of Europe was what provoked the 
one war which Mr. Gladstone's late gov- 
ernment originated, for it inherited the 
other wars it has taken part in from 
Lord Beaconsfle Id's "Jingo" policy. So 
when, in September, 1881, Arabi Bey, a 
colonel in the Egyptian army, and otiiers 
of his rank, headed an insurrection to 
demand a new ministry; and when, dis- 
satisfied with tlie new ministry when it 
was given, and still more dissatisfied 
when foreign intervention came, the 
colonels drew the army into active rebel- 
lion ; there was nothing for Great Britain 
to do but put down the patriots, as they 
called themselves. Thus started the 
trouble of the English in Egypt. Arabi 
was an Egyptian, and, the first of Egyp- 
tian blood who had held so high a rank 
among the Turks, made much out of his 
profession of patriot. He was an ignorant 
man, — he could not read Arabic even ; 
but he knew his couutiy had been abused 
long enough by its Turkish rulers, who 
had plundered it by the Sultan's imposts 



822 



EUROrE IN' STORM AND CALM. 



and for their own oxtravagancos, and 
had liroiiglit it into delit on every hand, 
grinding tlio hiel^less fehahoen to the 
earth nndcr liopclcss opiiression. Tlie 
man was incompetent to his rdle of 
savior, and Jiis success would have been 
ruinous to liis eountr\-, liut there was 
never any cliance of his succeeding. At 
first there was talk of the Sultan, the 
Khedive's suzerain, taking possession of 
the land in force ; but England would 
not have allowed that : it would Jiave 
made matters worse instead of ln'tter. 
There was also talk of joint oeeuiiation 
by Englanil and Fi'ance, but linally the 
policing of Egypt, the iiroteeting of its 
helpless nominal ruler, tlu' Khedive, and 
the putting down of the rebellion of the 
colonels, was committed to England 
aloni' ; and how she accom[ilished those 
tasks we ne<'d not recall in clotail. 

As before said, Aralii was ignorant; 
jtlie present Khedive recently related an 
annising instance of the deptli of his 
ignorance. " I shall never forget," he 
said, " one incident that occurred while 
he was secretary of war. It was at the 
time of the excitement aliout tlie Italians 
taking Asab on the Red Sea. It was at 
a meeting of the council where I pre- 
sided. Arabi said, ' Italy must not be 
allowed to do this. We will prevent it 
by destroying the Suez Canal so that 
they cannot get to the Red Sea.' I said, 
' AVhat do you mean? You will destroy 
the Suez Canal ? Why, the Suez Canal is 
an international highway, and you would 
not be permitted to d(_i it. Besides, if 
3'ou did, you would not prevent the 
Italians sending tiieir ships around by 
the Cape of Good Hope and entering the 
Red Sea from the south.' — ' What,' said 
Arabi, ' is there another way of getting 
to the Red Sea than by way of the canal ?' 
The fact was that he had not the slightest 
idea of the shape or ruison d'etre of the 



Red Sea, tiiough it is a body so inti- 
mately connected with Egypt that it may 
almost be said to be Egyptian." Not 
only was he ignorant, but we fear he 
must be confessed a coward ; his sole 
virtue was his l)lind feeling that every- 
thing was wrong, the fellaheen abused, 
and the foreign officers, who really 
owned the countrj', much too arrogant ; 
l)ut this, and the small education he had 
ill military affairs, did not suffice for the 
occasion. Alexandria was bombarded 
July 11, 1882 ; Sir Garnet Wolseley, who 
had won a reputation in the Ashautee 
war, arrived to take command of the 
British troops in the Khedive's service, 
August 1/), and Arabi and his army of 
sixty thousand Egj'ptiaus were utterly 
routed at Tel-el-Kebir on September 13, 
only three days over a year since the 
day when he, at the head, of four thou- 
sand men, had confronted the Khedive 
with a demaiKl for the resignation of the 
ministry and the formation of a new 
one, the assemljly of the Notables, and 
a constitution. Wolseley was made a 
bai'on for Tel-el-Kebir, and Aralii went 
to prison, was afterward tried for treason, 
and exiled to Ceylon, wliere he now 
lives, at the cost of the Egyptian govern- 
ment, in a comfortable house at Colomlio. 
He is trying to learn English, and is 
supposed to be ambitious of literary 
fame in a history of his times, while 
without question he is getting up a col- 
lection of autographs of his visitors, who 
all sign their names in his big liook. 

While the English were linishing this 
job, another mucli more troublesome one 
was preparing for tliem in Upper Egypt. 
In Julv, 1881, fix'e montlis after the 
military riot in which Aralii first came 
into notoriety, and when discontent was 
growing every d.ay, came the news of 
the appearance of a prophet in the Sou- 
dan, who asserted that he was the Mahdi, 



EVBOrE IN STORM AND CALM. 



823 



the great savior and reoiganizor of 
Islam. This was au event ominous of 
dire disaster or not, according as he 
should prove able to impose liimself upon 
the peo|ile, for tiiere liave been many 
false prophets presenting thatchiim, who 
have had sometimes great success for a 
time, but sometimes also none at all. 
The idea of the Mahdi is the same with 
the idea of the Messiah ; it is the Persian 
version in fact of the Judaic original. 
When everything is getting as bad as 
possible in Islam, and Satan, or the 
Beast of the Apocalypse, or Antichrist, 
or the false prophet, whom the doctrine 
of Islam calls Deddjfll (the Impostor) — 
appears, — then the true propliet is to 
come. This personage must be of the 
familj' of Mahomet ; at the head of the 
true believers lie will master, one by one, 
the Moslem kingdoms, and his title will 
be El Mahdi, or He v-ho in led. At the 
coming of ]>eddjAl, too, Jesus is to 
descend from heaven, but not to play 
the foremost part, as in Christian proph- 
ecy, but as assistant to the Mahdi, 
who will be his Imam, after whom he 
will repeat his prayers. Many Malidis 
have had their day, and their failure has 
proved them false prophets ; this one, now 
he has failed, will be fatalistically regarded 
as another, and the Moslems will proceed 
to look for the true Mahdi, who should 
come after tlie false. lie had a good 
many of the marks ; lie bore the same 
name as the Prophet, Mohammed Ahmed ; 
his father bore the same name as the 
Prophet's father, Abdallah ; his mother, 
like the Prophet's mother, was Ainina ; 
he was forty years old when he appeared, 
and that is the sacred age, — Mahomet's 
own age at his revelation ; and, more- 
over, he had been carefully brought up 
as a candidate for the position. Yet 
against these advantages it mu>.t be 
said that the ulemas declared him an 



impostor, and the cherif of Mecca, the 
head of the sacred tribe of the Koreish, 
pronounced him the false prophet. 
However that may be, Mohammed 
Ahmed has been constantly growing in 
[lower to this day, when he occupies 
nearly all the Soudan, and he has cost 
the English much money, a great many 
soldiers, and several generals, chief 




EI, MAHBI. 

among them the strange hero known as 
"Chinese Gordon." 

The first attemi)t to bring the Mahdi 
to terms was disastrous to the small de- 
tachment charged with the duty ; an- 
other fared no better, and in June, 1882, 
he, with his Soudanese, swept out of ex- 
istence the Egyptian army of the Soudan, 
uumbeiiiig six thousand men, under Yus- 
suf Pasha, slaying all but a few soldiers. 
From that victory he began ofTeiisive 
war, overran the wide country without 
check, and brought to his side nearly 
every tribe of the region. He was de- 



824 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



feated at Bara, and again in liis fuToe 
assaults on El Obeid, capital of Kordo- 
fan, where he was thrice repulsed and 
lost, it is said, ten thousand men. But 
afterward, early in 1883, he tooi< Bara, 
and then El Obeid surrendered, and 
nearly all its garrison took service with 
him, and he made the town his dwelling- 
place. It was not until after this tri- 
umphant career, and the establishment 
of a mighty prestige with the lawless 
tribesof tlie region, that the Egyptian gov- 
ernment began to consider th.e necessity 
of snppressing his formidable rebellion. 
It nnist not lie forgotten that tliis I'egion 
of the Soudan, populated by intelligent, 
vigorous and free races, had been for 
many years subjected to the grossest 
tyrannj' and exaction, undei' tlie reign of 
the Kliedive Ismail and his predecessor. 
Before tliis it was tliat C'liarles (ieorge 
Gordon liad had his wonderful career as 
Governor-fJeneral of the .Soudan, in 
wliich he lind greatly lightened tlic bur- 
den of the cruel rule of Egypt, and the 
atrocities of the slave-trade. His was 
the lirst administration in which hu- 
manity and respect for the riglit^ of tlie 
Soudanese had been shown, and its ex- 
perience liad intensified the discontent 
of the people, and tliey were rife for 
revolt when tlu' ^Mididi gave them tlie 
opportunity ami impulse. It was a scat- 
ered iiopular mo\-emeiit that the Egvii- 
tian government now undertook to put 
down. The Kliedive, after the fall of 
El Obeid. organized such an army as he 
could to oppose the dangerous risiim'. 
and sent it thitlier under the command 
of ail Englishman, Hicks Pasha. Abd- 
el Ivader, an .Vrali, with a small force, 
had already entered .Sennaar and gained 
some success, when Hicks arrived at 
Khartoum, in March. At lirst. it seemed 
that Hicks would save the fortunes of 
the Khedive's i-iile. He defeated a large 



force in .Sennaar, April 211, and the 
j\lahdi"s vizier was among tlie slain, 
wliile the Mahdi himself was shortly 
after lieaten, and fled to Kordofan. 
Tliereafter for inontlis Hicks had a 
career of unintorru|>ted success, and 
things looked hopeful when, in early 
autumn, he set out at tlie head of ten 
thousand men to quell the Mahdi by one 
blow. He was betrayed into an am- 
bush, and his force utterly destroye(l ; 
no European at all survived, and the 
Egyjitiau campaign against the Mahdi 
was at an end — the resources of the 
Khedive were exhausted. 

The English had waited too long. 
Had they supported the Khedive from 
the start, as they hail morallv bound 
themselves to do by their suppression of 
Arabi's rebellion, the Mahdi's career 
miglit have lieeu cut sliort. I'.ut tlie 
government had declined to hel|) Egyi)t 
in subjugating the Soudan. Lord Gran- 
ville had stated in Parliament in the 
spring of 1883 that '■ Her IMajesty's 
government were in no wav responsible 
for the operations which had lieeii under- 
taken on the authority of the Egy[itian 
government, or for the appointment and 
action of General Hicks." But when 
Hicks and his army had been massacred, 
a certain sense of responsibility liegau 
to creeii over the managers of British 
foreign affairs. Something must be 
done. At once the attein[it was made 
to get Egypt to .abandon the Soudan, 
for conquer it she could not, nor would 
England helj) her. lint that was con- 
i-eded — for, really, what choice had Tew- 
fik, a powerless '"protected"' [irinee, 
the mere administrator of British will? 
Then arose the question of the garri- 
sons, thirty thousand soldiers, mostly 
Egyptians, in Khartoum, and P.erber, 
Dongola, Kassala, and other [ilaces, 
who would assurediv be butchered by 



EUROl-E IX STORM AXD CALM. 



82o 



the fanatic foUowei's of tlu> JMiiliili if 
tlioy were left there. It was at this 
juncture that tlie British thought of 
Charles George Gordon. This wonder- 
ful soldier of fortune, whom some call 
the greatest Englishman of his age, did 
not desire tlie v,'ori\, for he knew what it 
was, none so well ; and, moreover, he 
liad already half-engaged with the King 
of the Belgians to go to the upper Congo 
and supplement Stanley's work, hy ex- 
tirpating the slave-trade of Central Af- 
rica. For that he had quitted liis re- 
treat in the Holy Land, where he had 
been meditating and producing that 
book of mystical religions thought since 
published ; yet, when he asked the per- 
mission of the Bi'itish government to 
take tiiat service, and yet retain his 
commission as major-general, there was 
some dirticnlty made about it. But as- 
sent was gained when, on the eve of de- 
parture for that seivice, Gordon was 
sought for the Soudan. The govern- 
ment was not the first to ask for Gor- 
don ; that was left for the newspapers. 
and they were not backward in doing 
tlieir duty. Said the '• Pall Mall Ga- 
zette : " '"If we have not an Eg\ ptian 
army to employ, and if we must not send 
an English force, what are we to do? 
There is only one thing that we can do. 
We cannot send a regiment to Khar- 
toum, but we can send a man who, on 
more than one occasion, lias proved liini- 
self more valuable in similar circum- 
stances than an entire army. Why not 
send Chinese Gordon to Khartoum, to 
assume absolute control over the terri- 
tory, to treat with the Mahdi, to relieve 
the garrisons, and do wliat can be done, 
to save what can be saved, from the 
wreck in the Soudan? His engagement 
on the Congo could surely be postponed. 
No man can deny the urgent need in the 
midst of that hideous welter of confusion 



for tlie [iresence of sucii a man, witii a 
born genius for command, an unex- 
amijled capacity in organizing ' Ever Vic- 
torious ' armies, and a perfect knowledge 
of the Soudan and its people. Wiiy not 
send him out witli carte hlanchi'? " 

The British governnient knew all tiiis 
well; they knew Gordon's genius and 
gifts and the great things he had done in 




(JEN. C. G. liOIvDON. 

China, and what former service as Gov- 
ernor-General of the Soudan, the most 
(topular one that ever ruled, and tlie only 
oiu^ that had ever done any good there 
except Sir Samuel Baker. But Gordon 
was a man of greater resources and more 
striking character than the excellent 
Baker. He had shown one of his eccen- 
tricities by refusing a salary of £10,000 
a year, when the Khedive appointed him 
governor of the trilies in upper Egypt in 
1877, and would take but £2,000, saying 
that the money was wrung from the pov- 
erty of a wretched people whom he pitied. 
He was made a pasha, and, in February, 



826 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



1877, liP T\as made Governor-Geiu'ral of 
the Soudan. In the course of that year 
he travelled through the whole of this 
great i>roeonsulate, settling ditliculties, 
liacit'ying hcjstile tribes, removing dllicers 
who oi)jiressed the people, gaining the 
love of tlie [leople liv his hrilliant Insight 
and unswerving justice, and winning an 
almost suiierstitious atlniiration by the 
rapidity of his movements and the 
celerity of his despatch <.)f affairs. Tlie 
great work of his administration was not 
the })utting down of rebellion in Darfur, 
or the ending of the war with Abyssinia, 
but the crippling of tlie power of the 
slave-dealers at the very source of their 
sup|)lies. He captured hundreds of slave 
caravans, and put au end to a dominion 
which h:id for years l)een stronger in 
actual influences than the jiowcr of the 
Khedive. In doing this Gordon hast- 
ened the way of his own death (if, in- 
deed, he be dead), for wdien his able 
lieutenant, tlie Italian Rounilus Gessi, 
executed the penalty of death ui)on Sulei- 
man, the rol)ber chief, son of Zebelir, the 
icing of the slave-traders, _the act. al- 
though Zebehr acknowledged its rightful- 
ness, was not f<jrgotteu or forgiven by 
tliat imi)ortaut personage, 'who was able 
to direct from his detainment, under sur- 
veillance at Cairo, the operations of trai- 
tors who openi'd the gates of Khartoum 
to the Malidi. But this is to anticipate. 
Having these tlnngs in mind the Brit- 
ish government did ai)point Gordon, and, 
ever ready to obey the summons to a 
held of inmiediate and pressing action, 
he responded promptly, informing King 
Leopold that he should hope to be able 
to carry out his engagement with him con- 
cerning the Congo after he had accom- 
lili^heil his work on tlie Soudan. He 
went with the clear understanding that 
the end to be accomplished was the 
evacuatiou of the Soudan liy the Egyp- 



tian government. The British govern- 
ment had the choice of simply aiding 
this policy, which it had advised the Khe- 
dive to adopt, or of supporting the Klie- 
dive liy British troops, numerous enough 
to pursue an active and destructive cam- 
[laign against the formidalile false [iro- 
phet. Gordon made a memorandum of 
his own }ilans, which, as read now, indi- 
cate the impossiliility of working in Lon- 
donandat Khartoum on two very different 
lines. The evacuation of the Soudan, 
the mere rescue of the Egyptian garri- 
sons, could have lieeu accomplished had 
there been no other considerations. But 
Gordon also planned to make a disposi- 
tion for the future of the country. Not- 
withstanding that he had said at the start 
" I understand that Her Majesty's gov- 
ernment have come to the irrevocal)le 
decision not to incur the very onerous 
duty of securing to the peoples of the 
Soudan a just future government," in 
the same paragraph he went on to 
say that, •' .as a eonsequence. Her 
Majesty's government have determined 
to restore to tiiese peojiles their iude- 
[lendencc ; " and, further on, he says : 
•' My idea is that the restoration of the 
eountry should be made to the different 
petty sultans who existed at the time of 
Mehemet All's conquest, and whose 
families still exist ; that the Mahdi should 
be left altogether out of tlie calculation 
as regards the handing over the conntry ; 
and that it should be optional with the 
sultans to accept his supremacy or not. 
As these sultans would iirobnlily not be 
likely to gain by accepting tlie Mahdi as 
their sovereign, it is probable that they 
will hold to their independent positions. 
Thus, we should have two factions to 
deal with, namely, the petty sultans as- 
serting their several independence, and 
the M:ihdi ))arty aiming at supremacy 
over them." The arsenals, therefore. 



EUROPE IX STORM AXD CALM. 



827 



should be banded over to tlio sultans, and 
not the Mahdi ; but in Khartoum, Don- 
gola, and Kassala, towns whieh have 
sprung up since the first Khedive's con- 
quest, there were no old ruling families, 
and there Gordon thought it should be 
left to I he people to decide .is to the arse- 
nals, etc. All this involved precisely 
what Gordon had plainly said he knew 
the British government would not do, and 
what, in fact, it did not do. Neverthe- 
less, it was with these ideas that he left 
for the .Soudan. " It would be an iniq- 
uity to reconquer these people and then 
hand them back to tlie Egyptians without 
guarantee of future good government." 
And, therefore, he did not desire that the 
British should take the [lartof tlie Egyp- 
tian government, but he did outline a pro- 
gramme of sustaining the local sultans as 
against the Konlofan [iroiilict winch in- 
voh'ed a great deal larger force and more 
figliting than the government at Loudon 
ever contemplated. Thus, although the 
government never promised to fulfil 
Gordon's plans, it did express the utmost 
confidence in his wisdom, and tell him to 
go ahead, with " full discretionary power 
to retain tlie troops for such reasonable 
period as you may think necessary in 
order th.at the iibandonmeut of the coun- 
try may be accomplished with the least 
possible risk to life and property." And 
Gordon sailed with this unrecognized but 
most serious difference between iiiuiself 
and the government. 

The late Governor-General of the Sou- 
dan reached Khartoum February 18, 1884. 
His first acts were to liberate prisoners 
and prepare for the removal of the gar- 
rison to Berber. In nine days more he 
had surveyed the field and come to the 
conclusion that it was necessary, in order 
to accomplish his plans, to crush the 
Mahdi, and he began telegraphing to 
Sir Evelyn Baring that it could then be 



done without great cost in men or nionej'. 
He required also for his lieutenant whom 
but his old enemy Zebehr, the slave- 
trader ! Shoi'tly after he astonished the 
world by proclaiming in Khartoum non- 
interference with the slave-trade. The 
inconsistency of this action with Gor- 
don's professions and previous record 
seemed impossible to explain ; Init the 
British government expressed their con- 
fidence in his judgment in the emergency. 
.Seven-eighths of the population of the 
Soudan were slaves at tliat time, and 
Gordon had to reassm-e the Soudanese 
against the impression disseminated by 
the JMahdi that Gordon's purpose was 
to extinguish their iiro|ierty in slaves. 
Whether he intended or not, at the start, 
to sul)jugate the !Mahdi, he found when 
he got on the spot that if he did not, 
nothing could save Egypt from his ad- 
vance after the Soudan was con(iuered, 
as it soon would be, and he thouglit the 
British government might lietter do the 
job then, when it would be comparatively 
easy, than suffer the influence of the 
JNIahdi to spread until he possessed an 
irresistible force. But the British gov- 
ernment sent no more ti'oops and paid 
no heed to Gordon's demand I'or Zebehr. 
Gordon grew desperate, if we may judge 
by his despatches at the time, and espec- 
ially by his diaries since pul)lished. 
Things had been going constantly against 
him. Colonel Valentine Baker, in the ser- 
viceof the Sultanas Baker Pasha, hadsuf- 
fered a severe defeat at Tokar, February 
4 ; Tewfik Bey had, a week later, tried to 
cut his way with his garrison out of 
Sinkat. but all the six hundred men were 
slain bv the forces of Osman Digua, who 
was now recognized as the Mahdi's viz- 
ier. Tokar had surrendered. A mas- 
sacre of Egyptians, endeavoring to escape 
from the country, had occured at Shend^'. 
There had been a temporary gleam of 



828 



EUEOI'E L\ SrORM AX/) CALM. 



success ill General (Jraham's defeat of 
a force near Trinkitat : l)ut tliat was 
more than offset by tlie massacre of a 
pai't of the Egyptian array under com- 
mand of Colonel Stewart, for it revealed 
the existence of treachery ; two pashas 
havin<i' been detected in their negotia- 
tions and shot. ^Meantime. Gordon's 
communications with the world were 
often cut ott", and repeatedly he tele- 
graphed for reinforcements, declaring 
his eonxiction that he should be caught 
in Khartoum. April 8 he got through 
the following message to Sir Evelyn 
Baring : — 

" I have telegraphed to Sir Samuel 
Baker to make an appeal to British and 
American millionaires to give me f.'iOO,- 

000 to engage Turkish troops from the 
Sultan and send them here. This will 
settle the Soudan and Maluli forexer ; 
for my part I think you will agi'ce with 
me. I do not see the fun of being 
caught here to walk about the streets for 
years as a dervish witii sandalled feet ; 
not that (t). V.) I will ever be taken 
alive. It would lie the climax of mean- 
ness, after I iiad bori'owed money from 
the people here, had called on tiiem to 
sell their grain at a low price, etc., to go 
and abandon them without using every 
effort to relieve them. Whether these 
efforts are dii)lomatically correct or not, 

1 feel sure, whatever yon may feel 
diplomatically, I have your support — 
and every man professing himself a 
gentleman — in private. Nothing could 
be moi'e meagre than your telegram, 
' Osman Digna's followers have been 
dispersed.' Surely something more than 
this was required by me." 

Eight days later he wrote as follows: 
" As far as I can understand the situa- 
tion is this : Y(iu state your intention of 
not sending any relief up here or to 
Berber, and j'ou refuse me Zebehr. I 



considi^r myself free to act according to 
circumstances. I shall hold on here as 
long as I can, and if I can suppress the 
rebellion I siiall do so. If I cannot, I 
shall retire to the Equtitor, and leave you 
the indelible disgrace of abandoning the 
garrisons of Sennaar, Kassala, Berber, 
and Dongola, with the certainty that you 
will eventually bo forced to smash up 
the Mahdi imder greater difficulties, if 
you retain peace in Egyi)t." 

For months thereafter nothing was 
heard of Gordon any more than if he 
had been in the moon. A diary of the 
siege of Khartoum, written by a news- 
liaper correspondent named Power, 
reached Loudon September 29, contain- 
ing the first information from the belea- 
guered place for five months. What 
lighting Gordon did in the interim was 
from his steamers on the Nile. The long 
siege was sustained, not 1)V the bravery 
of tlio garrison, for, as Mr. Power wi'ote, 
the Egyptian soldiers were such i)ol- 
troons that " one Ar.ab can put two hnu- 
ilred of our men to flight," nor by the 
abundance of provisions, for they grew 
very scarce, liut liy the invincible spirit 
of Gordon. This, however, did not 
make him more popular with the (icople 
of Khartoum, who, doul>tless, did not 
understand the conduct of such a man. 
It was a month later before word was 
had directly from Gordon, giving details 
of the siege. At that time he had sent 
important sorties, and even expeditious, 
from Khartoum, in one of which Berber, 
captured in May by the Malidi, had been 
retaken by Colonel Stewart. But, on 
the way back, Stewart and Power and 
another European, making their way 
down the river in a small steamer, were 
wrecked, and the whole party murdered 
by a local sheikh, iu whose |)rofessions 
of friendshiii they liad trusted. It 
became more and more evident that the 



EUROPE IN STORM AMD CALM. 



82<) 



Soudanese were impatient at the occupa- 
tion of their coiintvy, and more inclined 
to accept tiie lead of theMahdi. It was 
recognized in England tliat tliis was tlie 
character of the movement that con- 
tinued to 1)6 called a " rebellion." Mr. 
Gladstone, in Parliament, replying to 
" Jingo " attacks, spoke of the Mahdi as 
one leading a people to freedom ; and 
it was true. All the while, therefore, 
the Mahdi's strength continued to in- 
crease, and he was constantly gaining 
small victories, and closing in on Khar- 
toum. The diaries of Gordon have 
enabled us to follow the whole course of 
this time, when he felt that lie was 
abandoned by the British government, 
and when there was a loud cry went \\\> 
in England almost to cursing the gov- 
ernment ; but yet the authorities de- 
clared Gordon in no danger. Lord 
Granville asserted that in the House of 
Lords, and said that if he felt himself 
abandoned, it was because the govern- 
ment despatches had not reached him. 
In May a meeting of the Patriotic Asso- 
ciation was held in St. James Hall, 
London. The Earl of Cadogan jiresided. 
Mr. Chaplin, M.P., moved, and the Earl 
of Dunraven seconded a resolution 
"that this meeting condemns the aban- 
donment of General Gordon by Her 
Majesty's ministers as dishonorable to 
them and discreditable to the country." 
It was then declared that he had asked 
for money, and it had not been sent ; 
had asked for Zebehr, and had . been 
refused ; had prayed for troops, and 
been told there were none. It was often 
said that Gordon could get out if he 
would, and there is no doubt that he 
might have done so alone, but that he 
called, in his uumincing manner, " sneak- 
ing out," and he could not sneak. 

At the beginning of August, it is 
known from the diaries, Gordon's troops 



had lired aliout half a milli(jn cartridges ; 
two of his little steamers had received 
on their hulls nine hundred and eight 
hunilred hits, respectively ; yet only 
thirty men had been killed or wounded. 
But the strain upon the besieged was 
terrible. Great economy of food was 
necessary ; every one was rationed, and 
food had become thirty times dearer 
than its usual [irice. He had borrowed 
money to feed the starving, and he had 
issued paper to the extent of over 
£2(;,()00, while he owed the merchants 
twice as much more. He struck medals 
for the defence of Khartoum ; for of- 
ficers, in silver, for privates, in silver- 
gilt and i)ewter. These bore the device 
of the crescent and the star, with a 
quotation from the Koran, a date and 
the inscription " Siege of Khartoum." 
" School children and women," he writes 
in his diary, " also received medals, 
so that I am very popular with the 
black ladies of Khartoum." The stores 
of ammunition grew low, and had to be 
husbanded very carefully. Gordon was 
everything ; without him there was no 
strength whatever. The military, the 
uh^mas, sojourners, and citizens of 
Khartoum, on August 19, telegraphed 
to the Khedive as follows : " Weakened 
and reduced to extremities, God in his 
mercy sent Gordon Pasha to us in tlie 
amidst of our calamities, or we should 
all have perished of huuger and lieen 
destroyed. But sustained by his intelli- 
gence and great military skill, wc have 
been preserved until now." That shows 
what Gordon was to his Jlohammedan 
friends ; yet at this time he was writ- 
ing, " We appeared even as liars to the 
people of Khartoum," because nothing 
that he asked for was granted him. 
Finally, August 2G, he sent to the 
Khedive, to Sir Evelyn Baring, and to 
Xubar Pasha, this significant despatch : 



^oU 



KVROrE IX STORM AXD CALM 



" I am awnitiiig the nrrival of Brit- 
ish troops, ill order to evacuate 
the Kgyiiliaii garrisons. Seud me 
Zeliehr I'uslia, and pay 
him a yearly salary of 
£8,000. I shall surren- 
der the .Soudan to the 
Sultan as soon as (wo 
humlred thousand Tin 
isli troops have arri\<'(l. 
If the rebels kill the 
Egj'ptians, you -will lie 
answeralile for their 
blood Iieciuue t i((0,(H(0 
fol soldli is' p i\ ,iu\ d ul\ 
cxp( uses being £I,")0()." 







Meanwhile it hail Ijecn at last deter- 
mined in England to attempt the relief 
of Gordon. On the 5th of August, a 
eredit of £300,000 w.as voted to prepare 
for such an expedition, and Lord Wolse- 
ley, of Egypt, was directly after an- 
nounced to command it. It was resolved 
to build a railway up the Nile valley 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



S31 



Four liumlred l)oats of light (Iranglit were 
ordered, and ship-yards at Liverpool, 
London, Hull, Hartlepool, and Dundee 
were busy with the noise of labor tlay 
and niglit ; presently four hundied more 
were ordered. On the .'50tli of August 
the Nile was reported rising, ami it was 
time tilings were on the move. Lord 
Northbroolc was to accompany Wolseley 
so far as Cairo. There wore prepara- 
tions swiftly made in London for the 
departure of the troops, and there was 
great excitement as some favorite regi- 
ment embarked upon the Thames. Some 
troops were ordered from India, and the 
whole force to go south of Assouan, that 
is, above the cataracts, was determined 
to comprise eight thousand British 
troops, two thousand five hundred Kgj'p- 
tians, and a flotilla of nine hundred and 
fifty boats ; the cost of the campaign was 
reckoned at £8,000,000. There were 
already ton thousand Britisli troops in 
Kgj'pt, and the reinforcements were to 
number five thousand. There grew a 
great popular interest in the war move- 
ment, for Jingoism is a permanent quality 
in England ; the colonies felt the demand, 
and troops went from Australia aud 
from Canada. The Marquis of Lans- 
downe, Governor-General of the Domin- 
ion, enlisted a contingent of six hundred 
boatmen of the St. Lawrence and Ot- 
tawa, who had long navigated the rajiids 
of those mighty rivers of the North, 
to conduct the tr(_)op-boats up the 
rapids of the Nile, under command of 
Major Dennison of the Governor-Gen- 
eral's body-guard. The popular songs 
in London streets were of Egj'pt and 
Gordon ; and this interesting composi- 
tion l)ade the Caughnawagas God-speed 
on their service : — 



' Oh, the East is but the West, with the sun a 
little hotter, 



And tlie pine becomes a palm l)y the dark 

Egyptian water ; 
And the Nile's like many a stream we kn(}W 

that fills the brimmini; eup, 
We'll think it is the Ottawa, as we track the 

batteaux up. 
Pull, pull, pull ! as we track the batteaux np ! 
It's easy shouting homewaril wheit we're at the 

top." 

This is quite in the measure and spirit 
of the Canadian cJutides, as they call 




LORD WOLSELEY. 

them, and very likely was sung on the 
Nile among the boatmen's own simple 
lays, — a picturesque incident of a waste- 
ful and ineffectual war. 

Lords Northlirook and Wolseley 
reached Alexandria September 9, the 
same night reached Cairo, and there 
Wolseley waited until the troops and 
transports had passed the second cata- 
ract, the former by land, the latter 
pushed by the poles of hundreds of 
half-fed laborers. Above Dongola the 
advance was to be by water. The 
enlistment of a camel corps, for the 



832 



EUROPE IX STOHM AXI) CALM. 



crossing of the lU'Scrl, — a novel experi- 
ment, ■\vliieli proved of great practieal 
serviee, — ■ was ordered. The railway 
corps were set to buildiug a road 
across twenty miles of desert beyond 
Sarras, to escape the Senmeli eataiacts. 
When everything was ready Wolseley 
was to advance to Wady Haifa and 
direct operations thence. Meantime 
there were many combats going on over 
other parts of the Soudan which were 
draining the P^nglish pnrse and losing 
English lives to no permanent purpose 
and little present etiect. The Mahdi"s 
forre was greatly scattered, and much 
of it uncertain. The Mudir of Dongola 
remained loyal to the Khedive, and was 
a bulwark against the iNIahdi's advance. 
Now Gordon had made striking moves 
outsiile of Khartoum, and reports went 
over the world of the most singular 
character, so that there was actually 
triumpliant talk, September 21st, over a 
despatch f'l'om tiie ]Mn<lir recoiuiting 
victories gained by Gordon in July and 
Angust. the latest a moutii liack, which 
the Mudii' said resulted in raising liie 
siege of Khartoum. lint though the 
lines were l)rokeu several times by tlie 
maguilicent dashes of Goidon and Stew- 
art, and the food siipplies of the lie- 
leaguereil phice re|)lenishcd, the siege 
was destineil never to be rniscd. It 
was on Octolier 3, Wolseley being then 
at Wady Haifa, and the expedition mak- 
ing slow progress up the Nile, that Gen- 
end (iordou advanced with two steiimers 
from Kh:ii'touin. boml>ar<led Berber, and 
I'etook it from the Mahdi's forces, on the 
retui'u from which expedition Colonel 
Stewart .•uid Mr. Power were killed. 
This success had determined the false 
|)rophet ui)on an absolute investment, 
and he gathered forces from Car and 
near, and soon had ovt-r l."i,n(HI men 
around Khartoum. On the 4th of 



November he called upon (iordou to 
surrender ; but tliat stanch heart did 
not fail him, and he leturned answer, 
'• Not for ten years," and afterward sent 
worth '• When you, O Malidi ! dry up 
the Nile and walk .across dry-shod with 
your troops and get into Khartoum and 
take uie, then 1 will surrender the town, 
and not before." But, as a nuitter of 
fact, he did not intend to surrender the 
town, or himself ; nor did he intend to 
accept from the expedition a personal 
relief for himself, or the relief of that 
garrison alone. About this time, in his 
diary, he repeatedlj" expressed his deter- 
mination never to leave Khaitoum so 
long as there remained a gari isoii in the 
Soudan unrelieved, or without a govern- 
ment being established of some sort. 
"If any emissary or letter comes up 
here ordering me to come down, I will 
not obey it," he wrote, " but will stay 
here and fall with the town, and run all 
lisks ; " for he felt that tiie peo|ile had 
placed in him their entire contidence, 
and it would lie treachery in him to 
abandon them, even should he only stay 
as nothing but a private person, without 
authority. Little was heard from him 
outside for months ; l)ut a few words 
occasionally got through on bits of pafier 
stuffed in the hollow of quills and car- 
ried ill the messenger's bushy haii', and 
by other such means. These were 
sometimes full of despair, as in a note 
received in November by a friend at 
Cairo, saying, " Farewell ; you will 
never hear from me again. I fear that 
tliere will be treachery in the gai-rison, 
and all will be ovei' by Christmas.". 
Sometimes they were cheerfid, as the 
line '• Khartoum all right, 1-fth Decem- 
ber," which reached head-quarters at 
Korti, on New Year's Day. 

The colunm under General Herbert 
•Stewart made a rapid inarch across the 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



833 



desert, and the camels were extremely 
satisfactory. The advance had reached 
Gakdul Wells and Hovveiyat Wells, 
near Metemneh, January 10, and Gen- 
eral Gordon's steamers were plying on 
the river between Khartoum and Me- 
temneh, not only to keep 
. the water-way open, but 

to communicate, as soon 
as possible, with the re- 

■ lief force and to gather 

sup|)lies, which 
they succeeded 
t in doing. The 

second 
i)art of 



^ififi 



,1.1. ;l 



men approached Abu Klea Wells, they 
were attacked by from 8,000 to 10,000 
of the Mahdi's followers, at a point 
twenty-three miles north-west of Me- 
temneh, and lost sixty-five in slain 
and eighty-five in wounded, after 
killing eight hundred of the rebels and 
wounding as many more. General 
Stewart formed his troops into a hol- 
low squai'e, with his field-pieces at the 
corners and with the invalids and the 
provisions in the centre. The Arabs 
made their attack in a tumultuous lush, 
directed principally upon the side of the 
square held by the hussars. It was a 
fierce hand-to-hand fight most of the 
time. A steady and deadly fire was 
kei)t up by the hussars and the mounted 
infantry, while tlie artillery niaintained 




DEI'ARTlfRE OF TROOPS FOR EGYPT. 



the forces travelled mucii more .slowly 
across the desert than the first, for 
every ounce of food and water had 
to be carried, and there was terrible 
suffering from thirst. General Earle's 
party were making their way u|) the 
Nile, and the forc<'s were expected 
soon to unite. On the afternoon of 
the IGth, as the little army of 1,500 



an enfilading fire, which pilrd dead 
Aralis up in heaps. The s|)ace in 
front of the British right fiauk was a 
veritable slaughter-pen. But among 
the English dead were some important 
men, most noteworthy being Lieutenant- 
Colonel Fred ]5urnaby, who made the 
famous '• Ride to Khiva," and who was 
killed by an Arab spear thrust through 



,s;u 



EUROI-E IX STORM A.YO CALM. 



his neck. The victory had been gained 
ut great cost. 

Twelve diiys later another liattlc was 
fonght at Metemneh. and with disas- 
ter. (Jeneral Stewart was desperately 
wounded, and two Loudon newspaper 
correspondents were killed, — St. Leger 
Herbert, of "The Morning Post," and 
Mr. Cameron, of " The .Standard." The 
n(tleft)rce, amid the storm of bullets, and 
under commaud of Sir Charles Wilson, 
began a retreat to the Nile, firing ni a 
ruiiniug fight all along the line as the_y 
went. Not till night did the enemy 
withdraw. But, having placed them- 
selves ia a strongly-fortified position 
at Gubat on the Nile, the English 
troops rested secure. The next day 
four of Gordon's steamers came down 
from Khartoum, with a reinforcement 
of five hundred soldiers and several 
guns, (ieneral Earle's column m a few 
days arrived at Berti, and occupied it. 
Tliere was now every ho[)e of a speedy 
entrance into Khartoum. This was Gen- 
eral Wolseley's exi)ectation, and tlie 
people of London were full of rejoic- 
ing. 

Suddenly, with(.iut the lea.st prepara- 
ti(jn, a cruel blow fell which crushed 
all the British hopes. On the 5th of 
February the news reached England that 
Khartoiun had fallen into the hands of 
tlu; IMahdi ; that massacre had followed ; 
and that the fate of the brave Gordon 
was unkiKJwn. 

Sir diaries Wilson had steamed up the 
Nile, January 21, with tvventy men of the 
Sussex Regiment and three hundred and 
(went}' Soudanese, who had but just 
before come down from (Jordou. As tliey 
neaied Khartoum they found, to their 
alarm and surprise, that every point on 
the way was in the hands of enemies, 
and when they had approached within 
eight hundred yards of the walls, instead 



of (iordon to welcome them, they were 
confronted by thousands of Arabs, wildly 
waving flags, and a dozen pieces of 
artillery, backed liy a thousand rifles, 
opened fire upon them. Against this 
odds it was, of course, impossible to 
land, and Wilson retreated down the 
river. His steamers were both wreckeil 
on the way, by treacherous [lilots, but 
the men all escaped, and remained three 
days OD an island before tliey were 
rescued. The whole story of the fall of 
Khartoum lias never been told liy any 
relial)le [lerson, thougli there have been 
a score of minute accounts, each one 
contradicting every other. The most 
that IS credibly ascertained is that Khar- 
toum was betrayed by three Soudanese 
sheiks, Avliom Gordou had treated only 
too well. Faragh Pasha, whom Gordon 
had once had condemned to death and 
tlieu pardoned, is said to have been the 
man who opened the gates of the city, 
and some add even that he was the one 
who struck Gordon dead. Maiij' pictures 
have been drawn of Gordon's death, the 
most probable being that, hearing an 
unusual noise on the street, he stepped 
to tlie door of the government house, and 
was stabbed on the threshold. There was 
a romance which man}' wished to believe, 
that the brave soldier had been made 
captive by the Mahdi, who would treat 
him well ; and, indeed, there are those 
who do believe that Gordon yet lives. 
The story of tlie Soudan is not yet 
finished, though Wolseley has returned 
to F]ngland with no new honors, and tlie 
garrisons of the Egyptians at Kassala 
and other places have not been relieved. 
Suakini, on the lied Sea, is in the British 
hands ; the Italians hold Massowah, 
against the protests of the King of 
Abyssinia, but Osman Digna possesses 
all the country between there and tlie 
Nile, except where sundry fierce tribes 



ElUiOI'K IM STORM AND CALM. 



K35 



dwell that will not recognize the Main I i ; 
and the region is in its normal state of 
predatory war. The Soiulauese want to 
be free from the Egyptians, free from 
the British, and left to their own way of 
life, without the innovation of the tax- 
gatherer, that leech that drains the life 
of the poor fellaheen. Whether they 
had much religious confidence in the 
Mahdi may be questioned, Imt lie was 
a leader for liberty, and that lias 
been enough. Of late Mohammed 



Ahmed has been reported dead and 
revived again alternately so often that it 
is somewhat a mystery. But it is no 
mystery that the British in the Soudan 
have sustained great loss of prestige, 
and have accomplished nothing toward 
the strengthening of their dominion in 
the East, where tliey are destined to be 
forever menaced by the ambition of 
rulers, the rivalry of trade, the restive- 
nessof siil)iect nations, and the treachery 
of aUies anil tributaries. 



836 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



CHAPTER NINETY-FOUR. 

Tlic Dualli of Vic-tor Hugo. —The Greatest European M:u\ of Letters since Goethe. — Napoleon III.'s 
Irreconcilable Foe. — His Obsequies. — The Pautlieon Secularized. — In State Beneath the Arch 
of Triumph. — A Vast Processiou. — The Demonstration of the French People. 



ONE of the memorable events of the 
present year in Europe, iinques- 
tion;il)ly, was the death of Victor Hugo, 
hong acknowledged as the greatest of 
all the ))oets of France, living or dead, 
and ftiinoiis in his i)rime as the k'tiilcr 
of llie Romantic revolution in French 
literature and tlie august head of thtit 
school, he had become the i)riiicipal m;ni 
in Eur()i)eaii letters since Goethe ; uiort' 
than that, he li.-iil lun-ne a great jiart in 
tiie advtmcH' of Europe toward frcedoiii, 
in all lields of life, in socittl :in<l pdliliral, 
ill nation:d ami iiitcmMticmal iiiDXemenls. 
lioi'ii an :ii istiicrat, he lii^canie the most 
nidictil and lirnad-miiided of reinibliciuis, 
and w;is true to tlie people in their storm 
as ill their ctilin. He had no toleration 
for tyrants ; nothing conld make him 
compromise his principles by condoning 
the crime of tlie Second of Deceml)er,aiid 
when many another repuljlieau of 184S 
had accepted office, and almost all im- 
munity from Napoleon IH., Victor Hugo, 
faithful to his professions, wimld not 
reenter France, l)ut hurled his fierce in- 
vective against "This beggar-wretch," — 

"This brigand whom the Pope hath blessed in 

all his sin ; 
This sceptre-fingering, this crowiiar-hamled 

one ; 
Tins Charlemagne by the devil hewn out of a 

Manadrin," 

as he called him in a poem of '' Les 
Chdtiments," wherein aLso he declared 



that while the great criminal reigned in 
France, he accepted exile, " have it nor 
end nor term " : — 

"lie tlu're a tliousaml, I am one; or if onr 

strength 
Have bnt one hundred left, Sylla is lirave<l l)y 

me : 
If only ten continue, I will be the tenth; 
And if but oni' reriiain. I tlien that one will be." 

Aftei- Hugo's detith the London 
" Times " cavilled, as it had in his life, 
at his constant appeals in behalf of 
causes for charity or pity, declaring that 
he ditl littlr for humanity, ;'.nd that his 
seiitiinentalism was rather vague and 
inoperative. This was unfair and un- 
generous. Victor Hugo w:xs as thorougli 
a warrior for ideals as were Willi;im 
Lloyd fiarrison or John Brown ; he 
was ready at any time to lay down 
his life or saeriflce his fortune for the 
truth. Some far-off day, when the hu- 
man race shudders as it remembers that 
society once practised capital piniish- 
ment up<m criminals — thus announcing 
its own disbelief in tiiat sacredness 
of human life wliicli it sought to teach 
— the passionate and constant protests 
of Hugo against the barl)arity of exe- 
cutioners will l)e treasured as memo- 
rials of a courage which has had few 
etpitds in Ihe nineteenth century. His 
sentimental appeals have done more 
for the jH-ogress of liberalism in legisla- 
tion and in thought in Euroi)e than a 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



837 



score of the most prominent English 
writers have effected. Reformer, with :i 
pen tipped with fire, the good man 
wrote his denunciations of shams and 
tyrannies without ihe smallest regard for 
the evil consequences which his daring 
might bring up(;n himself. Tiie praises 
at this moment accorded iiim in France 
are somewhat extravagant ; yet it is not 
too much to say that no other man lias left 
so strong an imi)ression on this century. 
Hugo may be said to have had three 
lives — through all of whicli runs a con- 
sistent thread of noble effort for the 
improvement of humanity. Kven in his 
earlier poems he is already tlie rates. 
The things say themselves ; he is Init 
the medium ; his spirit is a delicate lyre 
through which the wind of the world 
flows, awakening it to harmonicjus notes, 
now tender, now mai'tial. In his middle 
life of struggle and exile lie appears 
both as vates and as consummate artist. 
He hears the voices of the hidden choir, 
an<l in reporting their messages to men 
he clothes them in most felicitous phrase. 
All that he does, he does best : it is 
pitched in exalted key ; his subject, as 
Emerson said of poetry, is always 
"lifted into air." In the final period, 
when struggle is over, and when he is 
looking back, with gaze chastened and 
cleared by earthly sorrows, his whole 
strength is turned to the task of preach- 
ing love, reconciliation, forgiveness, 
peace. In Senate and in his library he 
labored for mercy, for the comfort of the 
toiling masses, for the pacific accom- 
plishment of social reform. He was an 
advanced republican of the highest type ; 
and the sentiments which he so boldly 
proposed will do more than anything 
else to bring about disarmament, arbitra- 
tion, sincerity in politics. Men said 
" the age of Voltaire ; " they will say 
" the age of Hugo." 



The buri.al of the great man was 
preceded and accompanied by the most 
elaborate and exceptional ceremonies, 
notwithstanding that in his will he had 
written that he wished to l)e borne to his 
grave in the hearse of the [loor. A 
connnittee representing the best in French 
literature, painting, and sculpture made 
preparations to celebrate the dead ; the 
government decreed the secularization of 
the Pantheon to receive his remains, and 
to the great scandal of the Roman Church 
the stone cross that surmounted its portals 
was hewn off in visible symbol of the 
divorce of religion from the temple which 
Louis the Well-Beloved built ; which 
the Revolution in 1791 consecrated to the 
illustrious dead of [ho nation, entomb- 
ing therein Voltaire, and Rousseau, and 
Mirabeau ; which the Bourbons restored 
to the Church, and called by the name 
of Ste. Genevieve, and which the pious 
Louis Napoleon, in 1851, gave liack to 
the Church after another brief period of 
[jopular possession. There was a certain 
fitness that Hugo's sepulture should undo 
the consecration given by the grace of 
Napoleon Le Petit. His body could 
not have been buried there while the 
Churcli held the splendid building, for 
bell or book Hugo would have none. 
Not that he was irreligious; although he 
refused the visit of a i)riest in his last 
hours, he was not without (iod in the 
world. In his \y'\\\,ov testament mystique, 
as it is called, Hugo made a philosophical 
explanation of his beliefs. He has 
always and on all public occasions, when 
it seemed appropriate, affirmed his belief 
in God. His contempt for tlie modern 
materialist was nearly as great as his 
scorn for the bigot. Catholic or Protes- 
tant. His religion was the religion of 
humanity ; love was its central and in- 
forming purpose ; love for God, love for 
his neighbor. 



838 



EUROPE JN STORM A\D CALM. 



All funerals in France are suri-oinideil 
with many ccremonions observances; 
the iionipof death is, indeed, given a sort 
of luxurious indulgence, and there has 
never jet been a thought of adding 
" Please omit flowers" to the elaborate 
letters of invitation which are always 
dispatched to friends bj' the nearest 
relative of the deceased, on heav}' l)lack- 
bordered paper, folded over and mailed 
without envelopes. When the dead is a 
distinguished man or woman there are 
more pains taken, and among the features 
of French news always are the funerals 
of notables. Such an occasion has more 
than once centred or starte<l a popular 
movement, and the government alwaj's 
has a careful oversight of the burial of the 
great, as it had over that of Victor Hugo. 
The Conservatives and the Monarchists 
had the notion tliat the funeral parade 
would be made the occasion for a mani- 
festation against property, or, possibly, 
against the government, by the Anarch- 
ists ; in fact, the Inmrriciiis were in a 
veritable funk. The Catholics felt that 
should the funeral be disgraced in some 
way by misconduct of the assembled 
thousands, they might say, " You see to 
what a secular funeral leads." But these 
were all disai)i)oinled. The management 
of funerals in Paris is under the charge 
of the Fonqws Fftnibres, a cooperative 
society under government patronage, 
which has the monoi)oly of the trade in 
cofDus, so that there are no undertakers' 
shops in Paris, and which supplies the 
entire machinerj' of the funeral at a 
flxed price, set down in a printed tariff. 
A State funeral, like that of Henri Mar- 
tin, the historian, costs some l.'i,O0(l 
francs, and the PoiiqK'xFimehres furnishes 
a master of ceremonies, a cor|).s of oflicial 
mourners, huge mortuary carriages and 
a colossal hearse, while the government 
adds ji military escort and immortelles. 



The T'liiaiii'K Fiiiu'hrctt did its li(^st to 
fullil Ihe detnands of the great occasion 
of Hugo's burial ; but most of the dis- 
play was quite beyond its power and 
scope. Greater honors were paid to the 
Ijoct than have been paid to any sover- 
eign of France f(jr three hundred years, 
notwithstanding his desire for a modest 
burial, lieside the remains of his wife and 
(laughter, whic^h lie in the little grave- 
yard of the parish church of Ville(iuier, 
on the right bank of the .Seine, halfway 
between Rouen and Havre. The people 
would not have it so, and thus, although 
his body was borne to its rest on the 
|):uipt'r's hearse, it was as the centre of a 
triiun|)hal procession, and, although no 
church rites were observed, there were 
such spontaneous demonstrations of 
affection and admiration by the people 
as rendered the perfunctory honors of 
clerical routine quite insignificant. The 
assembly voted 20,000 francs for the 
funeral expenses. Committees were a\t- 
pointcd of the Senate, of which Victor 
Hugo was a member, and of the Chamber 
of Deputies, to attend the obsequies. 
Deputations were appointed from all 
parts of France and Europe, from munici- 
palities, and from societies. From the 
Academy were sent the last four members 
elected to the fellowship of the Forty 
Immortals, — Paillerou, IMazade, Copp6e, 
and De Lesseps. The list of the depu- 
tations filled seven and a half closely 
l)rinted colunms of a large journal the 
exening before the funeral. 

Tlie bodj- of Victor Hugo was laid in 
state, beneath the Arch of Triumph, 
during Siniday, May 31. The evening 
befoiv it had been placed in the coffin, 
in the presence of witnesses, among 
whom were Mrae. Lockroy (mother of 
Georges and Jeanne Hugo, the poet's 
Sfrandchildreu), Auguste Vacquerie, Paul 
Meurice, and Leopold Hugo. In the 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



839 



iuiier coHln beside the body were placed 
the photographs of Hugo's children and 
grandchildren, a bronze medallion of the 
elder Vacquerie, — the husband of Hugo's 
favorite daughter, Leopoldine, and sharer 
of her tragic death by the oversetting of 
a boat forty vears ago ; bronze medals 
of Hugo's face, and a bouipiet of roses. 
Tlien the coffins were closed, and early 
Siniday moiniiig, in the dawn of a beau- 
tiful day, the employes of the Fovipex 
Fiin(''brrs carried their cJiarge to the 
'rriiuuphal Arch, hopiug at that hour to 
be uninterrupted in their work of installa- 
tion within the catafalque. But so great 
was the curiosity of the people that by 
the time the wagon containing the body 
reached the Arch there was a compact 
crowd of ten thousand men, with un- 
covered heads, all around the square of 
the Etoile. The catafalque was very 
high, and immense black velvet draper- 
ies, seamed with silver, hung around it, 
wliile all aroiuid were heaps of tlowers 
and wreaths, several feet high. The 
receptacle for the cotlin was in form like 
a vast sarcophagus, black and silver, 
placed upon a double pedestal, and deco- 
rated in front with a crown traversed by 
palms, and a medallion of the Republic, 
with these words beneath: "Liberty, 
Equality, and Fraternity." This sarcoph- 
agus was so artfully arranged that 
from whichever point one approached the 
Arch its lilack and silver were distinctly 
seen. Great mourning bands of erajjc 
were artistically draped from the summit 
to the base of the mighty Arch. The 
catafalque was half buried beneath 
flowei's whose perfume loaded the air. 
The " lost provinces " were given a prom- 
inent place, and among the inscriptions 
were : " The City of Strasburg to Victor 
Hugo;" "The City of Mnlhouse ; " 
" The Ladies of Thann to Hugo." Near 
by was a handsome wreath bearing the 



words: " The City of Boston to Victor 
Hugo." Under the superb sunshine of 
the afternoon the spectacle — with tln' 
faces of flags draped in black, tlie mam- 
moth lampadaires placed in a circle 
around the Arch, the shields bearing 
the names of the poet's works, and the 
unending crowds passing with bowed 
heads — was vastly impressive. At even- 
ing, after the torches were lighted, the 
scene was weird. The glitter of the 
uniforms of the cavalry and infantry 
guards, the innocent faces of the 3'oung 
children from the school battalions, the 
uplifted visages of the rough men pass- 
ing by, many with eyes brimful of tears 
as they came beneath the Arch, the 
reverent hum of the myriads of voices, 
— all these were imposing. The Master 
reposed beneath the monument which he 
had so often celebrated in his verse, — the 
monument which celebrates the victories 
of Jemappes, Mareugo, Zurich, Hohen- 
linden, Austerlitz, Eylau. Above and 
around him wei'e inscribed the names of 
three hundred and eighty-six generals 
and one hundred and twenty-six vic- 
tories. Behind his sarcophagus stretcheil 
the Avenue de la Grande Arm<;e. 

The grand procession and the entomb- 
ment in the Pantheon, on Monday, June 
1, were characterized by features which 
made them. unprecedented in Paris. No 
such number of people has passed under 
the Triumphal Arch during one day since 
the return of the ashes of Napoleon the 
Great to the Invalides. But on that occa- 
sion nothing like the enormous tlu'ong 
which gathered this morning on the 
Place I'Etoile was seen. By noon there 
were certainly 7.^0,000 people in the area 
between the Tuileries Gardens and t'.ie 
Porte Maillot and tlie uet-uork of streets 
radiating in all directions from the Arch. 
By nine o'clock, the hour appointed for 
the assembling of the hundreds of asso- 



840 



FA:R01'E in storm AM) CALM. 



ciations, which were diviilcd into no less 
than twciity-C'iglit different groups, tlic 
morning was cool and Ijriglit, and the 
tlu'ongs were in the best of good-luinior. 
All the exaggerated notions of the Con- 
servatives about the dang(n- of a Com- 
nuinistie demonstration were rendered 
gi'onndless by tlii' energetic action of the 
police iigcnts, who. whenever they saw 
a delegation headed by a red flag, took 
])ossession of the emblem, ad\ising the 
maiiifestors not to resist, as it might be 
unpleasant for them to do so in the midst 
of a crowd whose majority were cer- 
tainlj' anti-Connniniistic in sentiment. 
There were but eighteen red flags brought 
from the whole of the Communist quarter 
of Paris and from the various cities of 
France, and these were taken away, to 
lie handed liack on the morrow to those 
who could show title to them. The whole 
clerical party professed to believe, up to 
the last moment of the [irocession's jias- 
sago along its line of route, that there 
would be scenes of willl disorih'i'. and 
that the Connnnne would make itself 
visible and demonstrate its growing 
strength. The Ministry felt that there 
would lie no manifestation, both because 
it could have been instantly suppressed, 
and because even the Anarchists had 
decency and sense of consistency enough 
to see that it would be wrong to mani- 
fest at Hugo's funeral. 

Those who were fortunate enough to 
b<^ in the immediate neighborhood of the 
Arch, and to look down ui)on the scene 
of the ofiicial ceremony, found it very 
picturesque and entertaining. There 
were the official delegations, accompanied 
by brilliant escorts of cuirassiers, the 
generals and presidents who repre- 
sented the military household of the 
President of the Rciiublic. all the 
oflieers of the Legion of Honor, the 
Ministry, the Diiilomatic Corps, the 



Senate, the Chamber, the twenty Mayors 
of Paris, the ^lunicipal Councillors, the 
Academicians in their somewhat gro- 
tesque uniforms ; all these being harmo- 
niously grouped alioul the towering 
catafalque, which stood in bold relief 
against the brilliant lilue of the sky. 
The ollicial speeches began. Of course 
only those who were close at hand could 
henr them, and those who were far away 
missed little, for. with few exceptions, 
the speaking was dry :ind tame. Emile 
Augier, the poet's ohl friend, sai<l some 
eloquent words, declaiiug that the occa- 
sion was not a funeral. Imt a consecra- 
tion ; and JMinister Floquet entered into 
direct rivalry with liim liy in-onouncing 
it not a funeral, lint an ajiotheosis. 
Hugo, said Moquet, was tlie immortal 
apostle who bequeathed to hunuiiuty that 
gospel which could lead the [leoiile to 
the delinili\e con(]uest of " Liberty, 
p]quality, Fraternity."' M. Goblet, 
jiresident of the Chambers of Deputies, 
declared that Victor Hugo wiil remain 
the highest iiersonilication of the nine- 
teenth century, the histm-y of which, in 
its contradictions, doubts, ideas, and 
asiiirations, was best reflected in his 
works. 

While the speeches were going on, down 
below, along the slopes of the Champs 
Elys(^'cs, thousands of workmen and work- 
women were driving a brisk tr:ide in the 
leasing of ladders and the tops of 
wagons, chairs, improvised platforms, 
and other expedients for allowing the 
late-comers to see over the heads of the 
more fortunate ones who had preceded 
them. Ambulating merchants sold sau- 
sages and beer, eider, wine, and brandy 
to the thirsty and hungry, who had left 
their honu's before dawn in order to be 
in time for the procession's passage. 
The lame and blind beggars sprawled 
upon the sidewalk : the blue-bloused 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



841 



workmen cliattod and laugluxl ; and, in- 
deed, the whole mass (jf the populace 
evidently regarded the day more as a 
celebration of Hugo's glory than as the 
sombre occasion of liis funeral rites. 
This was well enough, for mourning was 
a weolf old, and the real demonstrations 
of grief on the jiart of the i)eople were 
sincere and voluminous enough when 
the news of the old poet's death was 
first announced. It should not be lor- 
gotten, too, that the •' people" meant ti) 
manifest, and did it, on the whole, in a 
verj' intelligent fashion. 

The funeral was a little more th:in 
twice as large as that of (Jambetta. 
The black masses of delegations which 
came into view in IVont of the Arch 
seemed endless. Tliey were nf)t very 
entertaining, — on the contrary, somewhat 
monotonous ; Init their numbers were 
overpowering. The wreatlis, crowns, 
inscriptions, beds and banks of flowers, 
borne in the procession, are said to have 
cost about three millions of francs. In 
this show the hearse of Hugo was a 
sombre spot. It was the same in which 
Jules Vall6s, the Communist, had short- 
ly before been borne to his last abode. 
Of tlie plainest description, even the 
humble ornaments which usually be- 
deck it were removed. Within the 
hearse was placed the coffin, draped with 
a lilaelv elotii, and two laurel wreaths 



wore placed at its head. Thousands 
upon thousands of school children, ar- 
ranged in what are called the school 
battalions, and arrayed as soldiers and 
sailors, and many thousands of the 
young men enrolled in the gymnastic 
corps, were in the [larade. Therp was 
also a vast throng of Freemasons, and 
the military parade was quite large. 
The Army of Paris, as tlie corps of 
20,000 or ;^0,000 men, all stationed here, 
is calle<l, was on duty. Tliousauds of 
soldiers formed a kind of living hedge 
to keel) back the enthusiastic spectators ; 
other thousands headed the procession, 
and kept guard over the eleven great 
chariots hca|)ed with flowers and 
w^reaths ; and still other thon-.ands 
brought up the rear, the sparkling <:• n- 
pany of infantry, cavalry, and art.ilery 
being interspersed with many bands of 
music. At the corner of the Luxem- 
bourg garden, where a statue of Victor 
Hugo has been erected, each group 
lialted and the bands played a funeral 
march. All heads were bared when the 
simple hearse passed. The steps of the 
Pantheon were covered yards high with 
flowers. By four o'clock the last word 
had been said, and the body of Victor 
Hugo was borne to the vault in the crypt, 
and laid to rest beside the tomb of 
Rousseau. 



842 



EirROPK /A' STORM AND OAhM. 



CHAPTER NINETY-FIVE 



TiUborers for Pe;ire. — Tho Now TLMTitorio>i f,nvun to EiirojuMn Powers by tho ('onj;'o Conference. — 
Impossibility of Permanent Peace. — Believers in Arbitration. — M. De Lcsseps and Mr. Stanley. — 
The t'nite<l States of Europe. — Victor lluj^'o's Dream. — Uepublican Sentiment. — The Strengllien- 
In;;' of the French Republic. ^"WIU Stnrrii ami Calm Forever Alternate in Europe ? 



ENTHUSIASTIC ).olievi'rs in the 
|i()ssiliilitv of peiiiwnent ji(';ici> in 
tilt' woilil niiglit (.k-rive some sup[ioil. for 




ktm; of nKi,(iiiiM. 



thi'ir belief from the fact that so many 
men ill exalted station :ue engaged in 
paeilic enierprises, rather than in those of 
(•on(|iiest. They could point to the King of 
the Belgians as a eonspicuous instance of 
one, who. aided liy the alilest and wisest 
of lieutenants, has niad(> what iniuht 
have licen a sanguinary and i-eiireheiisi- 
hle conquest only a tranquil, although 



resistless, pushing forwtird of civilization 
into tile troiililed wilderness. Mr. .Stan- 
ley's story ami his relation to the King 
of the IJelgians in their joint maguifieent 
enterprise are now well-known through- 
out the world. As the result of the Congo 
Congress, mentioned in a preceding 
cha[)ter, there has been a greater exten- 
sion of European iutlueiUH; over African 
territory tlian is generally supposed. 
Mr. Stanley himself, in his terse and 
excellent account of the Conference, 
says: "Two European powers emerge 
out of the elaborate discussit)ns, [tvo- 
tracted for such a long period, with 
euormonsly increased colonial posses- 
sions. France is now mistress of a West 
African territor_y, noble in its dimensions, 
equal to tlie liest tropic lands for its 
vegetable productions, rich in mineral 
resources, most pnnnising for its future 
c(jmmercial importance. In area it 
covers a sn[ieriicics of two hundred and 
fifty-sevi'U th(jusand square miles, equal 
to that of France and England combined, 
with access on the eastern side to five 
thousand two hundred miles of river 
navigation. On the west is a coast line 
nearly eight hundred iniK's long, washed 
by the Atlantic Ocean. It contains within 
its liordcrs eight spacious ri\er basins, 
and throughout all its broad surface of 
ninety millions of square liectares not 
one utterly destitute of worth can be 
found. Portugal issues out of llie 
Congress with a coast line nine Imndred 



EUROPE IX STORM AND CALM. 



S4;^ 



and ninety-five English miles in length, 
three Imndred and lifty-one thonsand 
square statute miles in extent, a territory 
larger than tlie combined areas of France, 
Belgium, Holland, and Great Britain. 
On the Lower Congo, its river- liank is one 
hundred and three miles in lengtii. It can 
now boast of healthy pastoral lands to the 
south, oil and rubber producing forests 
northward, mineral fields in the nortli- 
easteru portion of its territory, and val- 
uable agricultural regions in its eastern 
borders. If herownpopulation were added 
to the aboriginal population of this Afri- 
can colonial teiritory, anil extended over 
its area, there would still )>e sullicient to 
give thirtv-two and tliree-fourths acres to 
each Portuguese white and black sul)jeet. 
Her home and colonial populations of all 
colors number in all eight million three 
hundred thonsand. Tlie area of her terri- 
tories in Africa, Asia, and tlie Oceans 
measures seven hundred and forty-one 
thousand three hundred and forty-three 
square miles, orfourhundred and seventy- 
four million five hundred thousand acres, 
— sufficient to give each subject fifty- 
seven acres. Great P>ritain, on the other 
hand, with all her vast acreage of five 
biUion fifty-six million of acres, can 
only give to eacii of her two hundred and 
forty-nine millions of people the small 
portion of twenty and one-fourth acres. 
The International Association surren- 
dered its claims to sixty thousand three 
hundred and sixty-six square miles of 
territory to France, and to Portugal 
forty-five thousand four hundred square 
miles, for which consideration six 
hundred square miles of the north bank 
between Bonia and tlie sea were conceded 
to it, besides cordial recognition of its 
remaining territorial rights from two 
powerful neighbors. To the world at 
large, the two powers above mentioned 
have been also duly considerate, for 



the territories surrendered to them bv 
the Association have been consecrated 
to free trade, which, along with those 
recognized as belonging to the Associa- 
tion, and preordained for such uses, and 
tiiose yet unclaimed by any power, but 
still reserved for the same privileges, 
form a clomain equal to one million 
six hundred thousand square miles in 
extent, throughout which most excep- 




HKNRY M. STANLEY. 



tional privileges have been secured by 
the cordial unanimity of the riveraine of 
the United States and European powers 
for commerce. With due reserve for the 
sovereign rights of Portugal and Zanzi- 
bar, this free trade area extends across 
Africa to within one degree of the east 
coast, thus enlarging the privileged com- 
mercial zone to two million four hundred 
thousand square miles." 

The ac((uisiti()n of these innnense 
territories by France and by Portugal, 
and the opening of tlu; vast domain 
of the Free State to the one countrv 



.S44 



KUROI'E l.V STdllM AXD CAL.U. 



wliicli could liest profit liy its opoiiint;', 
to (iroat Britain, — nil this is ciiii- 
iicntly the worlc of JNIr. Stanley, who has 
within less than fifteen years stepped 
from llie p<jsition of a I'oviiig S|)eci;d cor- 
respondent to that of the (irst of modern 
explorers and a politician and dijilomat 
i^f no nu'nn order. 

All tlie distinctly trrcat men in Fairope, 
men of eompreheusi\e vision and accu- 




M. DE LESSEPS. 



rate knowledge, are anxious for peaee. 
Risinarck himself wants peace, and 
mea,ns lo eomi)el it by demonstrating 
the usclessness of undertaking to combat 
the armies which lie could bring to bear 
against an intending enemy. Thiers, 
even after the rude sjux'k which his 
theories of the balance of power in 
Knrope had i-eccived in the Fratico- 
German eonttict, hojx'd that European 
peace? might be maintained, although 
in the \-erv year of his death the cmillict 
between Uussia and 'I'urkcv was lai'iui'". 



There is liltle need to remind the Amer- 
ican )-eader that Mr. Gladstone is a firm 
disciple of peace, and that in these 
latter daj's he is not averse to leading 
up to the general adoption of the great 
piinei[)le of arliitration in international 
disputes. 

All the intelligent and capable politi- 
cians in France want peace : it is only 
the lilusteriug and incomiietent who 
clamor for a war of vengeance, or who 
would like to see France outer ni)on a 
policy of adventure, in eonucction even 
with the most illustrious allies. The 
poets, the philosophers, the great build- 
ers and engineers, men like the brilliant 
•and ]ihenomenal De Le.sseps, are all in 
I'avor of peace, and the colossal vision 
of the old French poet — "llie United 
States of iMU'ope." of which he fondly 
dreamed while iu his exile amid the 
rocks of the Channel Islau<ls, is often 
enough talked of as the forerunner of a 
possible reality. lint although kings 
labor iu ]ieaceful channels, and dip- 
lomats prei)are war that they may main- 
tain iieace, — although they establish 
formidable alliances to prevent the (ws- 
siliility of sudden declarations of war, 
there is no man so wise and none so 
daring in F^iu-ope as to iiro|)hesy that 
the shad(jw of war may not fall across 
the historic lands ; that F>nroi)e may not 
once more, and almost without warniug, 
be plunged into a period of storm just 
as she is l)eginuiug to appieciate the 
l)lessings of calm. Every Euro|)eau 
country is making great material prog- 
ress, striving towards higher levels of 
education, of industry, of scientific and 
artistic attainment ; but every one has 
some (jnarrel with its neighlior, or is iu 
some danger from surrounding nations. 
None is completely at ease. The fed- 
eration of which the poet sings may 
scarcely be expected before the more 



EUROPE IiV STORM AND CALM. 



845 



powerful of tlif ijrpat States have ab- 
sorbed SMcli of t!ie smaller States as they 
wish to absorb. 

Men like M. De Lessops and Mr. 
Stanley, in the calm and steadfast con- 
duct of their gigantic enterprises, do not 
reflect that they are sowing the seeds of 
possible conflict by opening up new 
fields for commerce and new highways 
to these fields. When M. De Lesseps 
dug his canals through the sands of 
Egypt, in the face of the sneers of Palra- 
erston, and indeed of nearly all 
Englishmen of influence, he scarcely 
thought that he was awakening jealous- 
ies which might endanger from time to 
time the friendly relations of France 
and England, neighbor countries which 
have every interest to remain at peace 
with each other ; and he has always 
persistently denied, when led to express 
an opinion with regard to his Panama 
enterprise, that there was the slightest 
danger of a collision between European 
and American forces for the control of 
the huge water-way connecting the At- 
lantic and Pacific oceans. Perhaps Mr. 
Stanley, now and then remembering the 
conflicts along the sandy shores of 
Florida and on the lower Mississippi 
between European nations long ago. re- 
flects that France and Germany, or 
Great Britain and competing European 
powers, ma\' yet join battle beside the 
waters of the Congo. Wherever trading 
interests begin to conflict, war follows 
with its devastating tread. There is 
scarcely a war in the European calendar 
since the beginning of the century which 
is not directly or indirectly due to some 
difference about trade or to some deter- 
mined effort to divert trade from one 
channel to another. Europe sighs for 
peace, but there is no peace ; so long as 
interests are diverse, ambitions mani- 
fold, and the heart of man is above all 



things deceitful and desperately wicked, 
storm and calm must have alternate rule. 
The folly of an incapable monarch, the 
precii)itation of a prime minister, or the 
cnergj' of a merchant, — any one of 
tliese causes may plunge nations into 
the miseries of conflict, waste untold 
millions, anil ruin scores of thousands of 
lives. 

It is diflicult to find, in the giv)wtli of 
Ilepulilican sentiment in Euro[)e, any 
definite guarantee of peace. The French 
Republic has been so busy with struggles 
to maintain and assert its existence that 
it has taken no thought of foreign war 
further than to prei)are against a second 
disastrous invasion of its eastern frontier. 
If Germany should by some cataclysm 
be transformed into a Republic, it nnist 
of necessity be for long years to come a 
military power, ambitious, and perhajis 
more aggressive than the present Empire 
has been. The slow nnfolding of Re- 
pul)lican principles in many European 
countries serves, in a certain way, to 
l)romote European dissersions. It 
unites Catholic parties of different nation- 
alities into one compact body, read}' to 
rise at the bidding of a capable leader 
against nations an<l peoples against 
whom it would otherwise have no hos- 
tility. There is no denying that the in- 
fluence of the Roman church is against 
the rise of the people to power. " Gov- 
ernment of the [leople, by the people, 
and for the people," does not consist 
with the secular claims of the Pope. 
The unfriendliness of Church and State 
in Fiance is notorious, and naturally in- 
creases when the Commune rears its 
hateful head in the Assembly, or in the 
City Council of Paris, as it is doing of 
late, or when the government secularizes 
the Pantheon to bury Victor Hugo. The 
maintenance by the Pope of his studied 
pose as "the prisoner of the Vatican'' 



846 



EUJiOPE LV STO/ri/ AXn CALM. 



is nothing lint a refusal to recognize lliat 
tlie people luive tlie supreme and ulti- 
mate riglit to elioose their own govern- 
ment. In Spain it is the clerical party 
that retards the advance of th(> r\e[)ul)lic, 
more than auv love for monareliv. Tlie 




KINi: OK Sl'AlN. 



young king is pinsuiiig llie onlv sa.l'e 
course for kings nowadays, li\ iug simph' 
and showing himself deeply coneerned in 
the wi'lfare of his peo|ile. 

Monarchical diiilomats, while profess- 
ing to look upon the growth of Repulili- 
cau s|iii'it with <'i|u:Miiiiiil V, are constantly 
watching an o[)portunily to do the I»e- 
pLililicau cause a had turn. Jt is not 
unreasonalile to su[)pose that as this 
lil)erali-.m lieconies more intense and 
wide-sjiread in Kuroiie, conservatives who 
have hereloforr iiehl apait fr(.>m eacli 
other shoidd Ihick tugcthcr f<ii' mutual 
sui)port. At Ihis moment the Englisli 
Tories offer a fme illustration of this 
particular fact, stri\ lug to coopeiate with 



(iermauy, a [lower really hostile to many 
of Kngland's greatest interests abroail, 
simply l)ccause they wish support in their 
opposition to the democratic [jrogrannne 
a,l, home. 

Thci'c is no space here to treat in 
detail the growth of the one European 
Re[)ul>lic which has demonstrated its 
right to live during the last few vears. 
Founded l)y its enemies iu spite of them- 
selves, and narrowly escaping strangula- 
tion iu its cradle, the French Republic, 
after numerous vicissitudes since 1.^77, 
has reached a point at which it is afraid 
neither of resolute conservatives nor 
half-crazed radicals. M. Thiers, whcj 
liad the reward of his great services 
during the war and the German occu|)a- 
tidii in his accession to the presidenc\ , 
fell hefore the reactionists, but lived 
long enough to feel that the Republic 
woulil ultimately triumph. Marshal 
iMacMaJion, who inaugurated the septen- 
nial |)rt'sideni'ies, doubtless acted ac- 
cording to his lights while iu the exalted 
ollice. He was not strong enough, 
iiowevfi', to prevent the monstrous injus- 
tice of the counti-r-revolutiun of 1S77. 
as it came to be known in European 
politics. This was a deliberate attem|)t 
on the |)art of ministers hostile to the 
Republic to inaugurate a state of terror- 
ism which should I'cnder the reestablish- 
mcut of monarchy possible. In other 
words, the conservativt'S, ^yho had been 
growing bolilcr daily since the fall from 
power of Thiers, tlesired to provoke the 
Republicans into some lireach of the 
public peace, and then, setting np the 
old ciy <if the necessity of order, get a 
monarch in before Republican institutions 
began to take iixjt. The magnificent 
prudence of (iambctta undei' the greatest 
pri)\dcati(in during this whole period of 
ic'prcssion a(l<lcil iuHnenscly to his repu- 
tation. It showctl that he was well 



EVKUPE IN SrORM AND CALM. 



■S47 



qualified to take tlie lead in tlie moderate 
Republican party wliieh was afterwards 
admitted to be liis natural right. Even 
Thiers was sur|)rised to find Gambetta 
so mucli of a statesman as he proved in 
that crisis. 

The Bonapartists were active, but not 
in the front of this conspiracy against 
the Republic. The death of Napoleon 
III., ill 1.S7;;, in the sylvan 
seclusion <jf Chiselhurst, in 
England, removed the chief 
pretender from the scene, 
and but little fear was had 
of the movements of his son, 
who was (juieth' finishing his 
education in an English mili- 
tary academy. But no one 
knows what party might have 
come uppermost had a breach 
of order been provoked and 
the Republic destroyed in 
1877. It was inexpressibly 
s:id tliat ]\I. Thiers should 
[lass away when this cloud 
of darkness was over the 
country for which he had 
done so much, — sad that his 
last days might not have 
been cheered by the sjjectacle 
of a successful liberal govern- 
ment, like that to which he 
frankly owned his own con- 
version. The funeral of this great 
and good man, on the 8th of Sep- 
tember, 1.S77, was one of the most 
striking spectacles that I ever wit- 
nessed. The Republican party intended 
to make it a tremendous manifestation, 
but felt the necessity, in doing this, of 
preventing, at all cost, anj' violence or 
display of strong emotion, as this woidd 
ha\'c afforded a pretext for the I'epression 
which was ready to hand. The dead 
Thiers, followed to Pere La Chaise by 
thousands upon tliousauds of distiu- 



guished men fi'om all paits of Krauci' 
and of Europe, between lines of siliMit 
men and women, was a warning to liie 
ministry in power that it eonld not turn 
a nation aside from its convictions. A 
million of people on foot in Paris on that 
September day proclaimed their ilevotion 
to the Republican idea which Thiers 
had so frankly defended, after having 




THE END OK A ROMANCE. NAPOLEON 711. ON UIS 
DEATII-BEn. 



l)ecn, as he was wont to say, a monarch- 
ist almost all his life. Paris, on that 
day, learned a lesson of self-control 
which has been very useful tn it in 
many troublous times later on. 

No American reader wIkj has not 
lived in Europe can form any adequate 
idea of the pressure l)rought to bear 
upon Reitnblieaus din'ing this year (jf 
1877 in France. The whole weight of 
prejudice, of the prestige of centuries 
of wealtii, of established religion, was 
brought to bear upon liberals ; ami the 



84S 



EUROPE IN STORM AND CALM. 



hnnleii was so grievous thnt ;it times 
they could scarcely support it. Distin- 
guished orators and publicists were 
compelled to speak in little and ill- 
ventilatrd halls, to which none hut their 
constituents were admitted, and these 
by ticket, in the old, stingy fashion in 
force under the Empire. Public meet- 
ings in their Ijroadest sense were un- 
known. Louis Blanc refused me a 
ticket to one of his addresses before 
his constituents, saying, that if I were 
recognized as a non-voter the conse- 
quences for me and f(jr the controllers of 
the meeting would be most uniileasant. 

When this final conservative effort was 
at an end, and tlie weights were taken 
from tlie Republic's breast, there was 
rapid progress for several yeais ; yet tlie 
almost majestic programmes of men like 
Gambetta were thwarted and even set 
aside beca,nse of the jealousies of inferior 
men, the intrigues of churchmen and of 
specialists. Ganilietta had a fine political 
careiM' as President of the Chamber, in 
which ollicial |)osition he was very power- 
ful; but his enemies, a ftcrhaving crowded 
him out of the i)resideutial chair and 
forced him into the ministry, which lir 
did not wish to enter, nu'i'ely that they 
might have the pleasure of compelliug 
him lo leave it afterw"ards, made his 
latter (lays unh.'iii[)y. His deatii, wliieh 
was caused by a |>istol wound in one of 
his hands at a time when his system was 
greatly enfeebled, W(juld have been a 
catastroiilu? for the Re|)ubli(^ had lie not 
left behind him capable men who could 
carry out the brilliant programme he 
had skett'hed. He left behind him not 
only this noble |)lan, but an nntai'iiished 
re|)Utation as an administrator in troub- 
lous times. Looking at his picture the 
night after his strong and earnest life 
ended with the year 188-', I was jiro- 
foundly impressed with the abundant 



vigor with which his face was filled. It 
was not a handsome face, nor yet an 
ai'tistic or I'dined one ; but a stranger 
wlio had heai'd little of Gambetta, and 
who had never seen him, would say, in 
contemiilating it, '• This is the face of a 
man of vast [lower, who would overcome 
oltstaeles unsnrmountable by other men, 
who would not be cast down in adversity ; 
a man fertile^ in surjirises, abounding in 
unexpecting triumiihs, capable of turning 
imminent danger into immediate victory." 
He will long be remembered as the |ias- 
sionately eloquent lawyer, thedefender of 
Bandin, tlie mighty tribune, the brilliant 
member of the opposition to the Second 
Em|)ire, the ex-dictator, the fiery soul 
which could not brook the idea of tame 
submission even when all hope was lost, 
the noble parliamentarian, the sincere 
Republican, the patriot, the adroit and 
far-seeing Republican. He was the 
fountain from which sprang the Re- 
publican energy. There were moments 
when the entire Republican organization 
of the country seemed eiiitomized in him. 
He was leader, teacher, master, father, 
meutor. 

It was commonly said in (iciuiany, 
after (ianilietta and Skobeleff had l)oth 
disapiieared from tlu; scene of European 
action, that Prussia had been sjiared by 
providential intervention in her behalf a 
tremendous campaign against her. It is 
ci'rtain that General Skobeleff — whose 
brilliant young life was cut short by a 
swift stroke of fate in Moscow, where he 
was sojourning in one of the intervals of 
his busy military career — and Gambetta 
were both much iu favor of a war against 
Germany ; a war the date for which was 
by no means decided on ; a war which could 
not be indefinitely postponed. Taken 
between the millstones of Russia and 
of France, some of the German peoples 
might possibly have been crushed. 



EUROPE IN STURM AXI) r.iljM. 



841) 



After the dciitli of the Prince Imi)eri:il. 
as the English people still continue to 
call the son of Napoleon III., the liopes 
of the Im\)erialist party in France fell to 
the ground. The young prince hail had a 
good military training, and was a gallant 
soldier ; but his skill and zeal availed 
him nothing against the arrows of a few 
naked South Africans, and he was brought 
home to lie in the litth' chapel of St. 
^Mary's at Chiselhnrst, to which the 
Empress makes melancholy pilgrimages, 
often mournfully alludnig to it as the 
shrine which holds the wreck of all her 
earthly grandeur and her hopes. The 
funeral of this young |irinco at Chisel- 
hurst was a very remarkable affair. It 
brought out the whole strength of the 
1-Jiglish aristocracy, which ado|)ted tile 
(jccasion as a kind of manifestation, even 
the ( Jueen coming to pay her last respects 
tothe son of Napoleon III. It was observ- 
able, however, that there were but few 
French jicople present, and scarcely any 
who represented tiie highest genius oi- 
intelligeuce of France. 

The Republic goes steadily on its way 
rejoicing, now and then in fear and 
trembling, but never retreating, and its 
niHueuce in Euro[)e is wider than is 
imagined by even the most enthusiastic 
French Republican. Threatened men, it 
is said, live long : and the downfall of 
the Republic has been predicted so often 
l)y England, Germany, even Italy, by 
Austria, by S[nxin, and In' other i>owers 
too numerous to mention, that its longev- 
ity is now believed in. It had but one 
victory to accomplish, — the victory over 
itself, over its follies and licenses, which 
had been so conspicuous in the past ; 
and when the huge pageant, greater than 
any ever before seen in Paris, j)Oured 
through the Chami)s Elys(5os the other 
day, behind a simple hearse, in which the 
body of the master poet of his time was 
carried to the Pantheon, it was noticc- 



ablr ihat .lacoliinism and anarchy were 
scarcely rei)rewente(l at all in the throng ; 
and even Jacobins and anarchists who 
had llie audacity to parade were com- 
pidled before they took part in the 
procession to lay aside their flags and 
emblems. On the day of Victor Hugo's 
burial listening Europe sciMucd to lu'tir 
a voice from the Fautlieon pleaching, as 




PRESIDENT CiUfiVY. 

the poi't had preached all his life long, 
|)eace and good-will, fraternity of peoples, 
unity of action and of sentiment, the 
abolition of sui)erstitions and formular- 
isiiis, diffusion of education and of light, 
pardon, reconciliation, and hopeful 
struggle towards the highest ideal. Eu- 
rope listened ; but will she take the 
words to heart? Will she not alternate 
from storm to calm, from calm to storm, 
through the latter years of this century, 
as she has through its first and middle 
periods, putting away from her the noble 
epoch of continuous peace and harmony 
which the veneralile poet so boldly [)ro- 
claimed? 



v^H 



0*30 



Deacidified usrng the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizrng agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Dale: (ijjjy 2002 

PreservationTechnologies 

A WORLD LEADER IN PAPER PRESERVATION 

1 1 1 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Townstiip, PA 16066 
(724) 7?9-21II 



■i!'t;i]'_i'!-i';'';;'-^ 



G^^t 







